‘I hope you will not mind, but my great-grandfather’s health does not permit him to see you at present,’ Divya said, taking a seat near him.

Prithusen expressed concern for the health of the aged Chief Justice and got up in confusion. He again expressed his satisfaction at the assurance given by the Chief Justice’s great-granddaughter—that justice would not be denied to him. Asking for permission to visit again, he took his leave. As he was about to go, Divya’s grand-uncle, Pandit Vishnu Sharma, and her uncle Prabuddha Sharma entered the reception room. Both looked grave and were deep in conversation.

Prabuddha Sharma greeted the visitor, saying, ‘Prabuddha Sharma offers his salutations.’

Vishnu Sharma, on the other hand, threw a sidelong glance at Prabuddha Sharma, and gave the minimum salutation. ‘Greetings to the visitor,’ he said, and turned away.

Prithusen had already paid his respects. Seeing that the elderly gentlemen looked preoccupied, and not wishing to intrude, he simply acknowledged their greetings and left.

‘You honoured the son of a slave-charioteer with an offering?’ Vishnu Sharma said, addressing Divya. ‘You do not deserve to be a Brahmin but a disciple of the Buddha like your uncle Prabuddha Sharma.’

Divya was crestfallen at the reproachful remark of her grand-uncle, but Prabuddha Sharma retorted to the sarcasm. ‘Father, Prithusen’s father was at one time a slave. Today he is the owner of many slaves. Besides, he is the biggest merchant of Sagal and chief adviser to the President of the Republic. Who is there that can ignore him in Sagal? And Father, Prithusen carries with him not a fan, as slaves do, but a sword! What do you say, Divya? I think he fully deserved to be honoured, dear.’

Vishnu Sharma was agitated. ‘He deserves to be honoured, does he? Simply because he has accumulated wealth? It is because you move in the company of Buddhist monks and the Greeks, because of this pride in wealth,’ Vishnu Sharma’s voice grew sharp, ‘that this son of a slave had the audacity, last night, to compete with the sons of the twice-born Brahmin nobles and to put his shoulder to the palanquin of the Daughter of Saraswati. When Rudradhir tried to prevent him, he pulled out his sword ready to fight. To think that a slave can have the effrontery to draw his sword against a Brahmin! It is such wickedness that reduces the caste system and our dynastic rule to dust.’

‘But, Father,’ replied Prabuddha Sharma, smiling, ‘change comes in the life of man as well as in the status of his dynasty. Even the imperial Mauryas were at one time a family of barbers. Later, the whole of India bowed to them, and the most eminent Brahmin, Chanakya, served as their minister.’