There was no limit to my joy. Professor Bhatia had intended to travel to all the corners of the country. He was writing a book on socialism for which he needed to do research in every major town. He wanted Lajjawati to accompany him. It was decided that in the next Chait season, after he returned from his travels, we would be united. I spent the days of separation impatiently. So far I had felt that Keshav would win the battle. I was frustrated, but I had peace of mind. Now I had hope but my peace would be disturbed.3
It was the month of March and the days of waiting and hard work were over. It was time to reap the harvest. The professor wrote a letter from Dhaka to inform me that due to some unforeseen reasons he would not be able to return in March, but would do so in May. In the meantime, the Diwan Sahib of the state of Kashmir, Lala Somnath Kapur, came to Nainital on vacation. The governor threw a party in his honour. All the members of the council received invitations. Members of different parties made the customary speeches. On behalf of the council I played the role of the host. Diwan Sahib was highly impressed by my speech. While leaving, he shook hands with me as a special gesture and invited me to come to his place. He was accompanied by his daughter, Sushila, who stood behind him with her head lowered. I could not control my gaze. During the conversation she stood up several times but drew back like a child who leaps towards a stranger but withdraws to her mother’s lap, frightened. Sushila was an undercurrent of cool water while Lajjawati was a flowering garden where there were bowers of trees, lush vegetation, musical cascades and antelopes absorbed in their games. The whole scene was tinted with the colors of nature that made a deep impression on one’s mind. As I reached home I was so tired, as though I had returned after a long journey. The appeal of beauty is eternal. I didn’t know why its impact was so deep.
As I lay down, her image was before me. I wanted to drive it away. I was afraid that even a moment’s lack of caution would drown me. I already belonged to Lajjawati. She was the owner of my heart. I had no control over it. But all my precautions and mental arguments were in vain. Who can stop the boat from floating away in a flood? Helpless, I set my boat free to sail in the realm of imagination. It floated with the waves for some time and then disappeared and became a part of the deluge.
On the following day, I arrived at the bungalow of Diwan Sahib at the appointed hour. I was hesitant and my feet trembled. Just as a baby shuts his or her eyes at the peal of thunder, I was afraid that he might ask me questions. Even a simple farmer would not be so afraid in a court of law. Actually, I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t have the strength to face the situation.
Diwan Sahib shook hands with me with great warmth. For about an hour he talked about the problems of the nation and its economy. I was amazed by his broad range of knowledge. I had never seen such a witty person with such a rich repertoire of jokes. He was sixty, but his elegance and pleasant temperament had their appeal. He knew by heart many poetic couplets and slokas. Diwan-e-Hafiz was on the tip of his tongue. I glanced frequently in all directions with restless eyes. My ears were alert to hear her voice. My eyes were here and my heart was somewhere else. There was bitterness along with joy.
It was nine at night, time for me to leave. I was embarrassed because Diwan Sahib might have suspicions about me. He might think that I have no other work. Why was I not leaving? After two and a half hours, the discussions were over. The fun of his jokes had also been exhausted. The visit was overtaken by melancholy, as happens after a spirited conversation. Several times, I intended to get up. But a lover cannot even die while waiting. By nine-thirty, I had no choice but to leave. My longings came to an end.
When I left the bungalow, I was drowned in sorrow and felt so drained, as though life had gone out of me. I began to hate myself. I reproached myself for my stupidity. You think that you are somebody. But here no one cares about you. No one cares about your existence or the lack of it. From all the signs she appeared to be an unmarried girl but there is no dearth of unmarried girls in the world. There’s no lack of beauty either. If the sight of every beautiful and unmarried girl reduces you to such a state then your life will be destroyed.
This is how the heart responded. Her heart reacted in the same way. In all probability her heart might also be presenting the same arguments. Why should she be attracted towards every handsome and soft-spoken male that she met? If it is a cause of infamy for man, it is simply ruin for women.
On the second day in the evening I was sitting on the veranda of my bungalow and reading the newspaper. I didn’t feel like going to the club. I was feeling lethargic. At that moment I saw Diwan Sahib riding on his phaeton and passing by. Sushila was sitting by him. I had the impression that she was looking at me, though I couldn’t say whether she raised her eyes. But I kept on staring at the phaeton until it disappeared.
The next day I was
