The twinkling of the lights outside lit up the deep dark orchards around, the chill coming in from the window intensified. Rajjo found herself shivering. The chorus of the prayers increased to a crescendo, they were going to wrap up for the night. She zoned out the chants, her mind still in turmoil. Should she choose to stay on, where would this path lead? Why was she compelled to stay? Was she really free to choose? She wished she could cut her brain out and put it in a jar and place it by the windowsill and let something else decide. However, the more she looked at the picture of the Godwoman and her devotees, the more the desire to stay tugged at her heart. Was the choice she made right now her own?

Rajjo took an instant decision to stay. Somehow this Godwoman pulled her. Slowly Rajjo sat down, opened the bedsheet and spread it back on her little cot. The chanting outside stopped. The prayers were silent. As she sat alone by her little window, welcoming the cold mist on her face, she heard the crickets and the silence. She wondered about that picture which drew her to the Godwoman? Perhaps she should wait around and see if the answer presented itself.

March 1991

March was here already, chasing the winter away and gradually leading the skies into the bright summer months. The crops would be ready to harvest soon. It had been over a month since Rajjo had arrived at the ashram.

Just as the winter was fading away, so were the marks on her face and her wounds. She moved around in the familiar compound, spending a lot of time in the courtyard built around a patch of garden with two fruit-laden guava trees. One bore pink guavas and the other white. They seemed like siblings.

For the past month she had lived in the hermitage and been provided with clothes and other basic necessities. No one stared at her healing face or asked questions. She liked being here as no one bothered her when she sat for hours, not moving or twitching. It was bliss. This place had its own rhythm.

Unlike Kuljeet and the other people in the ashram, Rajjo did not pray three to four times a day or read the holy books. She just sat endlessly under the guava trees. However, she had been gently reminded a week ago to decide if she wanted to take on the duties of a sewadar (devotee dedicated to working in the commune) or if she wanted to leave. She was still indecisive. A fly buzzed around her and sat on Rajjo’s nose. Rajjo wanted to swat it, but she did not move. Inaction had been her state of being for the last few weeks. Unexpected and sudden anger flared up inside her that she had allowed herself to sit here, her life suspended and trapped between two beautiful guava trees. Having made up her mind, she straightened herself as she shooed the offending fly away from her nose.