‘It is the wheel of time, Arya,’ replied Mallika in a dejected voice. ‘Or the will of fate! What can I say? My misfortune or that of Sagal! I am no longer young. The human body has limited capabilities. I have not been able to find a pupil who would carry on my artistic traditions. The public too has lost interest. You are a man with a head on your shoulders. Arya, you know that art thrives on refined and cultivated tastes. Ordinary people find it beyond their understanding. Besides, there are so many reasons. On whom can I throw the blame? It is my ill luck, you might say!’

‘I heard that Madulika was the one who received your special attention after the great-granddaughter of the late Chief Justice. It used to be said that Madulika would take your place and keep you torch burning,’ said Rudradhir, remembering what he had heard about Madulika, a pupil of Mallika.

‘You’re quite right!’ Mallika replied and heaved a deep sigh. ‘Madulika could have kept the tradition alive. After some time, some other girl, more capable than her, could have been found to add to its lustre. But, Arya, Madulika did not have the self-discipline necessary for the pursuit of art. Then perhaps, she was not to blame.’ Devi Mallika said, and fell silent.

Her reticence and sadness piqued the Acharya’s curiosity. He leaned a little closer to her and asked, ‘Did she commit some serious indiscretion?’

Vexed by her memories, Mallika replied, ‘You are a wise person, Arya. You know that art is a demanding vocation. A student can get nowhere without self-denial and self-discipline. At the mercy of an unworthy pupil, art is disgraced and it withers. Fourteen months ago, Commander Prithusen became infatuated with Madulika. He did not have a moment’s rest without her. Madulika began passing her time with him and absenting herself from her rehearsals. In her frenzied state of mind she would not be able to distinguish between harmonies and discords.’

Mallika’s voice became agitated. ‘I chided her. “Madulika,” I said, “infatuation and dedication to your art do not go together.” I told her that she must in no case leave the precincts of the palace. One day, Arya Prithusen came to my palace and challenged my authority over my own pupil. He insulted me in the presence of Madulika, “If the question before Madulika is of becoming your successor so that she may inherit your wealth, I shall give her double your wealth; if she is interested in becoming the Court Dancer, then I have the power to appoint her as such. Who is there in Madra that can flout Prithusen’s wishes?”’

‘What insolence!’ exclaimed the Acharya.

‘There can be no greater insult to art than that,’ Mallika’s voice rose higher. ‘I ordered the doorkeepers to conduct Madulika out of my palace. To think that I had brought her up with my own hands, had taught her the intricacies of music and dance, and then to have to turn her out in that manner … It was as painful to me as separation from Ruchira, the child of my womb! But Arya, Mallika cannot bear any insult to art.’ Her eyes filled with tears.