The Broken Nest
Rabindranath Tagore
1861–1941
a penguin S ince 1985
Rabindranath Tagore
The Broken Nest
Translated by Arunava Sinha
penguin archive
PENGUIN BOOKS
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa
Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
Penguin Random House UK , One Embassy Gardens, 8 Viaduct Gardens, London SW 11 7BW
penguin.co.uk
The translation of ‘Dead or Alive’ first published in The Penguin Book of Bengali Short Stories 2024
The translation of ‘Broken Nest’ first published in this edition in Penguin Classics 2025 001
Translation copyright © Arunava Sinha, 2024, 2025
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems. In accordance with Article 4(3) of the DSM Directive 2019/790, Penguin Random House expressly reserves this work from the text and data mining exception.
Set in 11.2/13.75pt Dante MT Std
Typeset by Jouve (UK ), Milton Keynes
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.
The authorized representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D 02 YH 68
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN : 978– 0– 241– 75212– 8
Penguin Random House is committed to a sustainable future for our business, our readers and our planet. This book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.
The Broken Nest
One
Bhupati had no need to work. He had enough money, and, moreover, the land was too hot. But the stars at his birth had made him an industrious man. This was why he felt compelled to publish an English newspaper. Now he no longer had to grumble about time hanging heavy on his hands.
Since childhood, he had had a penchant for writing and making speeches in English. He would write letters to English newspapers even when there was no reason to; he never missed a chance to speak up at public gatherings even when he had nothing to say. Politicians wooing him for his wealth had heaped lavish praise upon him for his compositions, and this had given him a high opinion of his proficiency in the language.
Umapati, Bhupati’s brother- in- law and a lawyer – eventually abandoning his attempt to run his legal practice – told his sister’s husband, ‘Why don’t you publish an English newspaper, Bhupati? Considering your incredible . . .’ etcetera.
Bhupati was stirred. There was no glory in having one’s letters published in someone else’s newspaper; in his own, he would be able to wield his pen with complete freedom. Appointing his brother- in- law as his
assistant, Bhupati thus ascended the editor’s throne at a rather early age.
The passion for journalism and the passion for politics are both powerful in youth – and there were plenty of people to ensure that Bhupati became besotted.
While he remained thus engrossed with his newspaper, his child bride Charulata matured into young womanhood. The newspaper editor missed this important news entirely. His attention was concentrated on the unrestrained expansion of the government’s frontier policy.
Living as she did in a wealthy household, Charulata had no chores to do. The only task of her long, undemanding days and nights was to blossom fruitlessly, rather like the flower that will never ripen. In such circumstances, wives go to great excesses over their husbands if they can – with the game of married life shifting its boundaries from the defined and the conventional to the chaotic and the anarchic. Charulata did not have this opportunity. Piercing the armour of the newspaper to claim her husband proved to be a difficult task.
One day, after a female relative had chided him, drawing his attention to his young wife, Bhupati told himself in a moment of self-awareness, ‘That’s true, Charu needs a companion, the poor thing has nothing to occupy her all day.’
He told his brother-in-law Umapati, ‘Why don’t you send for your wife, Charu has no one of her age to talk to, she must be very lonely.’ Mandakini, his brotherin- law’s wife, was settled in his home; Mr Editor was
relieved having diagnosed the absence of female company as the cause of Charu’s misery.
Neither of them noticed that the period in which husband and wife rediscover each other in the exquisite first light of love – that gold-tinged dawn of conjugal life – had slipped silently into the past. Even before savouring the new, they had become old, familiar, and accustomed to each other.
Charulata had a natural propensity for reading and so her days did not prove unbearably heavy. She had made her own arrangements for books. Bhupati’s cousin – his paternal aunt’s son – was a third-year college student; Charulata turned to him for help with getting her books to read. In return for this service, she had to accede to many of Amal’s demands. She was frequently made to finance his meals at restaurants and the purchase of English literary works. Amal would have his friends over for meals sometimes; Charulata would make all the arrangements and thus pay for her tuition. Bhupati may have made no demands of Charulata but, in return for some meagre help with her reading, there was no end to cousin Amal’s requirements. Charulata feigned rage over them now and then, but it had become necessary to prove herself useful to someone and endure the happy oppression of affection.
‘The son-in-law of the owners of our college comes to Footnore classes in velvet slippers specially made for him, bouthan*,’ said Amal, ‘I simply cannot bear it any
* Traditional form of address for one’s brother’s (or cousin’s) wife.
more. I have to have a pair of velvet slippers, or else my standing will suffer.’
Charu: Indeed! As if I shall slave away to make a pair of slippers for you! Here’s some money – go buy yourself a pair.
‘Not a chance,’ said Amal.
Charu neither knew how to make slippers, nor did she want to confess as much to Amal. But no one besides Amal ever demanded anything of her, and she could not resist fulfilling the prayer of the one person in the world who sought something from her. Secretly – and meticulously – she began to learn the art of making velvet slippers while Amal was away in college. When Amal himself had completely forgotten his orders, Charu sent him an invitation to dinner.
As it was summer, a seat had been prepared on the terrace for Amal’s meal. The plate was covered with a brass lid, lest dust get into the food. Shedding his college garb, Amal washed and dressed before making an appearance. Sitting down, he removed the lid – to discover a newly made pair of wool slippers on the plate! Charulata laughed aloud.
The shoes stoked Amal’s expectations. Now he wanted a high- necked coat, next a silk handkerchief with floral patterns had to be made for him, after that an embroidered cover became essential for the oil-stained armchair in his sitting room.
Each time, Charulata refused, causing an argument, and each time, she tenderly surrendered to Amal’s whims. Sometimes Amal asked, ‘How far have you got,