One day Sitasaran felt twinges of pain in his tummy. He ignored it and sat down to eat the mangoes. The moment he reached a hundred, he threw up. Collapsed. He had relentless bouts of vomiting and diarrhoea. It was clearly cholera. A doctor was called in from the city but Babu Sahib passed away before he reached. Weeping and the beating of breasts followed. By evening the dead body was carried out of the house. When people returned from the funeral at midnight, the mistress too was found to be suffering from cholera. Once more there was a lot of scurrying around but by sunrise she too was gone. While they lived, husband and wife had not been separated even for a day. In death, too, they left the earth together at the same time. The husband at sunset, and his wife at sunrise.
But the tribulations had not ended. Leela was busy with all the arrangements for the rites, and nobody else bothered about cleaning up the house. On the third day, both the children went into the living room, crying for their grandparents. There was a slice of watermelon and a few mangoes kept on a ledge in the room. Flies were humming over them. Janki climbed on to a stool to reach them and then they sat down to eat them together. By evening both children were struck with cholera; before long their parents were left weeping. The house was enveloped in darkness. Where only three days ago there had been so much clamour, now a pall of gloom had descended; one could not even hear the sound of anyone crying. Who was there to cry? There were only two souls left. And they were too numb to weep.4
Leela’s failing health had made her almost lifeless by now. She didn’t have the strength to even get up and sit. She seemed lost all the time, taking no interest either in getting dressed or eating. She appeared to be detached from the home as well as the world outside it. If she sat down somewhere, she would remain sitting. Months went by before she changed her clothes or oiled her hair. The children had been the sole reason for her to live. With them gone, life and death seemed the same. Day and night she prayed to God to rid her of this existence. She had experienced both joy and sorrow; now she had no more desires. But has death ever responded to one’s call?
At first Sitasaran too wept a lot every now and then; he would even run away from the house. But as the days passed by, his grief for his children ebbed; it is perhaps the mother who feels the most pain at losing a child to death. Slowly he was able to collect himself. He began to laugh and joke with his friends like before. The ones closest to him would rally around his spirits even more. He was now the master of the house and free to do what he wanted. There was no one to stop him. He began gallivanting all over the place. If once his eyes had welled up with tears at the sight of Leela crying, now he would get irritated looking at her immersed in grief. Life was not meant for crying. God had given them children and it was He who had snatched them away. ‘Does that mean that we also give up living?’ Leela was shocked to hear this. How could a father utter such words? There seemed to be all kinds of people in this world!
It was the time of Holi. There was much singing and dancing in the men’s quarters. A lot of people had been invited for the celebration. Leela was flat on the floor, weeping. She was always reduced to tears when festivals came. If the children had been alive they would have put on new clothes and how they would have romped around! Without them, what festival could they celebrate, what fun could they have?
All at once Sitasaran came in and said, ‘Are you going to spend the entire time weeping? Why don’t you change your clothes, look more respectable? What have you done to yourself?’
Leela replied, ‘You go back to your raucous mehfil, what do you care about me.’
‘Are you the first to have lost children? Are you the only one to face such tribulations?’
‘This we all know. Everyone copes in her own way. How can we control what we feel?’
‘Don’t you have any duty towards me?’
Leela looked at her husband in bewilderment, clueless about what he meant. Then she averted her face and resumed crying.
‘I want to put an end to this gloom. If you don’t have any control over your heart, then neither do I. I can’t spend my whole life mourning.’
‘You go ahead with your fun and games, I’m not stopping you! Why do you stop me from crying?’
‘My house is not for weeping.’
‘Very well, I will not weep in your house.’5
Leela could see her husband slipping out of her hands. He had fallen prey to his lust and there was no one who could talk him out of it. He seemed to have lost his senses. She wondered what she could do. If she left, the house would
