Prithusen had spoken out of frustration, mingled with self-pity. But when Divya burst into tears, his heart was filled with remorse. Holding her in a close embrace, he began to kiss her hair, her tear-stained eyes, her cheeks, consoling her and begging her forgiveness for his harsh words. On her part, Divya was swept away by her desire to soothe his unrest. Oblivious of their separate identities, their hearts merged in a flood of mutual passion.

The moment was, for Divya, the culmination of a long period of distress and despair. Whenever she reflected on her suffering, the words of the physician Cheebuk, the Buddhist monk, would come to her mind, ‘Joy and sorrow are interdependent. They exist only in so far as we give credence to thought and feeling. At the root of sorrow, in every situation, lies desire. The satisfaction of one desire gives birth to another. Real happiness lies not in the satisfaction of desire, but in ridding oneself of it.’ The monk’s sermon now irritated her. It would be a lie to say that the Chief Justice’s verdict in Prithusen’s favour and his promotion to the rank of commander had not elated her for until a few days ago her only wish was the fulfilment of that desire. Any reference to his abilities and his performance would thrill her and make her all the more eager to be near him.

Divya regarded Chhaya’s mother, Dhata, as her own mother and, accordingly, called her ‘Amma’. Chhaya had been Divya’s playmate in childhood and was the same age as Divya, hence her love for Divya knew no bounds. She would put up with Divya’s rebukes, given with or without reason, and would never harbour any hard feelings. At times, when Divya was upset, she would rail at Chhaya and say harsh things, but even then Chhaya would remain by her side. Divya too was fond of Chhaya. A friendly informality existed between the two girls. Divya took her attendant as much for granted as the clothes she wore every day. Bahul, Chhaya’s lover and the chief-slave of the household, had gone away. Of his own will, he had enrolled as a soldier to obtain his freedom. In Divya’s dejection and lassitude, Chhaya felt her own hidden sorrow. The measure of each girl’s suffering was in her capacity to bear and to express it.

Chhaya always sat by Divya’s side, wherever she was. With her hand resting on Divya’s foot or some other part of her body, she would go on talking of this, that and the other to distract Divya’s mind. She would tell Divya about Mahadevi’s constant concern for Divya’s marriage; about the numerous worthy suitors; about Prithusen’s request for Divya’s hand and the grandsire’s reply to it; about the indignant remarks made by Vishnu Sharma and the usually reticent Bhrigu Sharma, in the privacy of their rooms.

Divya felt furious at the disrespect shown towards Prithusen by her family. ‘Let my great-grandfather know, let the whole palace know, that I shall not marry anyone except Prithusen. Arya Prithusen has expressed before the grandsire not only his wish but mine too. This and this alone will satisfy me. There is no question of my marrying anyone else. Only when my great-grandfather knows this, will he pay any serious attention to Prithusen’s proposal. And the marriage must not be delayed. I would like it to take place before the Arya leaves for the battle front.’ She spoke her mind before Chhaya without let or hindrance, knowing that her views would be conveyed to Amma, and through her to the whole household. ‘What then? Let them all know,’ she said to herself.