11

Asha was in great need of a companion. Even the festival of love cannot be sustained by two people alone --- one requires a third party for the sweet distribution of intimate confidences. Binodini, her heart hungry as it was, drank in the history of the young bride's new love with the avidity of a drunkard swallowing burning spirits. Her head grew dizzy with it; the blood in her veins seemed to catch fire. In the hushed depths of noon, when the mother slept, when the servants had vanished to their rest on the ground floor, when Mahendra had been driven by Bihari's prodding to attend college for an hour, and from the farthest edge of the heat-scorched blue sky the cry of a kite floated down in a thread of sound --- at such times, in the solitary bedchamber, Asha would lie on the low bed with her loose hair spread upon the pillow, while Binodini, a bolster tucked beneath her chest, lay face-down beside her, wholly absorbed in the murmured tale.

The roots of Binodini's ears would flush crimson, her breath would quicken and flow fast. Binodini would draw out every last detail with her questioning, hear the same things over and again, and when the facts were exhausted she would venture into the realm of fancy. She would say, "Now tell me, dear --- what if this had happened, what would you have done? And if that had been so, what then?" Asha too was happy to be led down these long roads of impossible speculation, prolonging the sweet conversation without end.

"Now tell me, my dear little Sand-in-the-Eye," said Binodini, "what if you had been married to Bihari-babu instead?"

"No, no, don't say such things," Asha cried, "I feel so ashamed! But it would have been lovely if it had been you --- after all, there was some talk of it once, wasn't there?"

"There was talk of many things with many people," said Binodini.

"It didn't happen --- and that is well enough. I am as I am, and I am content." Asha protested.

How could she concede that Binodini's lot was better than her own?

"Think about it, my dear Bali --- imagine if you had married my husband. It very nearly happened, you know." Indeed it nearly had.

And why had it not? This very bed, this very room, had once waited for her. Binodini's eyes moved over the beautifully appointed chamber, and she could not put the thought from her mind. In this house she was merely a guest today --- welcomed for the present, gone tomorrow. In the afternoons, Binodini would take pains of her own accord to dress and arrange Asha's hair with incomparable skill, then send her off to her husband. As if in a veil, Binodini's imagination would follow the adorned young bride into that private room where an enchanted young man awaited --- she herself walking behind, invisible.

Then again, on other days, she would refuse to let Asha go at all. She would say, "Oh, sit a little longer, do. Your husband isn't going anywhere. He is no wild deer of the forest --- he is a tame fawn on your anchal's leash." And then by various pretexts she would hold Asha back, contriving to make her late.

Mahendra, in considerable vexation, would say, "Your friend shows no sign of leaving --- when does she intend to go home?" Asha would say eagerly, "Please, don't be cross with my Sand-in-the-Eye. You don't know how much she loves to hear about you --- with what care she dresses me and sends me to you." Rajlakshmi would not allow Asha to do any household work.

Binodini, taking the young bride's part, drew her into the work of the house. Binodini herself was occupied nearly all day, and she would not let Asha rest either. She was constructing, link by link, an unbroken chain of duties such that it became very difficult for Asha to find any gap in it. Imagining Mahendra pacing in frustrated agitation in some empty upstairs room, Binodini would smile to herself --- a hard, sharp, inward smile. Asha would say anxiously, "I must go now, my dear Sand-in-the-Eye --- he will be angry."

"Wait," Binodini would say quickly.

"Just finish this last bit. It won't take much longer." A little later Asha would fidget again and cry out, "No, really, this time he will truly be angry --- let me go, I must go."

"What of a little anger?" Binodini would say.

"Love without a dash of anger loses its savour --- like a curry without red pepper." But what the savour of red pepper was, Binodini alone knew --- she had the condiment, but no curry to go with it.

A fire seemed to run through her every vein. Wherever she turned her eyes, it was as if sparks flew. What a sweet household to preside over --- what a doting husband to command! This house --- she would have made it a kingdom; this husband --- she would have had him at her feet. Would the house have looked like this then, or the man have worn such an expression? And in her place, this little girl, this toy doll! Clasping Asha by the neck, she murmured: "Tell me, my dear Sand-in-the-Eye --- tell me, what passed between you both last night. Did you say what I taught you? When I hear of your love it takes away all my hunger and thirst."