"Profit and Loss" By Rabindranath Tagore

Profit and Loss By Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore was a Bengali polymath who reshaped Bengali literature and music, as well as Indian art with Contextual Modernism in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Author of the "profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful" poetry of Gitanjali, he became in 1913 the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature.

Tagore's stories are known for their lyrical prose, their insightful exploration of human emotions, and their celebration of the beauty of nature.

Profit and Loss

When a daughter was born, after five sons, her parents dotingly named her Nirupama. Such a high-flown name had never been heard in the family before. Usually names of gods and goddesses were used – Ganesh, Kartik, Parvati and so on.

The question of Nirupama’s marriage now arose. Her father Ramsundar Mitra searched and searched without finding a groom he really liked; but in the end he procured the only son of a grand Raybahadur. The ancestral wealth of this Raybahadur had diminished considerably, but the family was certainly noble. They asked for a dowry of 10,000 rupees, and many additional gifts. Ramsundar agreed without a thought – such a groom should not be allowed to slip through one’s fingers. But no way could he raise all the money. Even after pawning, selling, and using every method he could, he still owed 6,000 or 7,000 rupees; and the day of the wedding was drawing near.

The wedding-day came. Someone had agreed to lend the rest of the money at an extortionate rate of interest, but he failed to turn up on the day. A furious scene broke out in the marriage-room. Ramsundar fell on his knees before the Raybahadur, implored him not to bring bad luck by breaking off the ceremony, insisted he would pay him in full. ‘If you can’t hand the money to me, now,’ replied the Raybahadur, ‘the bridegroom will not be brought here.’

The women of the house wept and wailed at this disastrous upset. The root cause of it sat mutely in her silk wedding-dress and ornaments, her forehead decorated with sandal-paste. It cannot be said that she felt much love or respect for her prospective husband’s family.

Suddenly the impasse was resolved. The groom rebelled against his father, saying firmly, ‘This haggling and bartering means nothing to me. I came here to marry and marry I shall.’

‘You see, sir, how young men behave these days,’ said his father to everyone he turned to.

‘It’s because they have no training in morality or the Shastras,’ said some of the oldest there. The Raybahadur sat despondent at seeing the poisonous fruits of modern education in his own son. The marriage was completed in a gloomy, joyless sort of way.

As Nirupama left for her in-law’s house her father clasped her to his breast and could not hold back his tears. ‘Won’t they let me come and visit you, father?’ she asked. ‘Why shouldn’t they, my love?’ said Ramsundar. ‘I’ll come and fetch you.’

Ramsundar often went to see his daughter, but he had no honour in his son-in-law’s house. Even the servants looked down on him. Sometimes he saw his daughter for five minutes in a separate outer room of the house; sometimes he was not allowed to see her at all. To be disgraced so in a kinsman’s house was unbearable. He decided that somehow or other the money would have to be paid, but the burden of debt on his shoulders was already hard to control. Expenses dragged at him terribly; he had to resort to all sorts of petty subterfuges to avoid running into his creditors.

Meanwhile his daughter was treated spitefully at every turn. She shut herself into her room and wept – a daily penance for the insults heaped on her family. Her mother-in-law’s assaults were especially vicious. If anyone said, ‘How pretty the girl is – it’s a pleasure to look at her,’ she would burst out, ‘Pretty indeed! Pretty as the family she came from!’

Even her food and clothing were neglected. If a kind neighbour expressed concern, her mother-in-law would say, ‘She has more than enough,’ – implying that if the girl’s father had paid full price, she would have received full care. Everyone treated her as if she had no rights in the household and had entered it by deceit.

Naturally, news of the contempt and shame his daughter was suffering reached Ramsundar. He decided to sell his house. He did not, however, tell his sons that he was making them houseless: he intended to rent the house back after selling it. By this ploy, his sons would not know the true situation till after his death. But his sons found out. They came and protested vigorously. The three elder boys, particularly, were married and probably had children: their objections were so forceful that the sale was stopped. Ramsundar then started to raise money by taking out small loans from various quarters at high interest – so much so, that he could no longer meet household expenses.

Nirupama understood everything from her father’s expression. The old man’s grey hair, pallid face and permanently cowering manner all indicated poverty and worry. When a father lets down his own daughter, he cannot disguise the guilt he feels. Whenever Ramsundar managed to get permission to speak to his daughter for a few moments, it was clear at once even from his smile how heart-broken he was.

She longed to return to her father’s house for a few days to console him. To see his sad face made it awful to be away. One day she said to Ramsundar, ‘Father, take me home for a while.’

Very well,’ he replied – but he had no power to do so, the natural claims that a father has to his daughter had been pawned in place of a dowry. Even a glimpse of his daughter had to be begged for meekly, and if on any occasion it was not granted, he was not in a position to ask a second time. But if his daughter herself wished to come home, how could he not bring her?

It is better not to tell the story of the indignity, shame and hurt that Ramsundar had to endure to raise the 3,000 rupees that he needed for an approach to his daughter’s father-in-law. Wrapping the banknotes in a handkerchief tied into a corner of his chadar, he went to see him. He began breezily with local news, describing at length a daring theft in Harekrishna’s house. Comparing the abilities and characters of Nabinmadhab and Radhamadhab, he praised Radhamadhab and criticized Nabinmadhab. He gave a hair-raising account of a new illness in town. Finally, putting down the hookah, he said as if in passing, ‘Yes, yes, brother, there’s still some money owing, I know. Every day I remember, and mean to come along with some of it, but then it slips my mind. I’m getting old, my friend.’ At the end of this long preamble, he casually produced the three notes, which were really like three of his ribs. The Raybahadur burst into coarse laughter at the sight of them. ‘Those are no use to me,’ he said, making it plain by using a current proverb that he did not want to make his hands stink for no reason.

After that, to ask to bring Nirupama home seemed out of the question, though Ramsundar wondered what good he was doing to himself by observing polite forms. After sitting in heart-stricken silence for a long time, he did at last softly raise the matter. ‘Not now,’ said the Raybahadur, giving no reason; then he left, to go about his work.

Unable to face his daughter, hands trembling, Ramsundar tied the three banknotes back into the end of his chadar and set off home. He resolved never to return to the Raybahadur’s house until he had paid the money in full; only then could he lay claim to Nirupama confidently. Many months passed. Nirupama sent messenger after messenger, but her father never appeared. In the end she took offence and stopped sending. This grieved Ramsundar sorely, but he still would not go to her. The month of Āśvin came. ‘This year I shall bring Nirupama home for the pūjā or else!’ he said to himself, making a fierce vow.

On the fifth or sixth day of the pūjā-fortnight, Ramsundar once again tied a few notes into the end of his chadar and got ready to go out. A five-year-old grandson came and said, ‘Grandpa, are you going to buy a cart for me?’ For weeks he had set his heart on a pushcart to ride in, but there had been no way of meeting his wish. Then a six-year-old granddaughter came and said tearfully that she had no nice dress to wear for the pūjā. Ramsundar knew that well and had brooded over it for a long time as he smoked. He had sighed to think of the women of his household attending the pūjā celebrations at the Raybahadur’s house like paupers receiving charity, wearing whatever miserable ornaments they had; but his thoughts had no result other than making the old man’s lines on his forehead even deeper.

With the cries of his poverty-stricken household ringing in his ears, Ramsundar arrived at the Raybahadur’s house. Today there was no hesitation in his manner, no trace of the nervous glances with which he had formerly approached the gatekeeper and servants: it was as if he was entering his own house. He was told that the Raybahadur was out – he would have to wait a while. But he could not hold back his longing to meet his daughter. Tears of joy rolled down his cheeks when he saw her.

Father and daughter wept together; neither of them could speak for some moments. Then Ramsundar said, ‘This time I shall take you, my dear. Nothing can stop me now.’

Suddenly Ramsundar’s eldest son Haramohan burst into the room with his two small sons. ‘Father,’ he cried, ‘have you really decided to turn us out on the streets?’

Ramsundar flared up. ‘Should I condemn myself to hell for your sakes? Won’t you let me do what is right?’ He had sold his house: he had gone to great lengths to conceal the sale from his sons, but to his anger and dismay it appeared that they had found out all the same. His grandson clasped him round his knees and looked up, saying, ‘Grandpa, haven’t you bought me that cart?’ When he got no answer from the now crestfallen Ramsundar, the little boy went up to Nirupama and said, ‘Auntie, will you buy me a cart?’

Nirupama had no difficulty in understanding the whole situation. ‘Father,’ she said, ‘if you give a single paisa more to my father-in-law, I swear solemnly you will never see me again.’

‘What are you saying, child?’ said Ramsundar. ‘If I don’t pay the money, the shame will be forever on my head – and it will be your shame too.’

‘The shame will be greater if you pay the money,’ said Nirupama. ‘Do you think I have no honour? Do you think I am just a moneybag, the more money in it the higher my value? No, Father, don’t shame me by paying this money. My husband doesn’t want it anyway.’

‘But then they won’t let you come and see me,’ said Ramsundar.

‘That can’t be helped,’ said Nirupama. ‘Please don’t try to fetch me anymore.’

Ramsundar tremblingly pulled his chadar – with the money tied into it – back round his shoulders, and left the house like a thief again, avoiding everyone’s stare.

It did not, however, remain a secret that Ramsundar had come with the money and that his daughter had forbidden him to hand it over. An inquisitive servant, a listener at keyholes, passed the information on to Nirupama’s mother-in-law, whose malice towards her daughter-in-law now went beyond all limits. The household became a bed of nails for her. Her husband had gone off a few days after their wedding to be Deputy Magistrate in another part of the country. Claiming that Nirupama would be corrupted by contact with her relatives, her in-laws now completely forbade her from seeing them.

She now fell seriously ill. But this was not wholly her mother-in-law’s fault. She herself had neglected her health dreadfully. On chilly autumn nights she lay with her head near the open door, and she wore no extra clothes during the winter. She ate irregularly. The servants would sometimes forget to bring her any food: she would not then say anything to remind them. She was forming a fixed belief that she was herself a servant in the household, dependent on the favours of her master and mistress. But her mother-in-law could not stand even this attitude. If Nirupama showed lack of interest in food, she would say, ‘What a princess she is! A poor household’s fare is not to her liking!’ Or else she would say, ‘Look at her. What a beauty! She’s more and more like a piece of burnt wood.’

When her illness got worse, her mother-in-law said, ‘It’s all put on.’ Finally, one day Nirupama said humbly, ‘Let me see my father and brothers just once, Mother.’

‘Nothing but a trick to get to her father’s house,’ said her mother-in-law.

It may seem unbelievable, but the evening when Nirupama’s breath began to fail was when the doctor was first called, and it was the last visit that he made too.

The eldest daughter-in-law in the household had died, and the funeral rites were performed with appropriate pomp. The Raychaudhuris were renowned in the district for the lavishness with which they performed the immersion of the deity at the end of Durgā-pūjā, but the Raybahadur’s family became famous for the way Nirupama was cremated: such a huge sandalwood pyre had never been seen. Only they could have managed such elaborate rites, and it was rumoured that they got rather into debt as a result.

Everyone gave Ramsundar long descriptions of the magnificence of his daughter’s death when they came to condole with him. Meanwhile a letter from the Deputy Magistrate arrived: ‘I have made all necessary arrangements here, so please send my wife to me quickly.’ The Raybahadur’s wife replied, ‘Dear son, we have secured another girl for you, so please take leave soon and come home.’

This time the dowry was 20,000 rupees, cash down.

Questions and answers

1. Why was Nirupama’s name unusual?

Ans: Names in Nirupama’s family were usually named after gods and goddesses. Thus Nirupama’s name was unusual as it was not after some god or goddesses’ name.

2. How was the impasse at the wedding resolved?

Ans: Nirupama’s would be in-laws had demanded a dowry of ₹ 10000 and had pressurised her parents to give it before marriage. Nirupama’s father somehow failed to collect the amount before marriage. The groom’s family declared that the groom would not be brought for wedding till the full amount is given to them. But, this impasse was resolved as the groom rebelled and told his parents that he would anyhow marry the girl and he had nothing to do with money.

3. How was Nirupama treated at her in-law’s house?

Ans: Nirupama was treated spitefully at her in-law’s house. Insults were heaped on her and her family. Her mother-in-law’s assaults were especially vicious. Even her food and clothing were neglected. Everyone treated her as if she had no rights in the household and had entered it by deceit. She spent her days crying. 

4. What did Ramsundar do to raise the money for the dowry?

Ans: Ramsundar had used every possible way by pawning or selling things to raise the amount for dowry even before his daughter’s marriage, but had failed. Even after marriage when his sons objected to sell their house, he started raising money by taking small loans from various quarters at high interest.

5. Why did Nirupama ask her father not to give any more money to her in-laws?

Ans: Nirupama got to know that her father had sold his house to raise money for her and this had upset her brothers. She was moved by the pitiable situation of her father. Thus she told her father not to give any more money to her in-laws. She even told him that she was not a money-bag and thus money would not increase her value. 

6. What was the cause of Nirupama’s death?

Ans: Nirupama’s household was a bed of nails for her. Her husband was posted in some other city. As her father had not paid the said dowry she was not allowed to meet her parents. She was treated like a servant. She herself had also started neglecting her health. She was made to starve for food by her in-laws. Thus gradually she died of hunger. 

7. What is the irony in Nirupama’s lavish cremation by her in-laws?

Ans: Nirupama’s in-laws starved her to death. They made her life a hell for a dowry of ₹ 10000, which remained unpaid by her father. But, when she died, the funeral rites were performed with appropriate pomp suitable to the Raybahadurs. They prepared a huge sandalwood pyre for her cremation which was never seen before and became famous for it. They did not even care to inform Nirupama’s husband about her death and arranged for his second marriage with a dowry of ₹ 20000.

• Write short notes:

1. Nirupama

Nirupama’s story, although written in 1890s, still has its relevance. We still find several Nirupamas in society harassed or even brutally killed for dowry almost every day. 

Nirupama’s would be in-laws had demanded a dowry of ₹ 10000 and had pressurised her parents to give it before marriage. Her father somehow failed to collect the amount before marriage. The groom’s family declared that the groom would not be brought for wedding till the full amount is given to them. But, this impasse was resolved as the groom rebelled and told his parents that he would anyhow marry the girl and he had nothing to do with money.Nirupama was treated spitefully at her in-law’s house. Insults were heaped on her and her family. Her mother-in-law’s assaults were especially vicious. Even her food and clothing were neglected. Everyone treated her as if she had no rights in the household and had entered it by deceit. She spent her days crying. 

Nirupama’s father, Ramsundar had used every possible way by pawning or selling things to raise the amount for dowry even before his daughter’s marriage, but had failed. Even after marriage when his sons objected to sell their house, he started raising money by taking small loans from various quarters at high interest.

Nirupama got to know that her father had sold his house to raise money for her and this had upset her brothers. She was moved by the pitiable situation of her father. Thus she told her father not to give any more money to her in-laws. She even told him that she was not a money-bag and thus money would not increase her value. 

Nirupama’s in-laws starved her to death. They made her life a hell for a dowry of ₹ 10000, which remained unpaid by her father. But, when she died, the funeral rites were performed with appropriate pomp suitable to the Raybahadurs. They prepared a huge sandalwood pyre for her cremation which was never seen before and became famous for it. They did not even care to inform Nirupama’s husband about her death and arranged for his second marriage with a dowry of ₹ 20000.

2. Significance of the title - Profit and Loss

The theme of profit and loss resonates throughout the narrative. Each and every incident in the story results into someone’s profit and others’ loss. Nirupama’s father tries to barter his daughter’s happiness, by selling off his house, thus making his sons homeless. However, this supposedly profitable trade backfires, and he loses his sons and daughter. His sons feel that they were deprived of their right and the daughter feels sad for her father.On the other hand, Raibahadur’s only aim in life seems to be making a profit out of his son’s marriage by means of a hefty dowry. However, as the groom refuses to bow down to his pressure tactics, he loses social standing and honor, being humiliated by his son’s stubborn morality. Later, he spends a lot on Nirupama’s funeral rites, even incurring a loan for the same. However, it is really doubtful whether he would be able to convince his son to remarry and sacrifice another lamb on the altar.

Even Nirupama, who was her father’s darling, dreams of gaining an ideal husband, but ends up losing her father and brothers as well, before dying a painful death.In short, every instance resonates the conversion of profit into loss, by the heedless actions of the characters, thus proving the aptness of title again and again. 

And, quite fittingly the story continues through centuries, as our society continues to strive for inanimate wealth, while blindly sacrificing the honor and happiness of a bride.

Complete the statements by choosing the correct option from those given under them:

1. Nirupama was the _________ child of her parents.

a) seventh

b) first

c) fifth

d) sixth

2. On the wedding day, the groom ___________.  

a) ran away

b) asked for the dowry

c) rebelled against his parents

d) died

3. Ramsundar_____________.

a) was welcome at his son-in-laws’ house 

b) was driven away from his son-in-law’s house

c) lived at his son-in-laws house

d) had no honour at his son-in-laws’ house

4. To save his daughter from contempt and shame, Ramsundar decided to ___________.

a) sell his house

b) bring her back

c) sell the jewellery

d) forget her

5. Nirupama ____________.

a) was happy at her in-laws’ house

b) wished to return from her in-laws’ house

c) blamed her father for her fate

d) was all set to teach her in-laws a lesson

6. Nirupama’s father came to fetch her from her in-laws’ house for the second time on the occasion of __________.

a) puja celebrations 

b) her birthday celebrations

c) her wedding anniversary

d) her mother’s death

7. Nirupama’s husband_______.

a) asked for more dowry than his father

b) lowered the amount of dowry  

c) did not utter a single word with regard to the dowry

d) did not wish to take any dowry

8. Nirupama’s husband had gone to some other city to be _________.

a) Deputy Registrar

b) Deputy Officer

c) Deputy Magistrate

d) Deputy Commissioner

9. The Raybahadur demanded _______ rupees as a dowry for his son’s second marriage.

a) 15000    

b) 20000

c) 25000

d) 30000