Yes, I will have to forget my sorrow. Cry I will, for tears are written in my fate—so I will cry but through laughter. I will fight my destiny. I can do little else but cry for those who have gone but I will not let go of those who are present. Oh broken heart! Come, let me gather these pieces and make a grave out of you and surrender my grief to you. Oh tearful eyes, hide my tears behind a halo of laughter. Come, my ornaments, for long have I spurned you, forgive me for this offence. You have been my companion in my good times, on wonderful journeys, now stay with me in this crisis; don’t betray me. Leela sat up all night talking to herself, while in the men’s quarters it was a total carnival. Drunk out of his senses, Sitasaran would break into song or a fit of clapping. His friends seemed to be painted in the same hue. It seemed that nothing mattered to them but sheer debauchery.
The last mehfil fell silent. No more of their hoo-ha could be heard. Leela wondered whether the crowd had left or fallen asleep. All at once a hush fell over the house. She went and stood at the doorway and peeped into the drawing room. A flame seared through her veins. The friends had departed. No sign of the socialites either. Just a beauty lying on the couch with Sitasaran bent over her, whispering softly into her ear. What was in their minds was clear from their expressions. One’s eyes sparkled with interest; the other’s leered. Thus is an innocent robbed by maya as beauty incarnate. Leela’s possessions were being robbed right under her nose by a bewitching trickster. Leela was so infuriated that she wanted to grab the slut with both hands then and there, snub her so soundly that she would never forget it and throw her out of the house. Those wifely feelings which had lain dormant for so long reawakened and agitated her. But she curbed herself. Surging desires cannot be dammed all of a sudden. She retraced her steps to the house, calmed her mind and thought to herself—In form and beauty, in feminine wiles, I cannot match this evil one. She’s like a piece of the moon, every part of her sparkles, every pore of her is intoxicating. Her eyes are so full of thirst, indeed, not thirst but a volcano! Leela went right to a mirror. After many months she looked at herself. A sigh escaped her lips. Grief had completely ravaged her body. Next to the seductress she was like a juhi flower beside a rose!6
Sitasaran recovered from his hangover in the evening. When he opened his eyes he saw Leela before him, smiling. His eyes soaked in this rare image of Leela. He felt a thrill, as if he was meeting her after a long separation. How could he know how much she had wept while adorning herself, how many tears she had shed when she wove those flowers into her tresses. With reawakened desire he arose and embraced her. Smiling, he said, ‘Today you have adorned yourself with so many weapons that there seems to be nowhere to run.’
Leela laid a finger on her heart and said, ‘Stay here. You are always running away, now I will keep you captive. You’ve enjoyed the pleasures of exotic flowers, now look at the ones inside these dark rooms.’
Shamefaced, Sitasaran said, ‘Don’t call these dark rooms, Leela! They are overflowing like a divine lake of love.’
Just then, they heard a friend’s footsteps outside. As Sitasaran began to walk away, Leela caught his hand and said, ‘I won’t let you go.’
‘I’ll be right back.’
‘I’m afraid that you will leave me.’
When Sitasaran went outside, his good friend said, ‘Did you spend the entire day sleeping? You seem really pleased. We had decided to go there now, right? She is waiting for you.’
‘I’m ready to go but Leela won’t let me.’
‘You’re still the same moron. So you’re back in your wife’s clutches! Then what is it that got you so hot and bothered earlier?’
‘Leela had shut me out of the house, so I went here and there seeking refuge. Now she has reopened the gates and is standing at the entrance, calling out to me.’
‘Oh come on, how will you find the same pleasure here? No matter how much you adorn the home, can you turn it into a garden?’
‘Brother, the home cannot become a garden but it can become heaven. Now I alone know how ashamed I am of my pettiness. She suffered so much grief losing our children that it broke her body and diminished her beauty, and yet she cast it away at just one signal from me. As if this sorrow had never existed in the first place. I know that she can bear a lot of pain. She will protect me above everything else. When she saw that her sorrow was making me suffer, she cast aside her grief entirely. Today when I saw her adorned with ornaments and smiling at me, I was exhilarated. I feel as if she is a Goddess from heaven who has been sent only to protect a weak mortal like me. If I had
