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Asha asked Annapurna one day, "Tell me, Masima --- do you ever think of uncle?" Annapurna said, "I was widowed at eleven. The image of my husband feels no more than a shadow in the mind." Asha asked, "Then whom do you think of, Masi?" Annapurna said, with a faint smile, "I think of that God in whom my husband now dwells." Asha said, "And that gives you happiness?" Annapurna drew Asha close and stroked her head tenderly and said, "Could you understand the innermost things of my heart, child? My own heart knows them, and He whom I think of knows them --- that is enough." Asha thought to herself: "Does not He whom I think of night and day know the things of my heart? Why has he stopped writing to me, simply because I cannot write well?" Asha had not received a letter from Mahendra for some days.

She sighed and thought: "If my Chokher Bali were here beside me, she would know how to write out the thoughts of my heart properly." Thinking that a poorly written, worthless letter would find no welcome from her husband, Asha's hand refused entirely to move when she tried to write.

The harder she tried to write carefully, the worse her handwriting became. The more she tried to compose and order her thoughts, the more her sentences remained stubbornly incomplete. If only she could write a single "At your blessed feet" and sign her name and have Mahendra, like an all-knowing god, understand everything --- then her letter-writing would be fulfilled.

God had given her so much love; why had He not given even a little language to go with it? One evening, after the vesper prayers at the temple, Asha came back to the house and sat at Annapurna's feet, gently stroking them with her hands. After a long silence she said, "Masi, you say it is a wife's duty to serve her husband as a deity --- but what is a wife who is ignorant, who has no understanding, who does not know how to serve? What is she to do?" Annapurna looked at Asha's face for a little while, drew a suppressed sigh, and said, "My child, I too am ignorant --- and yet I go on serving God as best I can." Asha said, "He knows your heart, and so He is pleased. But suppose a husband is not pleased by the service of one who is ignorant?" Annapurna said, "Not everyone has the power to please everyone, child. But if a wife serves her husband and performs the duties of her household with sincere reverence and devotion and care --- then even if her husband should scorn and cast it aside, the Lord of all worlds Himself will gather it up." Asha sat in silence without a word.

She tried many times to take comfort from her aunt's saying, but the thought that even the Lord of all worlds could give purpose and fulfilment to what her husband had scorned and cast aside --- that thought simply would not take hold within her. She sat with downcast face, stroking her aunt's feet. Annapurna then took Asha's hand and drew her still closer; she kissed her upon the head; and forcing her choked voice free through determined effort, she said, "Chuni, the lessons that come through grief and pain cannot be had merely by hearing them with the ear. This aunt of yours too, in her day, at your age, spread out the great ledger of give-and-take with the world, as you are doing now. In those days I too thought as you do: if I serve someone, why should they not be satisfied? If I pay reverence to someone, why should I not receive grace in return? If I labour for someone's good, why should they not acknowledge it? At every step I found it was not so. At last, when it became unbearable, I felt that my every effort in this world had come to nothing --- and it was on that very day that I left the world. Today I see that nothing of mine was in vain. O child --- the One with whom the true and real account stands, who is the great creditor behind this market-place of a world --- it is He who has been receiving everything all along, and in my heart He has acknowledged this. Had I known it then! Had I done the world's work as His work --- had I given my heart to the world as if I were giving it to Him --- who could have brought me grief?" Asha lay in bed and turned many things over in her mind far into the night, yet could not clearly understand any of it.

But her reverence for her saintly aunt was boundless, and even without fully comprehending what her aunt had said, she accepted it as something to be held over her head. Toward the One to whom her aunt had given the highest place in her heart, above all earthly things, Asha rose in the darkness and sat upright upon her bed and bowed low in prostration. She said, "I am only a child; I do not know You. I know only my husband --- do not hold that against me. The worship I offer my husband, O God --- tell him to receive it. If he should spurn it and push it away, I will not survive. I am not so virtuous as my aunt; I cannot find refuge in You and be saved." And so saying, Asha bowed again and again, her forehead to the mattress.

The time came for Asha's uncle to return home. On the evening before the farewell, Annapurna drew Asha into her lap and said, "Chuni, my child, it is not in my power to shield you always from the griefs and pains and misfortunes of the world. This is my counsel to you: from wherever sorrow may come, however great it may be, keep your faith, keep your devotion steady within you; let your righteousness remain unshaken." Asha took the dust of her feet and said, "Give me your blessing, Masima --- so it shall be."