Divya admitted her fault and apologized, ‘Mother, I am not feeling well. I just came to meet you.’ Tenderly stroking her pupil’s back, Mallika sat down by her side. Time and again, Divya’s eyes turned towards the main gate and the garden path.

Just when the function was about to end, Prithusen came into view. A wave of satisfaction swept over Divya, but thereafter she could not look in that direction. She knew, however, that Prithusen had sat down in one of the back rows. He looked worried and tired. Divya felt the injustice done to him like a stab of pain in her own heart.

At a sign from Devi Mallika, the maids in attendance again placed flagons of wine, cups and betel leaves before the guests. Soon the room began to ring with laughter. But Divya, not being able to participate, felt awkward. She noticed that Prithusen, too, sat disconsolate at one side. He had acknowledged Mallika’s hearty greeting with a faint smile and had remained silent and reserved.

Before the guests dispersed, Mallika proposed a round of the raas, the circular dance performed by Lord Krishna with gopis.¹ Because of Divya’s indisposition, Mallika did not ask her to join in, but she urged Prithusen to participate. She was a great admirer of his nimble footwork. But he begged to be excused and remained seated.

For the performance of the raas it was necessary to make some changes in the seating arrangements. While this was being done, Divya stepped out of the hall for a breath of fresh air. As she passed by Prithusen, she greeted him and enquired after his health. He politely rose from his seat and while answering her query, accompanied her into the garden.

‘My great-grandfather is taking a keen interest in your petition,’ Divya said with feeling. ‘He is probably waiting for the decision of the Council.’

With a vain effort to smile, Prithusen said, ‘I have lodged a petition with the grandsire to hear the verdict from him—the verdict of law—not to know the decision of the Council.’

‘Yes, you are quite right,’ Divya said in a voice full of sympathy.

‘The justice which you had assured me, with a mynah as your witness,’ Prithusen said, in a grave voice, ‘was not the justice of the Republican Council, but of the court of law. Gentle lady, I do not want to be judged by caste, but by the law. The Council is nothing but an arena of debate for vested interests, while the court is the seat of justice itself.’

‘You are perfectly right,’ Divya replied, studying her fingernails.

‘And, my gentle lady,’ Prithusen continued, ‘I shall feel little gratitude for the justice that is meted out to me by the law court at the insistence of the Council. That won’t be justice but an obeisance to the powerful.’

Divya was hurt by Prithusen’s words and by the tone of his utterances. With her head bowed, however, she said, ‘You are quite right in what you say.’