Though extremely tired, they walked on. It was cold, yet Divya was perspiring under her clothes. Whenever a gust of wind blew in her face, she would shiver, from head to foot. They were in search of shelter, but didn’t know where to find it, and in what form.

Wandering without any clear sense of direction, Dhata and Divya once again found themselves in the prostitutes’ lane. From the terraces light fell on the road below. Under the lamps sat the prostitutes, their hair decked with flowers, their cheeks rouged and eyes lined heavily with kohl. They were trying to attract the attention of passers-by, by calling to them. From some of the terraces music from the veena, flutes and drums could be heard.

In the roadway too stood a number of prostitutes, wearing garlands, their lips red with tambool and their eyes bleary with drink. Some of them pretending to be in the throes of passion were inviting men to join them. Others strolled about in the streets, hanging onto the arms of their customers.

‘This is a brothel area. Let’s get away immediately,’ Dhata whispered into Divya’s ear.

‘Amma, I can’t walk any more. Let’s sit down and take a little rest somewhere,’ Divya replied, showing no embarrassment or fear.

They were passing by a drinking parlour when a drunk called out to them, inviting them to join him. Finding his invitation ignored, the man stepped forward, put his hand on Dhata’s shoulder, and said, ‘Auntie, who is the lucky fellow to whom you are taking this beauty, ignoring all her admirers waiting here?’

Earlier in the evening Divya had felt fear at being accosted by Vrik, the matal, even though she had been sitting in the palanquin and had the bearers to protect her. Now, though unprotected, she spoke fearlessly, ‘Citizen, we are not prostitutes; we have forgotten our way to the inn. We don’t belong here.’

A few more men emerged from the parlour. Just then an old woman, who had come out from a nearby lane, stepped into their midst and raised her arms to protest in a loud voice, ‘What scandalous behaviour is this, citizens of Sagal? You don’t know the difference between ladies of a good family and common prostitutes?’

‘Why are you butting in, Auntie Jaya?’ the drunkard said to the old woman.

‘Am I butting in, you young imp?’ She replied in a hurt tone, raising both her hands in protest. ‘Am I butting in? They are my sister’s daughters who have come from Valka and I’m taking them to my place. Don’t you see, they aren’t used to walking? How weary and tired they look!’

The old woman stroked Divya’s head and Dhata’s back tenderly.

‘If you want to go to prostitutes, why, go ahead, who’s stopping you? Go to Vasa’s. She’s got two new girls from the hills. Why, you’re so drunk, you can’t even keep your eyes open.’ To Divya and Dhata she whispered. ‘Come on, let’s go.’