He left Sheetala’s room and lay down in his mother’s room. His mother quickly washed his face, hands and feet. She lit the stove and started frying pancakes for him. While cooking she told him about all her woes and what they went through in his absence. Now Vimal held no animosity against Suresh. But all that had transpired took a toll on his health and he fell ill. The long-distance travel, years of hard labour and now this stress finally culminated in a high fever. He could not bear it any more.
The night passed but he remained unconscious. His mother sat by his side fanning him and crying her heart out. The next day too passed without any improvement in his condition. Sheetala didn’t come to see him even for a minute. It’s all the same for me—whether he’s here or abroad. He has not spent a single penny on me. He left the house making such a song and dance. But what has he brought?
Suresh got the news in the evening and came running to meet Vimal. He was entering the house after two months. Vimal opened his eyes and recognized him. Tears started flowing from his eyes. Suresh was all love and affection for Vimal, who hated himself for doubting him.
The moment Sheetala heard about the arrival of Suresh, she stood before the mirror. She tousled her hair as though she was in great distress and entered Vimal’s room. Vimal was lying half-conscious but as soon as Sheetala came in he opened his eyes. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes and said, ‘Oh, you’ve come now? Come after three days. You can meet Kunwer Sahib again then.’
Sheetala went back to her room. Suresh was terribly embarrassed. He thought, She is blessed with beauty but she is so venomous! Instead of a sympathetic heart what she has is only lust for embellishments!
Vimal’s condition worsened. Suresh brought in the doctor but the messenger of death did not hear any plea. His heart is made of stone. Nothing can soften it. Even if someone pulls out his heart or cries his heart out, his heart does not melt. He takes pleasure in destroying happy homes and ruining well-grown harvests. His cruelty is sadistic in nature. And it takes a different form every time. Sometimes it comes as lightning and sometimes in the shape of a garland; sometimes it appears as a lion and sometimes as a jackal. Sometimes it takes the form of fire and sometimes it comes in the garb of water.
On the third night Vimal’s stress and heartache came to an end. A thief never steals during the day. The Angel of Death generally comes stealthily during the night and robs people of their lives. Even stars dimmed their light in sadness. The trees were silent, with bowed heads, as if paying tribute to the departed soul. The night is the veneer of mourning. The night is the playground of death. At that time only the sound of wailing emanated from Vimal’s house—the sound cherished by the lord of death.
Sheetala was startled by the noise and walked towards Vimal’s bed with trepidation. She looked at the body once and stepped back, horrified. She felt as if Vimal was staring back at her with hatred in his eyes. The flickering light of the lamp sent a shiver down her spine. She was so terrified that she could not stay there even for a second. She was coming out of the room when she met Suresh. ‘I’m scared of this place,’ she said in an agitated voice. She started crying and was going to fall at his feet when he stepped back.7
When a traveller realizes that he has lost his way he tries his best to get back to the right path. He gets annoyed with himself for being careless. Suresh also wanted to make peace with Mangala. He started remembering all the things that Mangala did to keep him happy. He finally started appreciating Mangala’s inner beauty. She had been the epitome of love, sacrifice and forgiveness. He became restless whenever he remembered her unconditional love for him. I was so unjust to her! I didn’t appreciate her great worth! I just stood by silently and allowed my Goddess Laxmi to leave this house! He was aware of the last conversation that took place between Mangala and Sheetala. But he was not ready to believe it. Mangala was a woman of calm disposition. She couldn’t be so insolent. She would forgive and not want revenge. His heart said that she was alive and safe. He wrote many letters to her parents but received only taunts and sarcasm in answer. At last he wrote:
I’m coming to fetch the jewel of my life myself. I’ll either bring her back with me or else I’ll never show my face to anyone.
The answer to that letter was:
Fine, you can come. We’ll see what needs to be done.
Suresh found a ray of hope in those words. He left his house the same day, and did not take anybody along with him.
He did not receive a warm welcome in his father-in-law’s house. Nobody smiled at him. His father-in-law even gave him a long lecture on the duties of an ideal husband.
After dinner, when he was retiring for the night, his younger sister-in-law came to see him. Smilingly, she said, ‘Jijaji, if a beautiful woman insults her ugly husband and abandons him, what will you call her?’
‘Wicked!’ said Suresh seriously.
‘And a man who leaves his ugly wife?’
‘A brute!’
‘And if he is a learned man?’
‘A monster.’
‘Then I should move away quickly. I’m so scared of you.’
‘Even the apology of monsters is accepted.’
‘The condition is that it should be heartfelt and true.’
‘That can be judged only by the almighty.’
‘If it is true you’ll be rewarded. You’ll certainly return with Didi.’
Suresh was on tenterhooks. He implored, ‘Prabha, for God’s sake, have mercy on me. I’m in despair. Not a day has passed in the past year when
