A little later, Prabuddha Sharma and Dhriti Sharma retired for the night. Vishnu Sharma sat on a low couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin on the palm of his right hand, sunk in deep thought. Vinay Sharma stood near him. On either side of the couch stood two doorkeepers waiting for orders. The remaining servants of the household were sent back to their respective duties.

The gong had been sounded to announce that it was past midnight. Twice a doorkeeper was sent to find out if any information had been extracted from Chhaya and each time he returned with a negative reply. This only further depressed the already weary Vishnu Sharma.

Suddenly the voice of a Greek female guard rang through the corridors: ‘Attention! Attention! One and all! Grandsire, the Chief Justice is coming!’

Vishnu Sharma raised his care-worn face. The Chief Justice was approaching slowly, his hands resting on the shoulders of two attendants, walking with great difficulty. Vishnu Sharma stood up, greeted his father with bowed head, and respectfully offered him a seat.

The old man continued to stand, however, leaning on the shoulders of his attendants.

‘I have heard loud cries coming from one of the rooms. Where is the girl, Chhaya? Let her be brought before me.

At his command, a doorkeeper immediately left the room. The grandsire’s head and limbs were trembling with age, but he continued to stand with the support of the attendants.

The doorkeeper came back, made his obeisance, and said, ‘May Your Honour live long! The maid, Chhaya, is not there.’

‘Not there? What do you mean?’ the grandsire asked in a quavering voice.

‘May Your Honour grant mercy! Chhaya is no longer alive,’ explained the doorkeeper with bowed head.

The grandsire began to breathe rapidly. His knees buckled. Both his attendants put their arms round him and laid him down on the couch.

His breathing was fast and obstructed and he could not speak. Vishnu Sharma, Vinay Sharma and the two attendants bent over him. The old attendant, Vilhan, pillowed the grandsire’s head on his knees.

At a sign from Vilhan, the other attendant ran off and brought water and some strong wine. A few drops of water mixed with wine eased the rattling in the Chief Justice’s throat. Motioning Vishnu Sharma to draw near, the grandsire said, in a weak voice, ‘Son, in your zeal to avenge injustice, you have committed another injustice. This will set off a chain reaction. Son, retaliation and revenge are not justice. You are angry because our daughter has gone. Whose fault was it that she went away? Mine? Yours? Our society with all its rules …’

Once again there was a rattle in his throat and he began to choke. Vilhan put some more drops of water mixed with wine into his mouth. In a voice feebler than before, the grandsire said, ‘Chhaya suffered … because her mother was devoted to her mistress! I wish I would die and thereby atone for this injustice!’ During pauses between gasps for breath, the grandsire said, ‘Son, do not … be angry … with our daughter.’