A month had passed since the infantry and the cavalry of Madra had left for the Tavisha river, under the command of Prithusen. The news that began to pour into the town was that Kendras was no longer advancing. His forces had begun to withdraw towards Darva. The whole town of Sagal was thrilled to hear the news, and Divya more than anyone else. She began to hope that in another month’s time Prithusen would return home, holding aloft the banner of victory. In her imagination she saw scenes of her wedding ceremony. Time passed more quickly now, as she was filled with pride in his victory, praying for Prithusen’s well-being and hoping for an early reunion. Mahadevi felt relieved at heart that with Prithusen away from the town, the girl had finally calmed down.

The second month was soon over. The army of Kendras had been defeated and was now retreating, while Prithusen, in hot pursuit of the enemy, was penetrating deeper and deeper into the territory of Darva. That the territory of the Republic was being extended filled the hearts of the citizens of Sagal with great enthusiasm. Divya was happy and proud that she too had a hand in that victory. She grew more tranquil, content to spend her days just awaiting his return.

She would shut her eyes and recall the night when Prithusen had set out for the battlefield. When she relived the feelings of that night, a wave of excitement would pass through her body. Finding that her despair had turned into victory, she was filled with a sense of achievement and pride. Her heart leapt with joy at the thought that within her she was carrying the presence of Prithusen. As her joy mounted, it turned to restlessness; she wanted Prithusen to come back immediately, fearing that further delay in his return would become a source of shame.

At the end of the fourth month the news came that Prithusen had conquered half the territory of Darva, that Kendras had been killed at his hands with a sword thrust and that Prithusen himself had been wounded in battle. The victorious army was returning home, carrying with it jewels, treasures, herds of horses and cattle, besides two thousand sturdy slaves and beautiful slave-girls. Hearing this news, Divya clasped both her hands to her bosom, and unable to control her tears, covered herself with a silken shawl and lay down in bed.

She began to feel embarrassed at the change that was taking place in her body. Although no one else had noticed or even suspected her condition, Divya, pretending to be unwell, spent most of the time confined to her chamber. Every moment of the day, her soul would call out for Prithusen, ‘Come back soon, Arya! Come back and take care of your Divya, and of that part of yourself which you have committed to her.’

The Harsh Reality

LONG BEFORE SUNRISE THE STREAM OF PEOPLE MOVING DOWN every road and path had become a sea of eager citizens headed for the northern gate of Sagal. A large number of people had passed the night or much of it at the gate itself. In their hands they carried garlands of flowers and in their pockets and uttariyas, flowers and rice-confetti. Under the festooned and garlanded gateway, musicians sat playing auspicious music, accompanied by the beat of kettledrums. Even the trees standing by the city wall and on the northern road were crowded with people bursting with eager curiosity. In their enthusiasm, many had set out along the road to the north, to meet the soldiers returning in triumph.