Suddenly, Sheetala’s mother-in-law entered. Suresh had sent Sheetala’s mother and brothers back home, so there was peace in the house. The mother-in-law had heard Sheetala talking about her son. She said heatedly, ‘There’s nothing to hide from you. She looks like a rose but her nature contains only thorns. She’s only worried about her looks and never cared for Vimal. He loved her to bits but she never even talked to him properly. There’s no trace of love in her heart for him. So he had to leave the country.’
Sheetala was peeved. ‘Is he the only man who has left the country to earn money? It’s a man’s job to travel abroad for livelihood. ‘In Europe, couples stay together only for material benefits. If sister had been born in Europe she would have been laden with jewels and diamonds. Sheetala, from now on you should pray to God to be born in Europe in your next life if He endows you with beauty.’
Sheetala said in a grief-stricken voice, ‘The women who are fortunate enough are laden with gold even here. Not everyone is as unfortunate as I am.’
Suresh felt the glow on Sheetala’s face became dim. Even in the absence of her husband she was hankering after ornaments. He said, ‘Fine, I will get some made for you.’
He meant to insult her, but Sheetala was overcome with happiness. Tears sprang to her eyes and her voice choked. She could visualize Mangala’s heavy ornaments in her heart. She looked at Suresh, her eyes brimming with gratitude. She did not utter a word but it was as though every part of her body was saying ‘I’m yours!’6
Sheetala’s happiness knew no bounds when she wore Mangala’s ornaments. She was more joyful than a cuckoo perched on the branch of a mango tree, a fish swimming in cool and calm waters and a deer prancing about in an open green forest. She was totally swept off her feet. She stood in front of the mirror, adoring herself. She combed her hair and put kohl in her eyes. The fog dispelled and clear moonlight bathed the earth. She stopped doing housework altogether. She was filled with an absurd sense of vanity.
Adornment ignites the dormant desire for sensual pleasure. When Sheetala decked herself up from hair to toe, she longed for a lover who would appreciate her beauty. She stood at the threshold of her house. The village women showered praises on her but that was not enough for Sheetala. And she’d never thought very highly of the men of the village. So she called Suresh. Earlier, he would come every day, but now he rarely visited despite Sheetala’s earnest entreaties.
It was late in the night. There was darkness all around. People had retired, but Sheetala was awake. She had got jasmine flowers from Suresh’s garden and was making a garland—not for herself but for Suresh. Love was the only way she could pay Suresh back.
Suddenly, she heard dogs barking outside, and the next moment Vimal entered the house. He had a suitcase in one hand and a knapsack in another. His body looked frail, his clothes were dirty and there was several days’ stubble on his chin. He was so pale-faced that he looked like a convict out of prison. He saw the light in Sheetala’s room and walked towards it. The mynah fluttered in its cage. Sheetala was astonished to see a stranger before her. With anxiety in her voice she was just about to ask who he was when she recognized him. She quickly hid the flowers under a piece of cloth. She stood up, then lowered her head and asked, ‘Now you’ve remembered us?’
Vimal did not answer her. He was shocked to see both Sheetala and the condition of the house. It was as if he had reached a different world altogether. She was not the half-blossomed bud that had shrivelled in misfortune. She was a fully blossomed flower—well watered and dancing with the wind blowing under her. Vimal had been enchanted by her beauty earlier, but this was a burning flame that set your heart on fire and hurt your eyes. These ornaments, the clothes, the embellishments! Feeling dizzy, he sat on the floor. He was embarrassed about being in the presence of this beautiful sunflower. Sheetala stood transfixed. She did not run to get water for her husband, she did not wash his feet nor did she fan him. It was as if she had lost her senses. All her castles in the air came tumbling down. She felt extreme repulsion for this dirty, half-clad man. He was not Vimal, the lord of the house. He had become a labourer. Rough and hard work affects the body and the whole personality, even the face. A labourer cannot hide himself behind good clothes.
Vimal’s mother sensed something, and walked into Sheetala’s room to find out what was happening. When she saw Vimal she hugged him tightly, overcome by motherly affection. Vimal kept his head on his mother’s feet. Warm tears were oozing out of his eyes. His mother was so delighted to see her son after such a long time that she could not speak a word.
Vimal said, ‘Mother!’ His tone betrayed his question.
His mother understood his misgivings and said, ‘No, son, this isn’t what you’re thinking.’
‘But what’s all this?’
‘What to do, her nature’s like this.’
‘Why was Suresh looking for me?’
‘He was trying to find you. If it wasn’t for his generosity, you wouldn’t have found us alive.’
‘That would’ve been better.’
Sheetala said sarcastically, ‘You had made sure that we were all dead. You did not leave us in comfort here.’
Vimal retorted, ‘But now I can see that you’re in great comfort.’
‘You aren’t the arbiter of everyone’s destiny.’
Vimal stood up shaking with anger. ‘Mother, take me away from here. I do not want to see this monster. I feel like killing her. The rigour with which I worked for three years for this loose woman would have fetched me God but her love
