365bet娱乐

BY 鈥楢NANDA鈥�
(Rendered by K. S. G. from the original story in Kannada)

The Goddess of Earth is alone

The equal of the housewife in forgiveness鈥�

An old saying.

It was morning. I looked at the watch. It was already nearing eight, Padma had got up by six, looked into the cradle where Baby Aruna was sleeping, and left the room after adjusting the coverlet over his body. I used to get up by five o鈥檆lock every morning; but today, though I was awake by then, I continued to lie in bed ruminating various ideas. The hour lent itself to such a mood: such a calm spell of two hours! During the last three days I had been revolving in my mind the theme of a picture. 鈥淭he Forgiveness of Radha鈥� was to be its title. Lord Sri Krishna who had vouchsafed Madana鈥搕he Lord of Love鈥搕o the world has committed a fault in respect of Radha. Having promised to meet Radha he fails to keep his word. Radha waits in vain for her lover all the night: her impatience and anger reach the highest pitch: she has drowned herself in her tears: and become wan and worn by utter disappointment caused by her cruel Lord. Sri Krishna goes to her next morning beseeching her forgiveness. Seeing in front of her the Lord of the Universe, the slayer of demons, the beloved of a thousand Gopis鈥搕he mighty Krishna standing in humble penitence, her heart melts, her wounded pride is assuaged. Radha graciously forgives him鈥�.The more I think of this wonderful situation, the more entrancing it becomes. How shall I paint it? What should be the ground?....How shall I make up the colour scheme? The lines that should represent Radha and Krishna and the composition of the figures this moment should result in a proper balance and rhythm. Brooding over this artistic problem for two or three hours in the morning, I had arrived at a satisfactory solution and visualized the whole thing in my mind. All that remained to be done was to transfer my ideas on to paper. Again, I looked at the watch: still four minutes to eight. I resolved to get up on the stroke of eight鈥揳nd allowed myself the indulgence of the few minutes that remained. At that moment appeared at the door Ra鈥搉o, Padma.

鈥淲hy鈥搘hat is this? My right foot is itching this morning,鈥濃�搒he said as she started rubbing the sole of her foot against the door-step鈥撯�淪o鈥揑 must be rather careful today,鈥� I said, trailing off the end of the sentence in a single sneeze, another omen of ill-luck. Baby Aruna started crying with a loud shriek that pierced through the very roof. Padma immediately went to him, took him up, rocked him in her arms, and came near my cot.

鈥淭hings don鈥檛 look well set today. Your right foot itching: my atomic bomb of a sneeze: well, both of us shall have to be careful today. Look out!鈥� I said.

鈥淒o you know why all this happened?鈥�

鈥淣o鈥揷an鈥� you tell me why?鈥�

鈥淵ou were overcome by laziness today. That is why.鈥�

鈥淲hat do you mean by that? I was busy working all the time!鈥澛� I said, impressively putting as much dignity into my voice as I could.

鈥淥h! And what work may that be? Lying prone鈥搘ithout so much as moving a muscle of your limbs and blinking hard all the time!鈥�

鈥淵ou will never understand all that, Padma. In our profession, working with the brain is much more important than working with the hand.鈥�

鈥淵es, let that be! Brain-work or hand-work鈥搘ell, leave it alone: but first shake yourself up鈥揳nd attend next to the work with your mouth in the shape of a well-cooked and deliciously seasoned dish of boiled peas that is awaiting you.鈥�

Before Padma had pronounced the last word, I was galvanised into activity and moved quickly to get out of bed. But suddenly she said鈥撯�淎h鈥揳 little patience鈥揜est a little while, please鈥濃�揳nd gently pushed me into bed. I was surprised. Boiled green peas are no good if they get cold.

鈥淲hy?鈥� I asked somewhat intrigued.

鈥淲hat is this?鈥揕ying so late in bed鈥揳nd then having brought out an ill-omened sneeze鈥搚ou will get up from your left side on the top of it all.鈥� Saying this, she set down Aruna, and rolling me over to my right side, pulled me out. But of what avail? I had by then more than half got up from my left side.

I gave strict instructions to Padma that no one was to be allowed to disturb me that day, that I would be engaged in finishing the picture鈥搕hat if anyone called they were to be told that I was not 鈥渁t home鈥�. I am using the phrase 鈥渟trict instructions鈥� merely for my own satisfaction: Padma always enjoys exemption from these strict injunctions. She knows it and carries out the orders with her own reservations.

I ate the boiled peas; washed it down with a cup of coffee by 9 o鈥檆lock, and sat down in my studio working on the picture. I never stirred from the place till 3 in the afternoon. The picture was three-quarters finished鈥�. A forest ground, a bakula tree in the foreground at the right hand corner. Leaning against it, the raised right arm placed against a branch, the left arm poised on the hip, with her partly turned away from Krishna, the fair one, supple like a creeper, is standing in a pose possible only to the graceful Radha鈥搕he jewel among the Gopis. Though with her to the Lord, her heart seemed to be turned towards him judging by her loving side-glance, her head slightly inclined, claiming Him for her own. A bewitching smile is playing on her finely formed lips, and she seems to be drowning her lover in the nectar of her sweet affection. The Lord who measured the entire Universe in three steps in His avatar, as Vamana鈥搕he tamer of Bali鈥檚 pride鈥搃s seen sitting at the feet of Radha, taking her left foot on to his right lap鈥揳nd placing on it as a gift his flute whose music thrills all creation, sentient and insentient. He has lifted up his face to her, his looks full of meek submission and fervent appeal. Over Radha鈥檚 head is seen the branch of the bakula tree, its flowers all opened out like so many eyes, its leaves like so many ears all agog with eagerness to hear what the two lovers might say to each other at this moment, and to see how this love quarrel would end. The situation opens out an endless vista鈥搕o the farthest limit of one鈥檚 genius, and to the highest flight of one鈥檚 imagination. It is full of aesthetic possibility鈥搕his unique drama of love. I had lavished all the artistic power of which I was capable in visualizing this scene and giving a shape to it in this picture. I had only to devote an hour more, and the picture would be completed. Just then I relaxed for a moment, leaned on my seat, my eye playing over the picture, and my brush dipped in one colour or the other, giving a few finishing touches here and there; just at that moment came an interruption鈥搕he usual exception to my 鈥渟trict injunction鈥� not to be disturbed. Why should I express surprise that Padma walked in鈥揳nyone might well ask. But there is a reason鈥揳 very good reason for my mentioning it. Padma would never approach me in a matter-of-fact, prosaic style. She had as many styles as the lotus has petals. If it were a matter of asking for a little money, she adopted one style. If it was to ask for a 鈥淧rabhat鈥� sari or 鈥淏andhan鈥� bangles, the gait was different. By the way she made up to me of a morning I could see that she wished to go to a picture that evening. If she was trying to pull my leg she assumed a different style altogether. If she had decided on going to her mother鈥檚 home, that was unmistakably shown in the way she moved towards me. If she had to make a report of Aruna鈥檚 doings, whether I was busy or otherwise didn鈥檛 make the slightest difference to her. And as she sailed in and began her narration, her words took a poetic turn and were delivered in rhythmic cadence in complete accord with the subject matter of the narration. There was no 鈥榖lank verse鈥欌�搉othing so colourless ever escaped her lips on such occasions. But today the style of Padma鈥檚 approach was altogether different from any usually adopted by her. Shall I call it the 鈥淐handamaruta Kranta鈥� measure? In whatever way she approached me, it produced pleasurable feelings in me, usually. But today it would have been well if she had left me alone for another half-hour or so. My picture would have been finished and I would have been in a mood to welcome her, whatever the style of her movement. But this interruption鈥搃t was trying. Her woman鈥檚 heart would not yield precedence to anything else in claiming my attention. This is proper feeling for a woman in respect of the lord of her affections. In my own conception of the Radha Krishna picture which I was composing, a similar idea was also brought out in a way. Krishna is the centre of affection of thousands of Gopis. Sitting at the feet of Radha鈥揔rishna has shown approval, for the time being, of the idea that the woman鈥檚 heart seeks the exclusive attention of her lover. How should it cease to be applicable in the case of me鈥搘ho is the creator of this picture? The Radha of that day is the Padma of today: the same woman鈥檚 heart in both: the only difference is that of time鈥揜adha, belonged to a past age while Padma belonged to this. But if she stood upon her rights in this fashion鈥揳nd it became habit with her鈥搘hat should happen to my normal work? Where would I be if Padma kept on interrupting me every now and then in this inconsiderate way? It was not in her nature to appreciate the importance of the work in which I was engaged: she did not waste a thought on my convenience or wishes in this matter. We had both made a solemn pact early in our married life, four years ago鈥搕o regulate the politics of domestic life. This was an agreement we had entered into of our own free wills; that we should not interfere with each other鈥檚 sphere of duties, that each should look upon the other鈥檚 work with feelings of regard and respect. For my part I have been observing the terms of this sacred (sacred to whom?鈥揑s more than what I can say) pact in letter and in spirit. But Padma?鈥揟his Hitler of a woman has broken the pact every day鈥揳ll through the weeks and months of all these years, in her own non-chalant, defiant manner! And what is more鈥搒he is ready to justify every breach of hers with sharp arguments. God created man; and as if to test his intelligence He put a problem before him in the form of a, woman. I had read something like this somewhere and forgot who said it. Some poor fellow! But words precious as gold!

There was a peremptory reason for Padma鈥檚 raid on my studio today. I glanced in her direction without lifting my head鈥搉oticed the 鈥榬eason鈥� perched on her shoulder. Truly there was something unusual and strange about Aruna; and it was not surprising that Padma rushed in as she did. I knew what a bundle of mischief this two-year child was,鈥揚adma knew it even better than I did. She liked nothing so much as to recount to me all his hundred acts of mischief on a hundred occasions! She would not be content with describing it at one sitting and being done with the subject鈥揵ut loved to do it piecemeal and severally at any and every hour. And she would not allow any time to elapse, but break in upon me with a colorful account of the latest prank of the child鈥揳t all odd hours. Today Aruna seems to have invaded the worship-room in the house. His face and hands and the front portion of his silk frock were all smeared over with turmeric and vermilion.

鈥淧lease leave your painting for a moment. Look here鈥搇ook at this painting,鈥� said Padma approaching me with Aruna jumping up and down on her shoulder. 鈥淎h yes! And a fine picture he makes鈥搕he painter and the picture both seem to have become one! Well, what happened?鈥濃�揑 asked. 鈥淣othing much! Your precious son started offering worship today. And this is the great result!鈥� she said with a mother鈥檚 pride.

鈥淪eeing the way he has used up all the articles of worship on himself, your son seems to have treated God with scant courtesy!鈥� I said shaking my head.

鈥淚t is difficult to say that yet鈥揵ut one thing is certain鈥撯赌�

鈥淎nd that is?鈥撯赌�

鈥淗e beats his father in mixing colours! Is that not so, baby?鈥� Saying this she came closer and stood behind my .

Aruna did not understand our talk, or he did not approve of it all鈥搊r he wanted to register his protest鈥搘hatever the reason, he gave expression to his violent dissatisfaction by giving a sudden kick at my elbow. It was a catastrophe!

The brush was in my hand. Aruna鈥檚 kick sent it flying on to the picture where it made an ugly patch right across the painting. The picture was ruined beyond repair. The work of six long hours was undone in the twinkling of an eye. My anger became uncontrollable. I roared like thunder. I broke the brush into two and threw it away. I kicked the box of colours with my foot. I tore up the picture into bits and scattered them on Padma. My indignation was too strong for words. I clenched my fist till the fingers tingled red with blood, and faced her with eyes glaring with fury. Aruna, seeing all this, broke out into a laugh. But Padma quivered in fear observing my fierce mood. Apprehending that I might do something violent to the child, she folded him close to her breast and stood trembling from head to foot. In the fire of wrath that issued from my eyes, Padma withered and sank in a moment.

For a while neither of us spoke. Aruna was stupefied,鈥揳nd looked now my face and now at hers. Padma broke the silence. She looked at my burning eyes with a tender look, and said in a soft voice:

鈥淲-h-at for鈥揳re you so angry?鈥�

鈥淲hat for鈥搘hat鈥揻or? Have you no eyes that you ask me?鈥揥hat for, indeed! Get out of here!鈥� I shouted.

鈥淏ut it has happened鈥搘hat can one do about it?鈥� she said in the most gentle manner, coming nearer and placing her hands on my shoulders.

鈥淵es, it has happened鈥搃t is all over and done鈥揑 am dead now鈥揼o and perform the obsequies.鈥� I shouted aloud.

Padma usually was never frightened by my anger nor bowed before it. She had got accustomed to my temper鈥揾ad tamed it, in fact鈥搕hese four years on many occasions. But today it was a new experience. My temper had taken an unexpectedly violent turn. And in its blind wayward course, two words had escaped my lips鈥搒uch as I had never spoken before 鈥搒uch as should never have been spoken at all! Hearing my last words, she crumpled up and collapsed. She closed her ears with her hands鈥搖nable to hear any more鈥揳nd cried鈥濃�揂h! Rama鈥揜ama! No more 鈥揑 cannot live any more!鈥�

And taking up the child she walked away as abruptly as she had come.

The moment Padma left the studio, I began to sober down. Her parting words of anguish pierced my heart. I stood still for a moment and looked at the brush that I had broken and cast on the floor. I noticed the scattered pieces containing my painting that I had torn up in my rage, and the broken paint box which I had kicked aside. I heaved a heavy sigh. I had been revolving in my mind the theme of this picture for four days, had spent six long hours in making it, and now it had all come to this. The thought of all this pained my heart: on the other hand I had used cruel words鈥揳h, too cruel鈥搕owards my life鈥檚 partner and pronounced on her the terrible curse of widowhood: this filled me with deep remorse. My mind was dulled with pain; and I stood in a daze. It was pain, rather than blood鈥搕hat seemed to course through my veins. I had hardly strength to stand. I went to the sofa and stretched myself on it, immersed in thought....What, after all, had I lost? Just a little paper鈥搒ome paint鈥揳 picture that I had myself made鈥揳nd could make again if I sat at it for six hours. If I could not, what was my worth as an artist? And it was possible that my next attempt would be an improvement on the present one. So the personal loss was not so great after all that I should have flown into such a fit of rage, losing all self-control. I remembered the story of Newton who displayed extraordinary patience under similar circumstances when he had sustained a more grievous loss. Early in his career all his work was accidentally burnt up owing to the mischief of his dog鈥揳nd how well he controlled himself on that occasion! And what had I done鈥搕he work of a mere six hours spoilt by an accident caused by my dear child鈥揳nd I had raved like a mad man, turning the flood, of my wrath on his mother. As soon as I realised this contrast between the great Newton and myself, I cursed myself. And how much Padma meant to me! She helped to give fulfillment to my life鈥揳nd always thought only of my happiness. I had treated her worse than a dog! How wretched was my wrath! And when I came to think on it, my picture was just a daub of paint, a lifeless object鈥揳 mere trifle in my life: an innocent child had spoilt it, by accident. And in return, what had I done鈥搃ts father鈥搕he man of years and discretion? If I had not become blinded by my passion, it should be now hanging before me with its lovely, entrancing theme. I thought of the mother鈥檚 pride as she came in with her child jumping on her shoulder. I had destroyed a fine picture that breathed with feeling鈥搘hat a sinner! My Aruna had spoilt the picture鈥揑 too had ruined another鈥搘asn鈥檛 I his father? Yes鈥� in how many places, in how many ways the pictures of the Divine Creator are getting ruined, and torn into pieces. But if the Divine Father were also as short-tempered as I, where would we be?

The picture was destroyed; it must be restored. I got up. I went seeking Padma. She was lying in her bed-room, sobbing bitterly with her face pressed to the pillow. Aruna was sitting by her, sucking a Japanese rubber doll of Krishna. Standing on the door-step I gazed on this scene. My legs refused to enter the room. Padma was my wife鈥揳nd I was her lord鈥搕his feeling at the moment made me keep at a distance. No, I was standing as a culprit outside the temple of the goddess of my good fortune, who had turned away from me in just indignation. I was hoping that Padma would lift her head and see me. I brought out a cough once or twice. Fond hope! She was not likely to stir or soothe her anguish if I coughed myself inside out all the day! I went in gently and sat by her side on the cot. I softly touched her shoulder. She did not move. My touch only rekindled her grief. She buried her face more close and wept in silence. At a loss how to proceed, I looked this side and that and turned my attention to Aruna. I grinned at him as if asking for his intervention in this crisis. He merely opened his tiny mouth and made a meaningless 鈥淎-hchchi鈥�. I was dismayed: but as if to reassure me he brought out the sound 鈥淎-hchchi鈥� again. 鈥榊ou have saved me鈥�, I said to myself and took him on to my lap. To caress the baby is the best and most unfailing approach to win a mother鈥檚 favour. I wished to try this device and gave him an articulate kiss, and opened conversation with him. But his reply was wholly irrelevant. He rained two or three blows on my face with his rubber doll (fine rubber indeed), and threw it on the floor after sucking it. But to my face it tasted so different from what it did to his mouth! And then he stamped his tiny palm, all wet with spittle and coloured with turmeric and vermilion, on my shirt. And then he tried to separate my nose from my face, fancying it to be some toy! Failing to dislodge it with his hand, he applied his mouth to it. I shrieked with pain. O Lord! It is all very well to say he is a little baby鈥搘ith a small mouth and sprouting teeth. But then the bite? It was pretty impressive: the pain was fairly severe 鈥� though of a temporary character. But the mark left on the nose! Well, it would take at least eight days to heal鈥搘hich meant I should be a prisoner at home during this period鈥搘ithout the face to go out鈥搊n account of the prank of this mischievous brat. And what a punishment! It was too ridiculous for words. And looking at Aruna, I exclaimed, 鈥淪ee the fine work you have done, you little monkey鈥搕hough someone else possibly has to bear the blame of it. Even if I swore on the Bhagavad Gita that you are the culprit, no one would be inclined to believe me.鈥揝o I shall be a detenu for eight days, all on account of you!鈥� He again eyed my nose as if to say that the period should be increased to a month鈥揳nd should not be merely for eight days. But I was on my guard and told him, 鈥淟ook here, little fellow! All the calamities of today are on account of you鈥揳nd you have got to set them right.鈥� But he was unperturbed鈥揳s if he had no responsibility for any of the happenings of the day and simply expectorated 鈥淕ee-Geedl鈥� He shook his head from side to side, clapped his hands and ended by exploding with a 鈥渂ur鈥� squirting a quantity of saliva on to my face.

鈥淎ll right鈥揑 own it is all my fault鈥揑 have received blow, bite and been spitted upon鈥� and condemned, in addition, to undergo eight days鈥� imprisonment. Why then are you angry any more鈥搕he more I make up you?鈥� I said to him鈥揵ut really addressing my wife through him. Padma was still silent, and motionless. 鈥淲ell, look here, little fellow! Manage somehow to get your mother to look at me鈥揳nd I shall get you butter biscuits, a silver rattle鈥揳 鈥�Shanta Apte鈥� sari鈥揺verything鈥濃�揑 said again to Aruna鈥揳nd lifted him on to Padma鈥檚 shoulder. He immediately put her hand to her plait of hair and crying 鈥淗ey! Hey! 鈥� started tugging at it. Padma had no option but to turn her face. She slowly released his hold on her plait and gently slipped him to the other side of her. When doing this she had perforce to turn her face and take a look at me. My appearance at the moment must have seemed to her perfectly ridiculous. But she did not laugh: that would spoil the (tragic) drama. Woman is normally not so simple a creature鈥揳nd in such a crisis! It is only those who have been caught in such a situation that can realise what it means. If she continue her look she might be forced to laugh; but laugh she shouldn鈥檛鈥搕hat was her resolve鈥搒o Padma once again hid her face. When her face was turned towards me for that brief moment, I had hopes she would relent, with a little, further effort on my part. Though she was silent, there was a slight shaking in her body. Was she weeping again鈥搊r was she laughing at the way my nose was bitten by the baby?鈥揑 could hardly guess. Anyhow, Padma was gradually getting round. I moved a little closer, bent down and placed my hand on her shoulder; and in a voice that should have melted even a stone I called out 鈥淧adma.鈥�

No reply. She merely shrugged her shoulders to shake off my hand.

鈥淧补诲尘补箩颈.鈥�

Again another shrug of her shoulder. 鈥淧adma, Padma Rani, Padma Sudha, Padmakshi, Padmamba, Padma Devi,鈥� I said, stroking her shoulder with every word. What鈥揹o you want me to chant all the eighteen names of the goddess as they do in the temple?鈥�

But the goddess had taken a vow of silence. Realising that words were not of much avail, I turned her face towards mine. But it proved fruitless: the eye鈥搘hich is the centre of expression in the face鈥搘as closed. Her face was all wet with her tears鈥揳nd was flushed with grief鈥揳nd appeared true to her name. The laugh had come upto her lips but stood arrested. I wished to draw it out鈥揳nd so bent further. At this moment鈥揑 don鈥檛 know how she guessed my purpose though her eyes were shut鈥搒he put her hand against her mouth and said:

鈥淕o, please鈥濃�搒till with eyes shut.

鈥淲here shall I go?鈥搘hy are you so angry, Padma?鈥� I said, pulling her hands towards me. But she quickly released her hand from my grasp, and still with eyes shut said,

鈥淕o away, please. I should not exist any longer.鈥�

鈥淲hat should happen then?鈥�

鈥淧lease don鈥檛 talk to me. I do not exist, I don鈥檛 exist at all!鈥�

鈥淗ow can I believe it? If I put out my hand, you are still perceptible to my touch鈥�

鈥淒on鈥檛 touch me at all鈥�

鈥淭hat is certainly not possible! Oh, ho.鈥�

鈥淲hy o-h-o about it; there is no o h-o about it鈥�

鈥淟ook here, Padma! Please put an end to this play-acting鈥搃t is all feigned鈥揑 know it very well鈥�

At this she opened her eyes and sat up. What had been terribly real to her, I had called 鈥榩lay-acting鈥� and 鈥榝eigning鈥�.

鈥淭ell me鈥搘here is my drama or play-acting any more? You have made an end of it with a word from your lips鈥濃�揂nd as she said this, her eyes filled with tears and overflowed.

鈥淲ell鈥揻orget all about it, what should be done if you get so angry?鈥�

鈥淲hat fine words you speak! Who got angry?鈥揑s it to get angry that I married you?鈥�

鈥淏ut then seeing what has happened, that seems to have been the chief purpose鈥撯赌� I said.

鈥淥n the other hand鈥搃t is to suffer your anger鈥搕o wither and be scorched by it that I came into your house鈥�

鈥�Siva鈥揝iva! Siva鈥揝iva! what bitter words you speak, Padma.鈥�

鈥淵es, yes鈥搈y words are bitter鈥揵ut the words that came out of your of mouth are pearls of priceless worth, I suppose?鈥�

鈥淚 never claimed that.鈥�

鈥淒o what you like鈥揳fter I am dead and burnt.鈥�

鈥淣o, Padma鈥揑 grant that the words I spoke were bad鈥搕rue鈥搇et鈥檚 grant it. Thinking over it calmly now I realise they were very bad indeed鈥揵ut鈥撯赌�

鈥淵es鈥損roceed鈥揵ut what?鈥�

鈥淲hen one is angry鈥揳nd that too all on a sudden鈥揳nd by accident鈥搊ne has not time to think over one鈥檚 words鈥搚ou know that very well鈥搘ords simply pour out of their own accord.鈥�

鈥淔ine accident鈥揻ine suddenness indeed! Your picture was spoilt鈥揟rue. But did I come in with that intention? Or did the child kick you with any such motive? You tell me, yourself鈥�

鈥淟eave it alone鈥揚adma鈥揊orget all about it.鈥�

鈥淎h鈥揳h鈥搉ow it is 鈥楶adma, forget all about it.鈥� Fine saying indeed!鈥�

鈥淲hy is this, Padma. Even a Court of Law looks with lenience on acts done in a fit of anger and provocation鈥揵ut you鈥撯赌�

鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to hear about your Courts and cases! In this court鈥搕his is the rule鈥揾ereafter.鈥�

鈥淲hat?鈥揂nd hereafter?鈥�

鈥淚 am the servant of your house鈥搕he sweeper of your rooms.鈥�

鈥淪o our servant-maid Kempi should be dismissed, I suppose?鈥�

鈥淵es, dismissed鈥搘hy should she continue?鈥�

鈥淲ell!鈥揟hen who should do the cooking?鈥�

鈥淵es鈥揑 am the cook in addition鈥揟hat is all. What further?鈥� I felt like laughing鈥搕he conversation was sliding into the frivolous.

鈥淗ow can it be 鈥楾hat is all鈥欌�揚adma?鈥� said I laughing.

鈥淭hat is indeed all鈥揌ow can it be otherwise?鈥�

鈥淵ou have forgotten, then, the pact we entered into at the time of marriage鈥�

鈥淲hat pact?鈥�

鈥淭he priest who recited the mantras spoke of dharma, artha, kama, moksha, progeny and so on鈥揑 can recall it vividly as if I am hearing it now鈥�

鈥淵es, what doubt is there?鈥�dharma, karma, artha have all been done鈥揳nd in the fire of your anger, kama has been burnt up鈥揳nd in one single word, you have also given me moksha. And then鈥揾ere is one member of your Progeny鈥搚es, all the terms of the pact have been duly fulfilled. Now you may say whatever you please.鈥�

鈥淎nd you?鈥�

鈥淚 have said鈥揳lready.鈥�

鈥淔or how many days鈥搊r, rather how long?鈥�

鈥淎s long as I remain merely a servant in your house.鈥�

鈥淚 never said you were merely a servant.鈥�

鈥淲hat else am I? Is it necessary I should be more explicit.鈥�

鈥淗ow can it ever be鈥撯�楢 servant when at work鈥揳 counsellor at the ear鈥揳 mother at dinner, a Padma in her looks鈥搚ou know the lines鈥揂h! ah鈥揚adma鈥揂nd then there is something about forgiveness and mother earth鈥揳 whole bundle of virtues at the end鈥搚ou know the verse, Padma dear?鈥�

鈥淚 am no longer 鈥楶adma dear鈥欌�揑 am only the fuel to feed your anger.鈥�

鈥淪ee, Padma鈥搚ou are again harping on the same thing鈥揧ou are making too much ado about nothing: making out a pie鈥檚 worth of anger as if it were a rupee 飞辞谤迟丑.鈥�

鈥淚ndeed! If this is a pie鈥檚 worth I wonder what the rupee worth will be like,鈥� said Padma, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head.

鈥淲ell, that isn鈥檛 difficult to calculate鈥搚ou have only to multiply by a hundred and ninety two,鈥� said I laughing.

鈥淪o there is a rupee worth of anger in store for me鈥搘ell鈥搈y life is hardly worth living then,鈥� she said touching her forehead.

鈥淟ook here, Padma, it all depends upon what value we attach to things鈥搃n other words鈥搚our view-point chiefly. For instance, take a lemon-fruit. Looked through a magnifying glass it looks as big as a gourd, But what of that鈥搕he gourd is still a gourd and the lemon only a lemon.鈥�

鈥淵es, I agree鈥揃ut tell me what money should be spent or what viewpoint would make the bitter gourd a mango fruit?

鈥淒on鈥檛 think it is impossible鈥搃t is all easy to the power of yoga,鈥揳s easy as drinking water.鈥�

鈥淲ell it may be so鈥揳s easy as sipping water or coffee as you please. But do think calmly鈥搕ell me what fault I committed鈥揳nd I will correct myself.鈥�

鈥淣o鈥搉o鈥搉o鈥揟he fault is wholly mine. I have owned it: and there is no further appeal. But it seems to have been predestined that it should all happen like this today鈥揵y the itching in your foot to start with and the sneezing in my nose. So saying I felt my nose. It was still smarting. Padma broke out into a loud laugh as she noticed it.

鈥淗e has served you right for sneezing the first thing in the morning,鈥� she said.

鈥淎nd for eight days more I cannot even sneeze鈥搉ot even a half or a quarter sneeze.鈥�

鈥淎nd let that nose never more be guilty of a single sneeze.鈥�

鈥淎nd if you remember the familiar saying that anger is perched on the tip of the nose, well, it is all remedied today鈥揟here is no more fear of that!鈥�

鈥淚 won鈥檛 say that.鈥�

鈥淲hat will make you believe me?鈥�

鈥淕ive it to me in writing.鈥�

鈥淥h yes, certainly. You write it out and I shall sign the declaration.鈥� Padma got up and fetched paper and pen. After spending some time in thought, she started writing. After putting down the address and date at the right hand corner, she wrote down: 鈥溾��.This is the undertaking I give to my wife and partner in life, of my own free will and accord without any compulsion whatsoever. Today is the last occasion. Hereafter鈥搘hatever happens I will never lose my temper.鈥�

鈥淚 say, what is all this? It is very unfair. I who eat all kinds of things, sweet, sour, saltish, pungent鈥撯赌�

鈥淧lease keep silent for a minute. Don鈥檛 interrupt me鈥撯赌� she continued;

鈥淎nd even if I should lapse into anger, the words 鈥榙ead鈥�, 鈥榦bsequies鈥�

鈥淲on鈥檛 you stop it? I swear鈥揵ut absolve me from taking an oath鈥搘on鈥檛 you?鈥�

鈥淗ush,鈥� she said turning to me with her finger on her lip 鈥溾�搒hall never escape my lips. This I swear on your name. If鈥揑 ever break this declaration; for each such occasion, a hundred rupees鈥撯赌�

鈥淰ery exorbitant!鈥�

鈥淪hall be paid by me.鈥� She finished writing and pushed the paper before me for my signature with a chuckle in her voice.

鈥淪ign it鈥� she said. I signed the paper and said鈥撯�淏ut who is to be the witness? No document is valid unless it is attested by a witness.鈥�

鈥淥h yes鈥揑 shall bring in a witness and have it attested.鈥� Saying this she brought in Aruna, and scraping together all the colour that stuck to his dress and mixing it with his spittle, smeared it on the palm of his right hand. She stamped an impression of his palm below the written declaration, and added below the words, 鈥淲itness: Aruna鈥搕he mark of his right palm.鈥� And as if the document required to be carefully preserved, she folded it, and tucked it in her jacket.

I sat up the whole of the next day and repainted the picture 鈥淩adha鈥檚 Forgiveness.鈥� I painted Radha standing in the forest, taking Padma as my model. When I had finished the picture, Padma came鈥搇ooked at the picture and broke out into a loud laugh.

鈥淗ow clever you are!鈥� she said.

鈥淲hy?鈥� I asked.

鈥淵ou have made me Radha all right鈥揃ut you?鈥�

鈥淲hat about me?鈥�

鈥淧oor gentleman鈥揑 suppose it is shameful for you to be holding Radha鈥檚 feet鈥�

鈥淪o you suggest I should become Krishna鈥揹o you?鈥�

鈥淥nly in the picture鈥搕hat is all!鈥�

Something I had mentioned yesterday escaped my mind. But Padma is not the sort to forget such things. She went to the bazaar in the evening and put a bill into my hand on her return.

鈥淥ne pound of butter biscuits: one silver rattle鈥搊ne 鈥楽hanta Apte鈥� or 鈥楤andhan鈥� or 鈥楰angan鈥� sari. Total Rs. 78-12-0 only.鈥� I must be thankful for small mercies. She had allowed me a discount of Rs. 21-4-0 as it was only my first offence!