‘Yes, I have been thinking about it long and deeply.’

‘And what have you to say?’

‘I feel frightened, Arya. Self-fulfilment is not for me in this life. My days will be spent in the service of my mistress, for the entertainment of the fortunate well-to-do, in the pursuit of art as a vocation.’

This relapse into indifference and apathy struck at Marish’s heart. He looked away, to avoid meeting her sorrowful eyes, and said, as though to himself, ‘Art! What is art?’

And himself gave the answer, ‘Art is only a means. Art is for life, to serve towards the fulfilment of life. Indifference to life, but paying attention to the means of life; such an attitude will reduce you to being a mere instrument for the satisfaction of others without any chance of a full life for yourself. Should the life of such a person remain deprived of its own fulfilment, which—in the case of a woman—lies in creation? That would be like the life of a slave, which is spent as a tool in the service of others. What dreadful self-deception!’

Anshumala’s head was reeling. She had been thinking incessantly about her problem, and Marish’s logic confused her further. She was not afraid of the advances of dissolute admirers who hungered after her beauty, but Marish’s friendly sympathy sometimes penetrated her resolve and left her defenceless. She had decided to remain adamant and not be shaken in her resolve. Trying to hide her nervousness, she said, ‘What do you mean when you say that the ultimate fulfilment of a woman’s life lies in creation?’

Taken a little aback by the uncharacteristic boldness, Marish looked into her eyes, ‘Lady, women are the vessels of procreation. Being the primeval force of creation, a woman is the obvious centre of the family and of the human community. Man revolves around her as the ox revolves around the oil press.’

Marish’s words brought back to her mind her resounding success at the Festival of Spring in Sagal, and the compliment Marish had paid to her on that occasion. She felt a thrill running through her body. Trying to remain calm, she replied. ‘All that certainly brings fulfilment to a woman’s life. It is perhaps a woman’s natural purpose, but for that fulfilment she pays with her very existence, by becoming an object of enjoyment for man. How can one have fulfilment when one is merely an object of another’s pleasure?’

Her heart began to beat violently, and drops of perspiration broke out on her forehead. Her voice too became bitter. In the dusk deepened by the moist air and the overcast sky her face could not be seen, but in the bitterness of her words Marish sensed her mental anguish and knew that his words had hit home.

He remained lost in thought for some time, then he said, ‘What you say is partly true and partly untrue.’ The seriousness of what he said kept him subdued. ‘Lady, life is a mixture of many contrary elements. With one and the same aim, a man can act in many different ways. Out of love for a woman, and because of her desire for protection, a man wants her to be subservient. He treats her as an object of enjoyment, not by any law of nature, but because of the conventions that regard males as superior. In nature as well as in society, men and women are mutually dependent. By receiving a man’s protection a woman does become dependent, but for the fulfilment of a woman’s life a man’s protection is necessary and so is the support provided by a woman to a man.’