The women were more expressive. They drew veils as they came in, sat down on the ground, clasped each other by the shoulder, and rocked to and fro in silent embrace for a minute or two. Then they broke into a whine which changed to loud lamentation or beating of breasts till someone stopped them. They blew their noses in the hems of their shirts, wiped their tears with the backs of their hands, sighed, and turned to subjects closer to their hearts: a minute account of Sabhrai’s last hour (followed by more crying). And then, ‘Did Auntie Sabhrai fix her daughter up anywhere? How old is the girl now?’ This lasted ten days. Then the relatives and the visitors departed and the family was left to itself.

Came the first of Phaggan.

In accordance with Sabhrai’s wishes, Shunno swept the Gurudwara, opened the Granth, and got the family together. None of them was looking forward to it because this was an occasion closely associated with Sabhrai and for the first time in the living memory of any one of them, she was missing—and yet mysteriously present. She seemed to pervade the Gurudwara like the incense which rose spirally from the stick and then scattered lazily all over the room.

Buta Singh took Sabhrai’s place in reading the Granth. He had resolved to keep his emotions under control. He read the verse on the month of Phaggan without faltering.

She whose heart is full of love

Is ever in full bloom.

She is in bliss because she hath no love of self.

Only those that love Thee

Conquer self-love.

Come Thou and abide in me.

Many a lovely garment did I wear

But the Master willed not, and

His palace doors were barred to me.

When He beckoned, I went

With garlands and strings of jewels and raiments of finery.

Spake the Guru:

A bride welcomed in the Master’s mansion

Hath found her true Lord and love.

Buta Singh decided to say a few words to his family. ‘Sabhrai has really found her true Lord and love, we . . . .’ He put his head on the Granth and began to sob. The whole family broke down and wept quietly. He gave up the attempt. After a while he proceeded to read the passage for the day:

My eyes are wet as if nectar had dropped with the dew and washed them.

My soul is athrill and full of gratitude.

For the Guru rubbed the touchstone with my heart

And found it was burnished gold.