Rabindranath Tagore

The Home and the World Rabindranath Tagore

MOTHER, today there comes back to mind the vermilion mark [1] at the parting of yourhair, the __sari__ [2] which you used to wear, with its wide red border, and those wonderfuleyes of yours, full of depth and peace. They came at the start of my life's journey, like thefirst streak of dawn, giving me golden provision to carry me on my way. The sky which gives light is blue, and my mother's face was dark, but she had the radianceof holiness, and her beauty would put to shame all the vanity of the beautiful. Everyone says that I resemble my mother. In my childhood I used to resent this. It made meangry with my mirror. I thought that it was God's unfairness which was wrapped round mylimbs-that my dark features were not my due, but had come to me by somemisunderstanding. All that remained for me to ask of my God in reparation was, that Imight grow up to be a model of what woman should be, as one reads it in some epic poem. When the proposal came for my marriage, an astrologer was sent, who consulted my palmand said, "This girl has good signs. She will become an ideal wife."And all the women who heard it said: "No wonder, for she resembles her mother."I was married into a Rajah's house. When I was a child, I was quite familiar with thedescription of the Prince of the fairy story. But my husband's face was not of a kind thatone's imagination would place in fairyland. It was dark, even as mine was. The feeling ofshrinking, which I had about my own lack of physical beauty, was lifted a little; at the sametime a touch of regret was left lingering in my heart.