Ramani looks around and now sees orange-red suryavamsi buds glowing on shrubs nearby. She moves quickly, gathering them. When she has enough, the well vanishes.

Dreaming of Kamadeva, Ramani weaves the suryavamsi buds into a garland that gleams with all the colours of the sun. She holds the glowing garland in both hands and waits in the cold dark night. Waits for the man with that laugh to come and claim her.

On the seventh of seven such full-moon nights, Kamadeva sends out golden-red rays to draw her to him. Ramani is just halfway through weaving her suryavamsi garland. She gets up and goes where the rays take her, deep into the heart of the Aranyaka forest, her tread light and silken. The trees themselves take on the hue of the flowers she is holding, alternately golden-yellow and red. She looks around in wonder. There is a long passage of trees right in front of her. At the end of it stands Kamadeva. Ramani’s face turns as red as the trees. She lowers her eyes shyly, but raises them again in a fraction of a second, not wanting to lose sight of him for even that long.

Amused by her intensity, Kamadeva laughs. He flings away the goatskin pouch he has been drinking from and opens his arms for her. Ramani stumbles along the path, rushing but not reaching him, hungering to get close but not being able to reach him … When Kamadeva decides he has played enough, she closes the distance. And stops, just an inch away from him. She can’t move. How can she bring herself to touch the man of her dreams?

Kamadeva understands. He reaches out for her beautiful long hair, braided with mallige flowers, just like a bride’s. At his touch, the flowers fall out and the hair unfurls into a shining black curtain. He steps forward on the fallen mallige, which protestingly crush out their fragrance. Ramani raises her arms, holding out the suryavamsi garland which she must place around his neck to claim him as her own.

Her garland! It is only half-finished. How can she adorn Kamadeva with it? She looks at him and her eyes fill with tears. Kamadeva continues to smile, waiting to see what she does. Ramani looks around desperately. She needs suryavamsi buds to complete her garland. She cannot see where the buds are hiding here. The whole world around her is red-gold.

Ramani looks at Kamadeva in despair, mutely pleading with him to stay where he is. Wrenching herself from his devastating presence, she runs back to find the buds she had so heedlessly let fall when she followed his call.

The world slowly fades to black and brown. The buds in Deyi Baidethi’s garden lie scattered, withered and dry. The garden, once welcoming, is full of thorny shrubs now. She puts down her half-finished garland and looks for the well. It surfaces. She rushes, turns her left ear to it. It takes some time before the water sloshes again. She searches for fresh suryavamsi buds in the waning light of the moon, brings back a lapful and swiftly restarts her garland.