The rain of fairy tales stopped, and the evening arrived, veiled in a faint hint of color like shyness on one edge of the sky. Birds flew and settled on the branches of the banyan tree, and a flock of mynas, emerging from a hole in the earth some distance away, took flight with newly grown wings, soaring into the sky. Suddenly, they flew back in that direction. Encouraged by the silence, the squirrel on the tree climbed down. Meanwhile, a spider in the cobweb of the guava tree had ensnared many insects in a short time. A jackal, carrying a dead myna chick in its mouth, crossed by, repeatedly glancing back at Haru. They noticed him. How did they notice? No one knows. As the light of the day lingered, a couple of brave travelers from Bajitpur broke through the field, shortening their path along the barely visible line in the grass. Once they crossed the canal in someone's boat, it was the Gaudiya road. There was no need to walk even half a mile to reach the village. Chandi's mother sometimes came this way to collect firewood at noon. The disciple of Jamini Kaviraj took the Gulmohur flowers away once a week. In the months of Kartik and Agrahayan, the snake catcher from Bhingan sometimes came to catch snakes. And no one else ever set foot here. The chances of someone easily discovering Haru here were slim. There were no human settlements here. There was no great need for anyone to come here, and no one wanted to come easily. The villagers loved to be afraid. They used the dense forest and deep solitude on this side of the canal, outside the village, for this purpose. The existence of ghosts and spirits was perhaps only in the timid imaginations of the villagers, but there was no doubt that the place was a kingdom of snakes. Haru's head, with its matted hair and rough skin covered in the scars of spring, burned with a stinging sensation. But he noticed nothing. The world that had been built up over lonely years with the silent unconsciousness of a centuries-old tree vanished in the blink of his eye. Haru stood leaning against the massive trunk of the banyan tree by the canal. The god in the sky looked down at him and frowned. The rain could not be held back for long even by the dense leaves of the banyan tree. Haru got wet watching. The heavy, salty smell of the sea gradually mixed in the air.

A sweet, musty fragrance began to emanate from the thicket nearby. A snake, its body coiled around a branch, lay hidden beneath a canopy of green leaves. As the rainwater soaked its body, it slowly uncoiled and emerged from the thicket. It remained still for a moment, its unblinking eyes fixed on Haru, before vanishing into the hollow of a banyan tree between its legs. Shashi said, "Row the boat that way, Gobardhan, near that Shiuli tree. It can't be landed here." The sky god, with a scornful laugh, shook the horizon. Then the rain poured down heavily. They were returning from the city of Ekshashi. From the boat, he saw a figure standing like a ghost against a tree on the deserted bank of the canal in the dim evening light. Only a madman would stand like that in the land of snakes at this hour. Shashi's surprise and curiosity knew no bounds. Not getting any response to his calls, he told Gobardhan to row the boat closer. Gobardhan initially refused. Who would come there at this time? It was Shashi's mistake. Even if he had seen something, there was no point in getting too close to it; it was better to go home. But Shashi, having passed his medical examination and become a doctor in Kolkata, paid no heed to Gobardhan's objections. He said, "If it's a ghost, we'll catch it and keep it as a pet, Gobardhan, row the boat." The bank of the canal opposite the banyan tree was extremely steep and slippery due to the rain. Gobardhan pushed and pulled the boat towards the side. The river water had risen three hands in twenty-four hours, a distance of seven miles. The current in the canal was also quite strong. Gobardhan stopped the boat by grabbing a branch of the Shiuli tree and said, "Come on board, sir, I'll take you." He lit a lamp, tied the boat to the Shiuli tree, and climbed up. Together, they carefully lowered Haru into the boat. Shashi let out a sigh and said, "Unlock the boat, Gobardhan. And don't touch him or even look at him." Shashi thought, the statement wasn't false. If Haru fell, his whole body would be covered in mud. What greater insult could there be than Gobardhan touching the corpse? It was an accidental death, a release. Whether Gobardhan touched Haru or not, it made no difference.

The sky was still light. The silvery sheen of the water trapped in the hollows around Haru hadn't completely faded. As we approached and saw Haru, Shashi had already realized it. "Well then, let's both go down. Tie the boat to the tree; it'll be difficult if it drifts away. Well, Gobardhan, you go first." Darkness fell. "Gobardhan didn't speak for a long time. In a suppressed voice, he asked, "Is it dead, young master?" "If it were anyone but Haru, Shashi might have smiled to hear Gobardhan grieving for the hair of the man who had died. But having discovered Haru in this state outside the village, Gobardhan said to him in a deeply moved voice, "Who knows who else we might find? How can you burn that smoky corpse?" "Hey Gobardhan, how did our Haru end up here?" "Ah, the hair is burnt off, Gow!" "He's dead. He was struck by lightning." Shashi said, far away, "You don't want to touch him." There was no need to touch him again! Shashi wasn't upset, but had become absent-minded. Haru's death had suddenly struck him, and Shashi felt no small amount of grief. But even deeper than that, it had shaken his affection for life. Death disturbs everyone in its own way. Shashi wasn't like those who mourn the dead at the death of relatives – everyone, known and unknown, near and far, and himself – who see someone die and remember that one day they too will die. Shashi didn't feel that sense of detachment at the cremation ground. Life suddenly seemed to him incredibly precious and enjoyable. It seemed to him that he hadn't been using such a life properly until now. So much of life would be wasted, unutilized, not just his, but everyone's, if they lived absent-mindedly until death. This loss of life is irreparable. A little further on, the canal changed direction, touching the edge of Gaudiya. The village ghats at the bend. Gaudiya is a small village. It doesn't have a significant trade and commerce route. The ghats are nothing special either, just a few steps cut into the bank with a tin roof above the ghats. During the jute season, jute is piled up there and transported to the warehouse of Shashi's brother-in-law, Nandlal, in Bajitpur. Who would rush to Gaudiya in this stormy evening after three or four loads of jute?

Gobordhon was startled to hear his own voice. No other result. On market days in Rasulpur, many boats ply the canal; today, there's no certainty if another boat will be seen in so much time, or even if it will be seen at all. As soon as the boat was launched, it gained speed with the current. Standing on the edge, he suddenly asked with curiosity, 'Tell me, Chhotobabu, is there no release for him?' The proximity of death pained Shashi in this way. Shashi then remembered Haru's words about getting him on the boat. Considering his raised voice as a sign of irritation, Gobordhon did not dare to say anything more. Shashi sat holding the oar. Raising his voice, he said, 'I don't know, Gobordhon, I don't know.' He was hurt. Haru had children, relatives, friends, everyone watching; it was a pathetic accident for him to die alone under a tree, hidden from everyone's eyes! Gobordhon's words made his heart even more sorrowful. Gobordhon's heart was pounding. 'What will happen standing here, Chhotobabu? Let's go to the village.'

'Will you leave him like this, Gobordhon?'

'What else can I do?'

'What if the jackal starts dragging him while we are returning with the villagers?'

Gobordhon said sternly, 'Then what will you do, Chhotobabu?'

'Shout, if anyone comes.' Taking the lamp, Gobordhon left. By now it was evening. Looking at the sky, one might still catch a slight gray hue, but the darkness was rapidly deepening. Shashi thought that if he delayed even fifteen or twenty minutes more, he would not be able to leave Haru near the banyan tree. While traveling by the canal, he always kept looking towards the realm of ghosts and snakes. Today he was looking too. But Haru seemed to him to be a part of the tree trunk. Perhaps, noticing the resemblance of the tree part to the human form, and not understanding the white mystery of Haru's clothes, a little shiver awoke in him. Haru lay there like that. Who knows how many days later, someone would discover his bones, cleaned by the teeth of jackals and the beaks of vultures, just as Panchu discovered Chander-ma! All over his body was rotting, decaying flesh, and bones were protruding in places. In the fists of both hands, a huge dried snake lay like a rope.

The boat gently swayed with the current's rhythm. The rocking motion reached a level of restlessness akin to a living being's unease. Shashi sat up straight on the boat, a craving for a *bidi* stirring within him. But even that small spark of enthusiasm seemed beyond his reach. Darkness gradually enveloped him, thickening around him. The trees on the bank took on a solid, impenetrable form, while the lone boat drifted on the water like a faint shadow. Invisible birds flapped and flew overhead, their wings making a soft *shoo-shoo* sound. Fireflies began to twinkle all around. The ferryman's call rose. Then, for the rest of the year, the ferry would lie idle. Cows, goats, people – whoever pleased could use it; no one came to stop them. Right in front of the ferry, Chandi, Chand's son, sat all day on a wooden box, arranging several packets of red and blue paper-wrapped *bidis* and a few baskets of *nakara* soaked in *rekabi*. Even at this close distance, Haru's face became blurred. Shashi tried to make out his features but failed, and he felt anew the reality that Haru was gone. Who knows what Haru had been thinking at the time of his death! What interruption had suddenly cut through his thoughts and feelings? Shashi said, "Go on, keep rowing, Gobardhan. Let's go to Gowala first." Nita, Sudeb, Banshi – they all seemed to rush towards him. He said, "Tell them I was sitting in the dark, lost in thought. Take the light with you; it will be pitch black by the time you return." The path to Bajitpur, where Haru had gone to find a matchmaker for his daughter, was a shortcut that Shashi had taken. The path had indeed been shortened. The neighborhood was also quite close. Gobardhan was afraid, thinking that Shashi might leave him to guard the boat and go to the village himself. Tying the boat at the ghat, he said, "Will you really put on a *khapar* and leave me with the little master?"

In the melancholic night of the monsoon's end, the faintly colored light of the *kalipora* lamp brought fragments of Haru's life into focus before Shashi's eyes, like visible silhouettes. Only now could Shashi grasp the nature of Haru's family's loss and pain. He understood the extent of the void Haru had left in the world – a void that could only be measured by the standards of these uneducated people.

He couldn't understand Haru's sudden death for a long time. Haru had brought him into your world. He doubted if Haru had ever possessed a place to be left empty like that. Raising the light, everyone crowded around to see Haru. He had already told Gobardhan about the matter. He told Shashi again. Bamboo was cut from Rasik Babu's garden and tied into a bier. Then, placing Haru on the bier, they shouldered it and carried it. After about half an hour, three or four lanterns arrived with seven or eight of Haru's relatives. The silent ghat instantly became noisy. Nita asked, "Will you take him straight to the cremation ground, Chhotobabu?" It would have been less trouble if Haru had been taken straight to the cremation ground. But Haru's daughter Moti has a fever. Even if she came to the cremation ground in the morning, she wouldn't be able to come. Shashi couldn't even think of cremating Haru without showing him to her once. It's doubtful if anyone at home would even think of suppressing the news for a few days so that Moti could know. On her way back from searching for a groom for Moti, Haru met with an accident and died. Perhaps she will rush to the cremation ground tonight in this rainy season with a fever. If you forcefully keep her at home, she might forgive everyone, even fate, but she will not easily forgive Shashi. She will say, "You didn't even let me see my father once before they burned him."

'The road is not wide, but it's unpaved. In the rainy season, there's mud in some places, and in others, dangerous potholes in the loose soil. Carts with bulls do the most damage to the road. After the rains, the mud dries up and looks like it has been plowed beforehand. It's true that the path becomes flat again with the onset of winter, but the raised edges of millions of wounds become so dusty that the soles of your feet sink in. In the months of Falgun and Chaitra, the dust in the air makes the trees on either side look dull. After crossing the bridge, there are only sugarcane fields on both sides of the road for some distance. Then the village begins. The settlement is sparse here. On the south side of the road, amidst a thicket of bushes, several dilapidated houses are soaked in the rain outside.

There, in a house with seven rooms, lives Bagdi, the poorest and youngest of all the village children. Yet, even he knows compassion. The ten-year-old boy has been standing on the bridge since afternoon, longing to catch fish like his father in the water. But Nabीन won't allow it. Day and night, Nabीन's harsh life struggle continues, both in water and on land. His mind has become as weary as his body. He has no time to be upset by Haru's untimely death. Then he says, "This year, Jan Ghosh, fate is everyone's enemy. The boat hasn't been out for three monsoons, and the water has become too shallow." Nabeen lies. He says, "How can I lie while standing in the water? There are no fish in so much water. Can't you see three hands are idle?" Before entering the village, there is a bridge over a canal connected to the river. Nabeen, the boatman, has been standing in the water at the mouth of the current under the bridge since that afternoon. Shashi didn't say it that way on purpose. His own eyes welled up with tears at his own words. Shashi said, "Don't go to Haribol now. Haru hasn't even gone to the cremation ground, he's going home." Nabeen says, "Where are the fish, Ghosh? The water is too much!" He says, "The man was very good. There's no one like him in the world." Natai calls out, "What fish did you catch, boatman?" "It's fever, father, I'll come tomorrow." "Did you get any magur or catfish, Nabeen? If you did, give me one. The boy will cook it tomorrow." He accepted the news of Haru's death calmly. "There won't be water in the boat tomorrow, father." "Huh, there won't be any! It will be submerged, you know." Carrying the corpse, he is walking along the deserted, silent path, giving the only reply to life. Shashi's sadness is not to be dispelled. He used to go ahead of everyone with the light. Natai, Sudeb, and others are talking, but there is no talk, only silence on Shashi's face. If he sees a light on in a house by the roadside, he feels like calling out and getting a response from the people of the house. He stops for a minute and inquires about the well-being of everyone in the house without fail. Without getting news from a family that doesn't bring tears to his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to go towards Haru's house. At the base of the bakul tree at the crossroads, there is a platform made of wood. In the afternoon, there is a government gathering here every day. Shashi lit the light there and lit a bidi. Looking, he saw a doll wrapped in rags lying on the ground under the tree, with dry leaves, both raw and ripe.

Shashi recognized the doll. He had bought it for his daughter as a reward for resting for an hour in Srinath's shop at the Baishakh Mela in Bajitpur. In the afternoon, when the rain stopped, Srinath's daughter had lost the doll while playing here. As he passed by, the settlement became denser. The improved condition of the houses caught his eye. On both sides of the road, two or three branches of side streets were starting to extend towards the neighborhood. Occasionally, banana groves, vegetable gardens, and small bamboo groves appeared on the right. The mango grove seemed like a forest in the darkness. In front of some houses, feeble attempts to plant fragrant jasmine, night-blooming jasmine, and hibiscus were visible. Gradually, one or two pucca verandas were seen. The houses were not large verandas, just two rooms on one side, maybe of brick, the rest were the village's eternal own nests, thatched with straw. From somewhere, a monk had come and taken refuge under a thatch. In front of him was the fire of his hearth. The monk was baking thick bread in the fire. On the thatch on that side, a hair-raisingly thin dog was watching him with its mouth open. Shashi hurried on. His feet repeatedly fell into water-filled potholes! Today, his mind's pace was not right. The village had gathered here. The number of shops was not small. But before the dark night deepened, all the shops were now closed. On the left side of the road, some tin roofs in an empty space. A market sits there sometimes. The path to Kayet neighborhood passes by Srinath Das's grocery store. Haru's house is at the end of this road. After that, there are no more houses. Not vast fields, just fallow land lying there. During the day, they repair the roofs of those householders, and at night, if they get the chance, they sneak into his house. Someone or other has been lying there for six months, a year. At night, the girl will cry over the loss of the doll. In the morning, Bakultala will come to search and will see that the doll is not there. She will not be able to find out who took the doll. After recovering it, she will return to the village and say, 'I have returned from my in-laws' house, sir. It was very good!' A little further on is the market. Shashi pushed the doll a little further towards the base of the trees, took a light, and hurried on. He said, 'Be careful where you step, Nitai, walk slowly.'

Make sure Haru doesn't get his feet caked with mud. What a road! 'Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law is neither crazy nor foolish; she doesn't lust after clay dolls. But after bowing (to the tree under which it was tied), upon raising her head, she sees a huge doll lying right in front of her, and in the blink of an eye, the thought arises, what's surprising about it being the work of a deity, this being his indication. On either side of the narrow path of Kaetpar, mosquitoes were buzzing in the bamboo groves. Behind Yamini Kabiraj's cow shed, three months' worth of accumulated cow dung has rotted and risen up. The jungle of weeds that had grown thick throughout the year in the pond is now submerged under the monsoon's bubbling water, writhing and becoming poisonous. Shashi could only guess that Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law had gone to shake the Bakul tree early in the morning and hadn't brought it back. A little further on, the wailing of Haru's daughter-in-law reached their ears. Bangodars Gopal Das's business is said to be like giving someone a knife in the throat. Actually, he buys and sells property and lends money. That is, he's a broker and a moneylender. It is said that he once even brokered the deal of buying and selling twelve or thirteen living people – matching the daughters-in-law of three old men. That's not relevant now. Two of the three old men have died. Now, if Yamini Kabiraj dies, the whole matter might sink completely into the depths of history. But Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law, whom Shashi calls Sendidi and who deeply loves the childless Shashi, has taken such great care and precaution in keeping her husband alive that there is no possibility of Yamini Kabiraj dying soon. Yamini, however, wants to die. The number of idle people in the village eager to spread the village's scandal is so high that with just a little push and pull, the scandal of the village's daughters-in-law spreads to the horizon. Some believe it, some don't. Those who believe it don't verify the truth or falsehood, nor do those who don't believe it. The question of belief and disbelief depends on people's happiness. Among the village's scandalmongers, Shashi's Sendidi has the most fame. Her name is most often linked with Gopal. People talk about various things. Shashi doesn't believe it. Yamini does. He's a grumpy old man. He is burned by the intense poison of suspicion. If he goes to someone's house in the neighborhood, he cries out in anger or sorrow every now and then.

He doesn't believe the explanation for his wife's elopement with Kasundi. Yet, Shashi's uncle provides a truthful account. If he ever committed any injustice in the past, it's buried in the mix of truth and falsehood, good and bad deeds. Today, no one would disbelieve Shashi's uncle, except for a madman. Old age has affected Yamini's mind. Shashi's character has two distinct aspects. On one hand, he lacks imagination, emotion, and a sense of humor; on the other, he possesses considerable common sense and a strong attachment to wealth. His imaginative side is hidden and silent. Unless one gets extremely close to him, no one would realize that he also harbors a deep, empathetic judgment of life's beauty and its lack thereof. People generally perceive his intelligence, self-control, and calculating nature. Everyone fears and respects Shashi for these qualities, which are necessary for survival in the world. Shashi is Gopal's only son and has three daughters. The eldest daughter's name is Bindyabasini. She is married to Mohan, the eldest son of Shyamacharan Das, the Naib of Barisal. Mohan has a clubfoot. The middle daughter, Bindubasini, is married to Nandalal of Nandalal and Company in the Big Bazaar of Calcutta. Upon meeting Gopal, he curses him, saying, "You have done me a great favor with a single coin, Gopal. You will be ruined, you will be destroyed, your home will become a cremation ground!" Perhaps the rumors about Gopal concerning Yamini Kabiraj's daughter are false, but people don't like Gopal. For a paltry sum of money, he made a young girl like a statue, the daughter of an old, mad Yamini Kabiraj. Gopal Das has shaped this aspect of Shashi's character. Shashi grew up under the rule of such a father. When he went to study medicine in Calcutta, his heart was narrow, his thinking power was weak, and his sense of humor was crude. The narrow, self-centered life of a village household was the limit of his imagination for his future life. During his time in Calcutta, books and friends refined his world of feelings. His friend's name was Kumud, from Barisal, tall and dark-complexioned, with a carefree and roguish nature. Kumud also wrote poems occasionally.

He rarely went to college, preferring to lie in bed in his room at the hostel, reading English novels – Bengali translations, of course – and passionately debating religion, society, God, and women (sixteen and seventeen-year-old girls) with anyone who would listen, borrowing money from Shashi. Shashi, at first, had fallen for Kumud just like the girls; he seemed to come alive when he could lend him money. Kumud initially paid him little attention, but Shashi had won his intimacy by silently enduring much sorrow, humiliation, and resentment. Nandalal was in the jute business. He had come to this area seven or eight years ago with the intention of finding a suitable intermediate village – one with good opportunities for collecting and storing jute from all around and a good system for transporting it. Gopal had taken him to his home, treated him with affection and care like one of the family. Who knows what happened after that – perhaps it was Nandalal's fault, perhaps not – three days later, Gopal's loyal villagers stood with sticks in their hands and forced Nandalal to marry Bindu. Nandalal's servant had fled to Bajitpur overnight. The next day, he arrived with the police to rescue his master! Many could have given Nandalal some punishment if he had wanted it – he dismissed the police with a serious, melancholic face. After that, he went to Calcutta with his new bride and never maintained any contact with Gopal. Anyway, Bindu is probably happy with Nandalal. The villagers don't keep accurate records. Bindu had only come to her father's house once in seven years, and only for three days. The young and old of the village had looked at her with envy – there was no place for a sesame seed on Bindu's adorned body, she looked like a doll. Still, perhaps Bindu is not happy! Nandalal is old now, and he has another wife, and his character is probably not so good. The Gopal villagers, whose married daughters stand in rows with tears in their eyes, think that perhaps Bindu is not happy. They find solace in thinking so. Someone or other might even blurt out what they're thinking. Gopal, upon hearing this, says in a faint voice that it's the age to imitate Laxmi Chhara's group. It was through the influence of this single friend that Shashi suddenly changed.

The fortress within which Gopal had sealed Shashi's mind, Kumud was unable to completely dismantle, but he carved out many windows and doors, letting in the light and air from outside. He taught the mind, emerging from the darkness, to expand in its generosity. At first, Shashi was a little bewildered. Sweating profusely, frothing and puffing up life, had this man done such a grand thing? To know so much, to enjoy so much; science and poetry mingling to create such a complex, such a rich human life? Then, sitting down to practice medicine in the village, he initially felt suffocated. That memorable act of Gopal's. Life in Calcutta had been like the music of a wedding procession, suddenly silenced. Was he to spend the rest of his life here, among these uneducated men and women, muddy ponds, forests, fields, and wilderness? And oh God, there wasn't even a library! Gradually, Shashi's mind calmed. He was, after all, a child of the village, raised amidst the villagers, soaking in the village soil and climate. The very fabric of his heart and mind was rural. The city's imprint on him wasn't something to be erased, but it was merely a print, not a stain. He could maintain the habits of the city as much as possible, discarding the rest. And Kumud, too, gradually, through thought and imagination, was able to console himself with the great hopes and aspirations he had gained from books. Kusum had gone to the ghat. Returning, she placed the water pot down and slowly removed her clothes. Then, she lit the lamp. Her shameless slowness completely enraged Mokshada. Snatching the lamp from Kusum's hand, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a wick from the stove, and lit the lamp. Then, he quickly crossed the yard and collapsed in the dry courtyard – who knows how. In the evening, the lamp in Haru's house was not lit. Haru's wife, Mokshada, Haru's son Paran's wife, Kusum, was very annoyed. Realizing the situation, the household understood. Evening had fallen. There was a wife in the house. Yet, the evening lamp was not lit. Why doesn't the wife, with a rope around her neck, go and set herself on fire? In this remote village, perhaps that spring, with its kokil piano, fragrant breezes, and the cool breeze from the south fan, will never arrive.

Yet, who will bind Shashi's mind? A long life lies ahead, a vast world. Today, sitting beside Kamini in a camp chair, in the rustling breeze filled with the fragrance of swaying bamboo leaves, let her be free, let her life, bound between the two bookends on her lap, remain so for a while. One day, in the red-tiled bungalow amidst the marigold garden, Shashi will watch the dance of the koel from the veranda, her heart, covered by a costly blouse, will throb with light, song, laughter, joy, and elegance. What will be lacking then for Shashi? For a while, no one listens at home. Mokshada shouts with a cracked voice. The boy, upon learning about the matter, cries uncontrollably. In the next room, Bhabhi's dying aunt sits up in bed, wailing, "What happened, hey? O Bhabhi, O Kusum, what happened, hey? O God, will anyone answer me?" In the darkness of the big room, Moti lies awake, straining to hear as much as she can of the matter. Shashi's house is three-quarters of the way along the path to Kayetpara. Haru Ghosh's house is at the very end of the path, under the banyan tree by the canal, where he died that afternoon from a lightning strike. Kusum got up with a start. Then, tucking her sari around her waist, she lifted Mokshada, who was clinging to her empty arms, and placed her down on the veranda in front of the bedroom. The twenty-three-year-old girl has no shortage of strength. Only Kusum remains unshaken. Standing silently for a moment under the veranda, she listens to Mokshada's face. Moti's fever hasn't broken. In the evening, Shashi went to see her. Shashi had no time all day. Kusum's entire world, except for this small house, is bound to her father today for seven years. Once she starts crying, she'll whine and complain, where will they all go then? So, it's not that Kusum always rules the household, as one might think. Rather, she is mostly a harmless coquette. She doesn't always listen when there's an argument; she does her own thing. If she doesn't feel like working, she goes out the window and sits quietly on the mound of fallen tal trees by the pond in the grove. Kusum looks away and says, "Don't be so stubborn, give in, give in. Can't you see the trouble?"

If I were to light a lamp from wood, would I be carrying leaves to chew on? 'Kusum lit the oil lamp in the room. Puffing on his pipe, he had just finished blowing smoke three times when Shashi's voice was heard in the courtyard. He carelessly picked up the heavy water pitcher and poured it on the threshold. He said, 'The fever has lessened, he's sleeping now.' Mokshada says, 'Why a little, mother, quite mad - the lineage of madmen. Wasn't his father mad, that he was tied up with chains for two years?' 'Shall I bring wood and light a lamp? Look, you fool, look, she's about to set the house on fire, look!' 'No one can understand his mood. How much he will tolerate, when he will get angry, no one can quite understand, so everyone is a little on edge.' Moti didn't reply. Kusum said again, 'Hey Moti, are you listening? He's come to see if the evening lamp should be lit or not - what's the matter?' Lowering his voice, Mokshada says, 'I gave you a slap - to the fool.' Mokshada said, 'Is Moti sleeping again? Is that all the response I got?' The neighbors say, 'It seems your daughter-in-law is either a little mad or the mother of a ghost.' Then he brings a burning piece of wood from the kitchen and goes into the bedroom. Mokshada groans with the pain of the blow. Going near the bed, Kusum said, 'Moti has come to see if the evening should be or not. Maybe he will have some rice and lentils in the courtyard. The people of the house will realize his absence by the smell of burning.' 'What is it, daughter-in-law, what is it? Will I set the house on fire?' 'Why will I set fire? I will light the physician's lamp.' Putting the stethoscope to his ear, Shashi examined Moti's chest. In this examination, Moti is very embarrassed and keeps thumping in her chest. Through the stethoscope, that reaches Shashi's ear, 'He says in surprise, holding his breath, who told you, Moti, to breathe loudly, breathe loudly!' - The fool has raised the lamp high, and is looking at Moti's face. Shashi smiled a little, didn't say anything. He has noticed Kusum's simple lies from time to time. Knowing he will be caught, he seems to be telling these lies. It's as if it's a kind of joke for him. He laughs when he calls black white. Going into the room, Shashi asked Moti, 'What is it, are you in pain, Moti?' Moti doesn't know. She guessed, 'My body aches a little, little brother, I have been scolded.'

Kusum said in a trembling voice, "The cold is gone, right, little brother? Mother's chest is shaking with fear, thinking she has caught tuberculosis, Olo Moti, didn't I tell you? Didn't I tell you to sit in the warm air, you'll catch a cold and die?" Mokshoda, squinting, looked towards the kitchen and said, "Listen, father, what false words she speaks, the girl is gone, listen?" Shashi, calming Pisi, came and said, "Little brother has been crying a lot today." From the kitchen, Kusum said, "The medicine has been given, go now. Why are you waking the girl by making a commotion?" "It seems like she has a little cold, Paran's wife. Give her a warm oil massage." "What's wrong with her chest? What's the point of so much crying?" From inside the room, Moti said in a faint voice, "I haven't taken the medicine, mother." In the dim light of the broken lantern, Moti's color seemed to have faded away. Without making a sound, Kusum had come and stood behind her. Shashi said, "Didn't Moti wake up at the sound of your conch shell, Paran's wife?" She sat down in the water chair, glancing inside the room and said, "Paran went and said there was a fever in the afternoon, but now it seems to have increased a lot?" Kusum said, "Little brother is lying, he's a little restless, what fever?" Mokshoda said, "What nonsense are you talking, go to the kitchen, girl." Kusum went to the kitchen without protest. There was no playful smile on her face, nor was there any seriousness. Shashi said, "The medicine that I sent in the morning wasn't given?" Mokshoda said, "I don't know, father, I only see the girl." From the kitchen, Kusum said, "The medicine has been given, go now. Why are you waking the girl by making a commotion?" Shashi went and sat outside for a while. Mokshoda then narrated in detail how she had been pushed. She said, "The girl has pushed me down, father, the girl has caused my death." The nonsense in the lower quarters... For a long time, Mokshoda cried. Mentioning that Haru had died a week ago, she now cries in tune, not repeatedly just wiping her eyes and holding her throat, coming with a voice soaked in the grief of her husband.

She listens to Kusum - it seems she believes everything is true. Buchi listens silently, doesn't say a word; doesn't protest. And in the kitchen, Kusum tells Shashi the songs of the traveling troupe, in a faint, trembling voice, in a long, drawn-out tune. Is Kusum really mad?

The group of young men, with their boisterous laughter, could be called Kusum, it didn't sound unpleasant to hear.

Shashi. How many years has it been since Shashi saw such madness in Kusum. There was a certain sweet rhythm in his illogical words and behavior. "Just come once a day! The girl is suffering from a fever, you should go and see her. How much everyone at home talked about it, little brother. He said, 'Shashi has become our great doctor, he won't come unless we call him.' Who knows what Moti said? - Little brother has become arrogant! 'Did Paran's wife call you today?' Paran's wife said, 'I got angry with little brother. Auntie's younger sister, the one who went to Sylhet that year, I gave her a slap that day' - Shashi took his leave after a while. Haru's house isn't exactly on the way to Kaetpara, but one has to cross a narrow stretch of road, barely three paces wide, through the middle of the eggplant fields on either side, before reaching the main road. Shashi quickly crossed this much and went on, Kusum said from the other side of the eggplant field fence, "Little brother, listen, Shashi, go on ahead, I'll come tomorrow and listen to your nonsense." Shashi laughed and said, "What's wrong with you again?" Kusum said, "The snake won't bite me, little brother, I have no bad luck." Shashi was surprised and said, "What are you doing there? The snake will bite you. Who can say where Kusum goes after coming out of the kitchen?" "Come on. Send a message in the morning sometimes, you know." "Don't forget me either, give me two kisses." "Go home, the rice will burn. Will you come to see Moti tomorrow, little brother?" "Did I say that? Yes, little brother, did I say that? You are a revered person, it is our good fortune to worship you." Basudeb said shyly, "I will deliver Shashi's money to Shashi's house tomorrow, I will go myself." Shashi thought, why not today? He didn't say anything. Basudeb's house is not close. From Srinath's shop, passing by the side of Rajnani Sarkar's brick building, through the winding road like a snake that leads to Bamunpara, at the end of the narrow path that leads through the bushes to the south, through the middle, after walking on foot, in the middle of the field, it gets lost. It hasn't rained for a few days, the rain seems to have stopped this year, but the mud on the road hasn't dried up. Shashi reached Basudeb's house with his shoes in his hand and washed his feet.

Basudeb's youngest son, Bhuuto, barely ten years old, had fallen from a tree and broken both his arms and legs seven or eight days ago. He had since been in a fever, delirious, teetering between life and death. Shashi had asked to send him to the city hospital, but they refused. Bhuuto's mother, wailing and crying, had rushed to the hospital, fearing that taking the boy outside the courtyard would kill him. Shashi, therefore, had been visiting him daily, two or three times a day, to treat him. Bhuuto's mother, Laxmi Mani, was softly crying by his side. Two older sons, two married daughters, and three daughters-in-law were crowded around. The eldest daughter-in-law, a widow, was fanning Bhuuto with a fan. After his mother, perhaps no one loved the mischievous boy more in this house – she was constantly gazing at him with tearful eyes. Seeing Bhuuto's condition, Shashi's face paled. He had his doubts about the boy surviving; yet, seeing him in the afternoon had given him a little hope. He could never have imagined that the situation would come to this. He had wrapped bandages around the boy's entire body. He couldn't move, only twisting his face in discomfort. Shashi's voice, already soft, sounded even softer now – "Could you get some warm cloths, please? Just a little warmth..." Shashi said, "Come on." As they started walking, he said, "How many times did Baba tell you to go to the barber shop, Shashi, and get some money? If you hadn't given me a few rupees for the bananas, I would have been in trouble, Uncle! How much lying I would have had to do to Baba! Baba knows about the money matters, not a single paisa goes missing. Standing in the darkness, Basudeb Bandyopadhyay said, "Shashi? Oh, Baba, I was looking for you. Shashi, see how Bhuuto is doing. His mother has applied mud packs. You should come and see him once." "Who is that young girl, whose shy love has been awakened by seeing a foreign man? She is not Kusum, oh God, she is not Kusum." As Shashi left, Kusum stood in the eggplant field in the darkness and smiled slightly. There was a little light near the top of the tree in front of her. Kusum knew the moon would rise. The moon would rise, and at the first sign of it rising, Kusum seemed to hear it. Seeing the foreign man, the maiden's first youth was as shy as the moon. "It's not a lie, it's the truth, little brother!"

The widow Boudi brought a torch to Malsa. Folding a kerosene lamp in a cone, she began to burn it on the chest of the ghost as per Shashi's instructions. Shashi gave her an injection and waited for a while. He repeatedly looked into her eyes, nodded, and then silently got up. Everyone who had been holding their breath until then, at the sign of Shashi getting up, their collective tears burst forth all at once. Sitting on a bamboo bench in front of Srinath Das's grocery store, some people were gossiping. Perhaps they hadn't seen Shashi when he left with Basudeb because of the mosquitoes in the story. Now, seeing him, Srinath called out, "Come, sit down, young sir, let me see the wound, young sir, sit down." "Really? The boy didn't survive, I suppose? Well, let me tell you, Shashi, the day the boy fell and got hurt, it was an inauspicious day. Hearing the news, my heart was struck. I went home and saw the tragedy – what I had feared happened. The boy also fell, and the barbell was destroyed! People say, when misfortune strikes, it comes in waves. When misfortune is leaving, if a thorn pricks your foot, it will make you jump and call out. The day the crocodile of the canal took the eldest son of the new district, it was also an inauspicious day, and that day too, the boy went into the canal, and the misfortune left immediately – if the crocodile doesn't come to the canal, will it come? What could Shashi say? He remained serious. Then, finding a way out, he went outside. He walked down the path, shoes in hand. At the end of the path, he could still hear the sound of crying. Not only the crocodile of the canal, but also the ghost's words came to him. Then the discussions of the market monks, the market people, the difference between past and present, the abduction of women, the scandal of the daughter of the full Taluqdar, Sujan Das, the head clerk of the foreigner's village, all these things. Has Shashi risen so high that these rural matters do not interest him, that he listens silently with calm indifference? That is not the case. With only half his mind, he was thinking about how amazing it is that so many people's thoughts are so similar. No one is unique, no one has originality, the strings of their minds are tied in the same tune. Happiness and sorrow are the same, empathy is the same, fear and superstition are the same, no one is so small or so big in terms of baseness and generosity.

Panchanan, the zamindar's head clerk, Kirti Niyogi, the pensioned head peon, Shibnarayan Gay's Bengali school teacher, the prosperous farming and trading ventures – their minds, though seemingly different, were molded in a similar way. Only Bhujangdhar seemed different; in Bajitpur, he was the head clerk of a lawyer and had come to prison for two years due to a financial scandal. Bhujangdhar didn't say much, his small, cunning eyes darted around restlessly, as if he was searching for something, something secret and profound. Kirti Niyogi, with the glistening coins on his head, which used to be covered by his yellow turban for so long, now smiled to see the large, potato-like lump on top of the coins. Srinath's widowed daughter-in-law, in a fit of madness, rushed forward and blocked Shashi's path, saying, "No, you cannot go, Shashi! Save my ghost!"

Everyone respectfully bowed and sat down. Panchanan asked, "Why have you suddenly returned, Pandit Babu?" Vidya Yadab wasn't particularly learned, nor was he renowned as a scholar, but he was famous for his religious and supernatural powers. He was a householder yogi, a worldly ascetic. Those who had the right to touch him would take the dust from his feet, and others would prostrate themselves. No one knew how many stages of spiritual practice Yadab had crossed; those with ecstatic devotion would directly claim he had attained enlightenment. Yadab himself neither admitted nor denied anything. Yadab lived in a small, single-story house between Jamini Kavi Raj's house and Shashi's, on the way to Kayetpara. There wasn't a house in the area as old and dilapidated as this one. A part of the house had collapsed. There was probably a wall around it once. Now, moss-covered black bricks were scattered around. If Yadab hadn't lived there, the house would have been known as a haunted house long ago. Yadab had no one in his household except his wife. Due to his eccentric nature, the villagers called Yadab's wife "Pagal Didi" (mad sister). Yadab laughed at this. This was his way of accepting the ecstatic devotion! He inquired about everyone's well-being one by one. He expressed his sorrow at the news of Bhuto's death, saying, "Ah!" but he wasn't particularly disturbed. For him, life and death were the same. He wouldn't be disturbed even by the death of a fierce boy.

Yet, Shashi felt that Yadab should have been a little more hurt by the general sentiment! Deaf to the whispers, in a family now...

The dim light of the kerosene lamp in Shrinath's shop doesn't illuminate the wares displayed. A sense of prosperity seems to pervade the items arranged on the shelves. Small square wooden crates hold rice, lentils, a sack of flour, a glass jar filled with oil, two baskets of puffed rice and muri, a pack of matches with a deer painted on it, and on one side, a tin of turmeric with round, pearl-like sagu and barley – all under the watchful eyes of Bhujangdhar, Shrinath's small, square, and seemingly insignificant seat for sitting and keeping money. People rush by with lamps in their hands, some even without, while one or two customers arrive at Shrinath's. He informs the newly arrived customer of Bhuto's death. No, they haven't forgotten Bhuto, whatever the topic of discussion. Yadab has brought grapes in a bag. Upon opening it, half the fruit has already been crushed under pressure. The bag also contained a shirt, two pieces of cloth, and towels, all soaked in grape juice. Yadab laughs helplessly. Pagoldidi says, "Look at the old man's wisdom, why did he bring fruits in a bag? Couldn't he have opened the bag and tied them separately?" Pagoldidi also laughs, her face wrinkling into a thousand lines. Shashi silently watches Pagoldidi's face as she eats the grapes. He sees the lines as etched marks of time – a symbolic history. What was Pagoldidi's life like in her youth? Shashi wasn't born then. Yadab said, "All scientists who don't know astronomy are ignorant, Shashi. Where can one find knowledge without understanding the basics?" Just as you are all quacks of the past, so are all the traditional healers – blind and sightless. If you make medicine by squeezing the sap from leaves, where does the medicine's power come from in the leaves themselves? Those who know astronomy don't search for roots and leaves, Shashi. They take a piece of eighty-pound glass, concentrate the sun's rays into a potent medicine, and inject it into the patient's body – instant cure. What good is it to read thick books and learn to wield knives and scalpels? No teeth in his mouth, sunken cheeks, white hair – Pagoldidi looks even older than Yadab. Pagoldidi's back is also slightly hunched.

Yet, with a frail life clinging to a withered, decrepit body, Pagoldidi continuously laughs, her face a picture of folly – this dilapidated house, this village of Gowadia filled with ruins, her old age-stricken life here, all seem comical to her – Pagoldidi, comical amidst the thick scent of impending death. Shashi rages within. Even with the unyielding customs of the village folk deeply ingrained in her, she cannot diminish her devotion to Yadab, and thus, even without giving in, she cannot argue. Yadab, standing in front of the house, says, 'I've brought grapes from Kolkata, have two, Shashi –' Shashi, despite the contradictory criticism in her mouth, cannot deny Yadab's affection, nor can she claim to have no taste for grapes, for Yadab possesses both affection and aversion in equal measure. Yadab goes inside with her. 'The pile of broken parts of the house in the courtyard, behind it, the abandoned well of the Sahas, ten years old. Yadab taps the worn, heavy wooden door frame. From inside, Pagoldidi opens the door, responding, 'Why have you returned today? Is Shashi here too? Come in, come in.' While walking, Yadab says, 'You are a doctor, Shashi, you've abandoned ancient medicine for foreign knowledge, you cut, tear, and stitch up dead people to make them live again – what do you make of it? Is there truly nothing in your medical science?' Shashi sits down, stroking her chin, and says, 'Don't you know that there's a difference between a big house and a small one? Why didn't you come when I called? I put on the sari, tied my hair, and sat up nicely for you.' Yadab walks on, tapping his stick. Shashi knows the reason for this loud tapping of the stick. Does Yadab fear death? For him, life and death have become equal. Or is it merely the fear of being bitten by a snake? Shashi said, 'Listen, Pandit Babu, – medicine wasn't created just for someone's whim. Thousands of years of scientific experimentation have led to all these discoveries, otherwise, the world's most learned people –' Shashi said, 'Let's go.' Pagoldidi's arranged home. The scattered utensils are arranged, the faces of the pots and pans are covered, the cleanliness of her body is evident in the wooden chest, the flame of the oil lamp is bright. There is still a faint smell of incense and peace – everything here is peaceful. A gentle, soothing tranquility pervades the room. The innocence of this room's atmosphere can be inhaled. It is not the oppressive silence that prevails in the broken courtyard. It is as if the fiery cries of human suffering have not entered this room for ages.

No one has ever lived in this room, it seems, with any real joy – it's as if the room itself has been put to sleep by a lifetime of slumber. I feel quite at ease with Shashir. He is a doctor, and his day is spent with the injured and the sick – a day filled with earthy reality – and in this old, creaking house, he finds a sense of peace, like sitting in a deserted temple at dusk. It's not just today; his mind seems to relax whenever he comes here. Yet, he doesn't perceive any particular attraction to this place. When he comes here, he can't even understand if he has any anger or dissatisfaction. The sorrow that slowly seeps in when he comes here blends so seamlessly into his day-to-day life outside this room that he doesn't even realize he's sad. How was Pagal Didi when she was well, with the glow of youth on her drawn skin? Could he even recognize her now by the lines on her face? Haru Ghosh died tragically under a banyan tree by the canal while going to see Moti's pot for Bangodar's ceremony. Aren't there enough grooms in the village? Haru had high hopes. Haru studied in school as a child, and as he grew up, he became a gentleman. Even after becoming poor, his mind didn't change much. The village's secret society teased Gaudia about it. Especially Natai. Natai is well-off, and his manners are quite gentlemanly, yet Haru doesn't care for him. Natai has a nephew, named Sudeb. Sudeb has a large house and some English and Bengali education, and he's only about thirty-six years old. It's not that Natai hasn't tried hard to arrange Moti's marriage with Sudeb. Haru didn't agree. Haru went to see the matriculate boy in Bajitpur and died prematurely. Haru is no more, and his son, Paran, is neither clever nor foolish like his father. The village's secret society has become a little busy again with Moti's marriage. They explain a lot to Paran. They say it's best for a village girl to stay in the village. She will be happy if she is given to a known home. They aren't even talking about giving her to the milkman's house, let alone Sudeb's house. Why are you hesitating, tell us, Paran? The boy from Bajitpur has passed away. Moti's fever has also gone down.

In the early days of the monsoon, he had caught malaria. He had been well for a few days, but then the fever returned with chills. Shashi's expensive quinine couldn't completely stop the fever. This time, after massaging him several times and giving him medicine, Shashi assured him that the fever wouldn't come back. It didn't seem like Moti had suffered much from the fever. Before catching malaria, he had suddenly started gaining weight. This had stopped occasionally with the fever. It would have been a great pity if Moti's beautiful build had been covered in fat. Moti's marriage to Sudeb? The idea didn't appeal to Paran. The thought of Moti, with her tender, juicy, fruit-like complexion and her pure, spotless face like an idol, being touched by him? He couldn't clearly express this to others. Reluctantly, he said that he wouldn't object if Shashi stayed in the house. They didn't like Shashi's suggestion. Nita laughed and said, "Chhotobabu is a good man. But to consider Chhotobabu as superior and call him 'Muru' in one's own society? To call him 'Par' in family matters?" Paran didn't like this. In the end, it's impossible to say which side's preference prevailed. But after Haru's sudden death, Paran had become very strong-willed. Instead of creating conflict, he had brought the disease into the house. Now, Shashi injects Moti once a week. After arranging for the patients who come to the house in the morning, he goes to Haru Ghosh's house with his black bag. It was probably evening when he arrived. Someone said, "Chhotobabu, please come in, won't you?"

He said, "Has the fever come back? Let me see, Moti." Shashi was surprised not to see Kusum. The shadows of the inner rooms of the east wing had shrunk within the house. With every moment, listening to Paran's words, Shashi hoped that Kusum would suddenly come out of that inner room, accumulating a deep, dark shadow in her eyes, and stand at one end of this gathering of relatives, just like before. The entire courtyard was filled with sunlight. Seeing Moti's pale, dry face, Shashi smiled and said, "I've given it to you so many times, but you're still afraid, Moti? Whose hand will you take today?" Rubbing her arm with spirit, Moti's skin became dirty. Shashi said, "You dirty thing, Moti, can't you even apply soap to your body?"

For a while, the problem of Moti's marriage is overshadowed by the harsh reality of Mokshoda's words. The possibility of it resurfacing today, with the culprit dog's bone lying discarded in the courtyard after being thrown through the open kitchen door, seems unlikely. How would Shashi know that Kusum, upon hearing the commotion, had picked up the pot and walked towards the ghat? As Paran finished speaking, Kusum, with damp clothes, left wet footprints in the courtyard's sun before disappearing into the shadow of the veranda. After the pungent smell of burnt lentils from the kitchen filled the air, she did not emerge again. Shashi sat on the cot, receiving an injection. Paran said, "There's some advice, little brother. The matter is related to Moti's marriage—" Shashi frowned and lit a beedi. At the boy's signal, Mokshoda came closer.

To sustain this life, one must consume Yamini's original and genuine Mahakapiladi Boti. Preparing this Boti requires three nights. It can never be prepared in advance because the sun's rays attract and drain the potency of this powerful medicine if left prepared. Therefore, even though life is revived in a dead body by Yamini's Makardhwaja's energy, the lack of Mahakapiladi Boti means that the life force, which always clings, is not sustained. But is it the fault of Yamini? Or the patient's fate? The Mahakapiladi Boti is not prepared. If we couldn't save the patient, what will we feed him for three days? Half of the wood from the pyre where the uncle will be burned is already arranged in his room. The uncle still smells the jute from the bundles of jute sticks piled in the corner of the room; Paran will wipe the uncle's face with a jute stick. Half of the uncle's hair has fallen out, and it's impossible to tell if there's any flesh beneath his red skin. The uncle will still live. Kusum says nothing more. Shashi tries to reason with her, saying that Sudeb is not a good man and doesn't respect Moti. Who knows if Kusum understands—she sits like a motionless statue, her head bowed slightly under Mokshoda's stern gaze. As Shashi gets up to leave, she opens her mouth again. She says, "Go see the uncle, little brother, the old man is crying." Shashi feels a little ashamed. He often forgets to visit the dying uncle.

The Aunt's Death It was so certain that there was nothing left to be done for her. So, did Shashi forget that Aunt was still alive? Quietly, she tells Shashi, "Oh, father, Shashi, give the medicine after looking at the book, give expensive medicine. Don't worry about the cost, father, I will cover the cost of the medicine." If Shashi's assurance is true, then Moti has been free from malaria this year, just like last year. Meanwhile, Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law, whom Shashi calls 'Sen Didi', has a fever. She says, "I will give you everything I have, please treat me well." Still, Shashi often forgets that Aunt is alive. Every time she gives the injection, Shashi tells Moti, "You won't have a fever anymore, Moti." Kusum says, "She has passed away." Who has ever seen Yamini give a moment's life to the dead? Still, people believe it. It's Aunt's merit that one or two people are saved. No, many! Gopal didn't get angry, he said, "I can't understand what's wrong with you these days, Shashi. When I say something for your own good, you argue with me these days. You haven't yet learned how carefully one has to behave in society." This is the time for your rise, if a bad name sticks to you now - do I have to tell you that? If you take on the responsibility of treatment, won't people say that you are a boy, why do you have so much headache? Everyone has daughters in their homes, who will call you after that?" Gopal is pleased with Shashi's silence. Conquering a suitable child is the greatest victory in the world. Nowadays, conflicts with Shashi over various small and large matters were inevitable, not quarrels and disputes, but arguments and disagreements, opposition to orders and disobedience. Today, however, Shashi has understood that in worldly wisdom, she is much more immature than her father, Gopal can still control her. Shashi was getting angry. But fear of this man of childhood and adolescence has stood firm in her culture, she lowered her eyes under Gopal's sharp, unwavering gaze. Gopal said again, "It is not Yamini Khura's wish for you to go to their house." Yamini Kabiraj was not happy to see Shashi. She was then teaching two students the preparation of medicines in her main house, and the decoction was simmering on the roof tiles next door, the smell had filled the surroundings. Seeing Shashi, Yamini took off her glasses and said, "What do you think, Shashi? Sit down."

Yamini Kobi's daughter-in-law, but she never takes her husband's medicine. She has always recovered without treatment, but this time, with a fever, she sent for Shashi. Gopal said many more things, and Shashi listened silently. Seeing the stern expression on his face, Gopal stopped, thinking it better not to say anything more. Gopal was at home then. Shashi told him, "I'm leaving," and then forbade Shashi to go. Gopal said these words? Shashi was startled with shame. In a soft voice, he said, "These are your own words, father." After eating, Shashi went to Yamini Kobi's house. Gopal said, "When will you gain sense, I don't know, Shashi." Shashi also couldn't figure it out. He remained silent. Then Gopal said, "Yamini Khuro is a very big quack, do you understand the implication of calling him?" Shashi said, "Why, why wouldn't I go?"

"Young women, I hear all sorts of abuses," Shashi said, "No, sir." Sendidi couldn't open her eyes, tears were flowing from the corners. Shashi sat on the bed, checked Sendidi's body temperature, and couldn't figure out what to do. Yamini had tried to hide the illness, and perhaps no arrangements for treatment had been made yet. What had happened to her these days? Why didn't Sendidi know? How many days had this foul smell been coming from the blanket? How could she have been lying untreated for so long, and no one was there to even serve her? Shashi couldn't understand anything. The beauty for which the people of the world go mad, the beauty of a wife that a man cannot achieve through penance, Yamini had achieved. In old age, she would have been a slave to her husband. Why this distorted, cruel neglect? Who knows, perhaps extraordinary beauty, like Sita, Helen, and Cleopatra, brings all sorts of untoward incidents. The bright red color of the world has faded and merged with the color of eternity, and all the other vague marks on her body, Shashi recognizes. Shashi's face dried up. Where did Sendidi get this disease in early autumn? In Gaudiya village, in Kolkata city, nowhere in the country or abroad has Shashi seen anyone as beautiful, only because of her beauty, perhaps she has bought this false stigma, what disease has she caught? Hearing Shashi's call, Yamini Kobi's daughter-in-law opened her eyes and looked at him, crying and saying, "You have come so late, Shashi? Am I dying, Shashi?"

I don't know what ails her, she's been unconscious with a fever, and I can't bear the body pain," said Yamini Kabiraj. "Tell me, Shashi, after forty years of practice, is there anyone in these three districts who doesn't know Yamini Kabiraj? Couldn't you even figure out what's wrong with her? I can diagnose it with a single glance. She has malaria." Shashi said, "Thakurda, let's go outside for a moment." Outside, he said, "Couldn't you figure out what ails Sendidi, Thakurda?" "Ailment?" Yamini laughed, "Who told you that? I thought it was just a little fever, didn't I, Kunj? Where is the ailment now?" After a while, Yamini came back, her face heavy, and said, "Are you still sitting there, Shashi? I thought you would have left." Shashi said, "I heard about Sendidi's illness, Thakurda, and came to see her." "It's not malaria, Thakurda, it's spring fever," Shashi said. Sendidi was lying down, very ill, like a corpse. But Shashi went inside, thinking she had called him for something. "Yes, spring fever. Spring fever in autumn!" said Yamini Kabiraj. Who would send the news, who would come to me? I didn't even know about Sendidi. If it were just about managing Sendidi, Shashi might have had time to look around. He remained endangered and embarrassed in the midst of Gopal's advice, admonishments, and restrictions in this house and Yamini's in the other. He couldn't understand the matter well. Sometimes he felt that they didn't respect his treatment, and this was being conveyed to him in this way. But there was no other arrangement for treatment. Whether good or bad, where was the logic in rejecting him completely? Yamini wasn't willing to treat her herself, saying she doesn't take medicine – do they want to kill Sendidi? Why would they want that? Besides, why is Gopal helping Yamini in this shameful madness, what is his interest? Shashi started treating and serving Sendidi with all his might. Other patients couldn't even call him. If anyone in the house had a fever, he would examine and give medicine in the blink of an eye – otherwise, he wouldn't even take the news. He neglected friends and relatives. He didn't go to Haru Ghosh's house unless it was to give an injection for free. Kusum thought, Shashi must be angry.

In Talbon's pond, Moti was picking lotuses, hoping that Chhotobabu would surely come today. She would give Chhotobabu a lotus. But Kusum's anger towards Shashi hadn't subsided. Moti's lotus flowers were used to make vegetables for the kitchen. Shashi went and sat in the room. Jaminī also stood inside the room, wondering what to do. Shashi felt terribly endangered. And sadness. A few days ago, he had gone to Satgaon to see a patient with spring fever. He couldn't save him. He couldn't even try to save him; he was called at the very last moment. Finally, the patient was treated by Satgaon's physician, Bhupaticharan, who was Jaminī's former student. Shashi suddenly remembered that after the patient died, Jaminī had said with a smile, 'The student whom I gave a discharge letter, Shashi will save him - our Shashi?'

Jaminī seemed to be resenting Shashi, acting as if she were hiding a mass of fear and dark thoughts. Shashi sternly said, 'I took charge of Sendidī's treatment, Thakurda. Shhh, shhh, haven't you done anything until today?' Jaminī says, 'Weren't there three marks? I fed them. All the medicines of your Shashi - all the medicines smell like alcohol, not syrup!' No matter how mysterious the matter was, Shashi started fighting with Sendidī's three Yamas alone. He asks Jaminī, 'What happened to the big round medicine, Thakurda?' Shashi angrily says, 'The patient is not mine, Thakurda, I'm leaving. Do whatever you want.' Shashi says fearfully, 'You fed it? You fed the big round medicine?' 'Did I give it to the bookie? Seeing him struggling, I thought, give him your medicine, let him eat it!' 'Does he eat my medicine?' He keeps walking like this. He goes outside the house and stands still, slowing down his pace. He remembers Sendidī's timid, pathetic look, the complete dependence. Shashi turns back again. He says, 'That pill medicine, I gave that medicine seven days ago, didn't you know?' When he came to his senses, Jaminī, the physician's daughter-in-law, says, 'Who is in the room, Shashi? Who are you talking to?' - He can't see with his eyes, his eyes are closed. When Jaminī comes in and hears, she gets agitated, she tells him to leave, she tells him to leave, he will poison me and kill me - go away from this room, go away. 'What if you do? Yes, yes Shashi, what if I do? I don't believe in your alcohol and syrup, father, I'm being treated!'

If this is your spring treatment, then float the pills in water and have the house boy take them! Yamini's face has probably withered with worry in a few days. She blinks and says, "I'm a simple person, what do I know about your medicines, brother? I know nothing." "If you don't know, then why did you give me the medicine? You yourself will kill Thakurda Sen. The tumor is growing, and now you've given me medicine to reduce the swelling?" Yamini says with a pale face, "What did I do? You are the one being treated, I didn't even give you a single pill!" She can't even hold her head up; "From the very beginning, whatever you are doing, Thakurda, if you call the police, you will get ten years in jail." As Yamini leaves, she says, "Will Shashi survive?" Shashi doesn't engage in any more arguments. What's the point of quarreling with this madwoman? Yamini says, "Shashi, give me a medicine, quickly, so that the tumor heals." Shashi immediately becomes suspicious and says, "Have you taken something? My medicine?" Shashi softens a little and says, "You have done very wrong, Thakurda, and shouldn't do this ever again." "Is this the time for quarrels, Thakurda?" As soon as she says this, Yamini loses courage, but still says like a dying person, "Don't come again!" "Who is quarreling, father!" "So, you tried to feed me?" Yamini, now agitated, becomes silent. "No, I don't take my medicine."

"Why, what happened to the betel leaves? The grove will provide betel leaves for everyone in your household today. Did you hear that spring has arrived in the neighborhood?" Mati said with a disbelieving laugh, "What will happen if I take the betel leaves? If my mother is blessed, it will happen, Gopal, it will happen." One day, while returning home in the early morning after spending the night at Sendidi's place, Sen didi saw Mati picking shiuli flowers under the shiuli tree in front of the house. When Mati realized that the shiuli flowers wouldn't fall, Sen didi said, "If you try to pick them, you'll be my son. I love you more than my own son, Shashi." Mati said, "You say such things because you're a woman, you don't believe in gods and deities. Is it true, Gopal?" Shaking the shiuli tree and showering flowers, Shashi asked, "When did you take the betel leaves, Mati?"

"I took them six months ago." "You didn't take them! You'll be in trouble." Hearing this, Mati seemed relieved. "You say things based on your whims." "No, it's true. I believe in gods and deities very much." "What? What are you saying?" "The book will survive." The eggplant plants in front of Haru Ghosh's house are so fresh. Some of the plants even have small eggplants. Looking towards the field behind the big house, a mist is visible in the distance. The distance itself seems smoky, the mist deceptive. Mati feels satisfied. The village looks extraordinarily beautiful in the golden morning light. In fact, Mati knows this nature of their village so well that his eyes and mind cannot find color anywhere without the rainbow in the sky. Who knows whose tender sway of the young kishalay moves in front of his nose, it doesn't move Mati's mind. The mysterious shadow of the palm tree, blending with the whiteness of everything, swims and dives into the deep black water of the palm pond, the red hibiscus flowers clinging to them float up, the flowers of the water lilies on the banks seem to be doing something in the air. Bright white clouds float in the sky, and flocks of wild pigeons. The sal bird suddenly stops while flying. A koel's school sits at a short distance. How many flowers, how much soil, how much dew mixed scent is in the air. Mati has a strong desire to be married to Shashi like the big people.

No work, no chatter, no quarrels, no laziness, everyone in the house is always clean and tidy, speaking sweet words, laughing, playing cards, playing the harmonium, and, most importantly, showering affection on the mistress of the house. Cupping her chin and lifting her bashful face, they say, "Lakshmi, my dear, my gold, aren't you the mistress of the house?" Mati sees nothing, hears nothing, smells nothing. She revels in the solitude of the pond, the sari draped around her waist, enjoying the future. She takes great pleasure in the fact that no one sees her even when she lounges around. If she doesn't do any housework, Kusum scolds her. Mati, lounging by the pond, enjoys her thoughts of the future, blessing Sudeb in her heart to begin. Otherwise, the thought of the future doesn't seem to open up for her. "I speak in your name. If I have said anything in your name, I feel awkward. Yes, yes - yes, I have told the truth three times, God, listen." And Mati thinks, how was Chhotobabu looking at me at the end? What was Chhotobabu thinking while looking at me? Shashi said in surprise, "You're strange, Mati! You're calling me 'Olaoutha' while picking flowers in the morning!" Mati went home as the sun rose. Shashi thought, such a strange nature, she doesn't look strange. Mati now said angrily, "I feel awkward!" Mati smiled faintly, "You say so much." Shashi laughed and said, "You also say things, Mati. Perhaps Paran's wife has learned to speak from you." Mati's face turned pale. Mati wants to leave, how can she argue with Kusum? Kusum doesn't let her go. She quickly grabs Mati's hand. Bringing her face close, she stares with unblinking eyes, biting her words, "Aren't you ashamed? You're a grown-up girl, aren't you ashamed? You don't know how to cook, you're the daughter of a beggar - what are you compared to Chhotobabu? What's your worth? You act coy, that's why Chhotobabu doesn't come anymore." Mati's dreams are endless. She sits alone in a corner of a large room. Her entire body is adorned with shining jewelry, her sari rustling. In the dim light, Mati's sandalwood-scented face is so red. She is taking short, joyful breaths in shame and listening to the commotion of the large household outside the room. Like Shashi's sister, a girl from the neighborhood seems to be thinking about Mati.

A woman as beautiful as Jamini Kobi's daughter-in-law, Moti thought she must be his sister-in-law, and placing the betel leaf tray in front of him, said, "Prepare the betel leaves, brother-in-law. Oh, golden brother-in-law, prepare the betel leaves." Then Moti bit Kumud's hand. Releasing him, he turned the bitten hand around and examined the marks Kumud had left. He said, "Does Shashi hurt you, Moti? That's why you're sitting quietly? Oh dear! Should I call Chhotobabu? He'll examine and give you medicine." Moti and Kumud often quarreled these days. In everyone's absence, Kumud would start teasing Moti by bringing up Shashi's words. Kumud still said, "You know, Moti, Chhotobabu can't sleep at night thinking about you. He sits and chants malas, Moti, Moti, Moti. If you leave with Sudeb, Chhotobabu will drown himself in Talpukur. The group that was hired this time is not from this area. Binodini Opera Party's initial headquarters is in Khas College, Kolkata. Mathura Sa of Bajitpur has business in Kolkata and is traveling back and forth. Some time ago, he hired this group from Kolkata for his son's wedding. Hearing the group's praise from people, Shital Babu had hired them at that time. Yesterday afternoon, the Binodini Opera Party arrived. A large group, with many large wooden boxes. Seeing this, the villagers were happy. The group's owner is B. A. Fel, but everyone was excited to hear that there are two B. A. pass actors in the group. The performance starts on Saptami night. The performance group arrives in the village before that. At the time of hiring, Shital Babu told the owner, "Bring the group a day or two early, Bapu, so that they can rest for a night and relieve the fatigue of the journey and perform well." The Saatganj Kachharibari was cleaned and given to the performers to stay in. Not everyone in the group has mosquito nets, only Kumud has one. His sleep is not disturbed at night. He got up in the morning and came to see Shashi. Shashi couldn't understand, "Prabir, what? Prabir?" Kumud laughed and said, "No, it's me, Prabir." "Didn't you hear the news that the Binodini Opera Party has come to the village and there's a lot of commotion everywhere?" Shashi said in surprise, "You are Kumud?" "Did you come with the performance group, Kumud? Do you perform?" "Uh, it's a performance. It's called an Opera Party." "Theater, right?" "Yes, that's right. Performance is good."

"I see you haven't gone to the forest from the village," he said with a slight smile, a smile that Shashi found rather timid compared to his previous one. "You know, I haven't entered anyone's house for quite some time. Four years. The family atmosphere has captivated me. Are you married?"

Shashi took Kumud to his room. Once inside, he repeated, "You came after so many days, Kumud? It's so surprising to meet you after such a long time!"

Shashi also smiled, "I never thought you would go on a pilgrimage, Kumud."

Then, with a sudden burst of spontaneity, Shashi said, "You'll eat here today, brother, and stay all day."

Shashi was very happy in his mind. Not only had he met Kumud after so long, but Kumud had come of his own accord. Kumud no longer had that absent-minded, innocent boldness. He had forgotten to consider himself distinct from the world, superior to everyone. Shashi had realized this from the very beginning. He had always felt small and insignificant in Kumud's presence. Hearing Kumud's tales of injustice had filled him with envy, thinking, "I don't have that much courage, that much strength of mind, that much fire. My life has been wasted due to the lack of such an extraordinary personality." Today, Kumud's mild discomfort, his forced, abrupt behavior, and the apparent decline of his entire pilgrimage group had somehow diminished him even further in Shashi's eyes. He no longer felt like a friend, let alone a mentor. Shashi was astonished and said, "Come, come in, sit down and tell me everything."

"Could I have imagined it?" Kumud said, "Well."

"Didn't you? Seeing your room, I thought you were married. Who has decorated your room? And who did I see in the courtyard?"

"Why did you join the pilgrimage group?"

"No."

Towards the high earthen mound behind the house, next to the banyan tree. He started walking in that direction. The reward for all the sins he had committed in his life, the account of his transgressions, suddenly presented itself to him in the profound solitude of the banyan tree, in a way he couldn't analyze with human intellect. Perhaps the impartial gods of life, through the morning breeze, the chirping of birds, and the watchful presence of the straight banyan trees, had compensated him for the unjust insults he had received from Shashi's family. Kumud didn't know of any place in the world, other than the inner sanctum of a happy family, where one could be so easily moved to sentiment.

Did Kumud know that this aimless joy was the final act of his death? The veil of decorum was loose in the village, but only for those known to the village. The girls of Shashi's household ate breakfast in the inner quarters in the morning. Kumud, with curious eyes, watched the activities of the sprawling household as much as he could through the open door. After a while, a small boy came and closed the door. Kumud was hurt, thinking, "I wasn't even seeing them! I was just watching what they were all doing together." "She's not a sister, she's a niece – the daughter of the uncle's daughter. There is a sister, a younger one, eight years old, she makes a mess instead of cleaning. Look, her playroom is under my bed, dolls are sleeping in rows there, they'll wake up now, it's time for the milkman to arrive." He gathered his thoughts with a little effort, "A very clever girl, very intelligent. I know if she's studying. She's learning quickly. I'll enroll her in school next year." He changed the subject, "Who was talking about cleaning the house? There's no shortage of people in Bangladesh, one person works and ten eat. There's no shortage of people to clean the house." "Well –" Shashi fixed his eyes on his friend, "I clean my own house myself." Shashi shook his head worriedly, "I'm telling you, it won't happen. God knows. Father doesn't like all this. Otherwise, he would say, the boy has become disobedient after learning to read and write, what will happen to the girl? There's no use in sending them to school – they should be taught at home!" Shashi had to go to the wife of Jamati Goye, the midwife. There was no way to neglect this duty. After feeding his friend moong dal with jaggery and candied lemon peel, Shashi took his leave. Kumud put on his vest and went out. It was difficult to bear the guilt of witnessing the secret vibrations of a family sitting alone in a room in the inner quarters. Reaching the edge of the pond, he suddenly felt as if he had stepped on something as soft as rubber. In the blink of an eye, a soft, yellow object rose from the ground and bit his knee. The tail end tangled around his leg. Kumud, observing the expression on Shashi's face, said, "Explain to him that nowadays, if you don't send girls to school, it won't do." "Explain? To Father? Father is an old-fashioned man." "He bit me once. Maybe it's the same snake. One very early morning, I was bathing in this pond, and suddenly my younger brother came and stood by the edge of the pond and started talking."

At that very moment, the snake bit him here,' - Kusum showed his liver. He probably thought the human heart was located there - he said to Chhotobabu, 'Chhotobabu, you've been bitten by a snake. Just look at Chhotobabu's face!' Even after hearing this, Kumud didn't have the presence of mind to suddenly treat Kusum as an acquaintance. He said, 'Don't snakes have venom?' Kumud was terribly afraid of death. He didn't believe Moti's words until Kusum came and confirmed it. Even after believing it, he tied a handkerchief tightly above his knee, suspiciously saying, 'Call Shashi, Khuki, let him see. If there's venom? You know Shashi, don't you? He lives in your neighborhood - the doctor.' Kumud had committed so many sins in his life, and this was his punishment after a few minutes of extraordinary reward for a little bit of virtue. Kumud grabbed the snake's head and pulled it off his knee. Kusum smiled faintly and said, 'Alright, Khuki, call Chhotobabu.' Kumud didn't like his smile. After that, there was no more conversation as they both left. The palm trees stood silently. A fly buzzed and fell into the palm pond. Who was Chhotobabu? Later, in response to Kusum's question, he briefly replied, 'No one. A friend.' After spending the afternoon talking with his friend, Kumud took his leave. Moti arrived first, somehow wrapping the wet cloth around her dry body. When Kumud asked, Kusum angrily said, 'I see you haven't learned to speak. Are you a gentleman?' 'Chhotobabu is somewhat like you when he comes to us. He comes twice a day.' Seeing the snake, Moti said, 'Oh, that's a water snake. It lives in water. It has no venom.' Kusum couldn't leave for the outing that way. He was late. 'The shift starts early in the morning. Will you go to Shashi?' 'What happened?' - Kumud was curious. 'Nothing happened to you from the snake bite? Snake. Snake. It dried up. It turned to ashes.' 'I will go for sure, Khuki! Definitely going!' He was indifferent to everything. As his sister and wife became busier with the arrival of evening, he became more and more lethargic. Sitting in the kitchen, he tried to start a conversation with Kusum at first.

Kusum, unable to narrate stories, didn't bother with it; she couldn't stand the constant criticism in her mother-in-law's taunts, "Sitting on the dais, puffing on her hookah, I can't stand looking at a man who clings to his wife's sari." However, the feeling of clear displeasure quickly turned into a melancholic detachment of the mind and such a heavy lethargy in her body that she rarely found respite from her anger. Sometimes, Kusum felt burdened by her grown-up son. At fourteen, he had become a man, yet Kusum's body had aged, not her mind. Behind Haru's house stretched the paddy fields up to Satgaon. Crossing the pond, Kumud reached Satgaon's Kachari house through the field. She hoped to see Moti at the pond. But Moti, busy organizing the Jatra listening event, didn't have time to come to the pond. Kusum was upset. She followed all of Moti's commands without question, finishing the day's chores before evening. She was willing to go to Mokshada if forced. But they never asked her to go. Mokshada knew that beforehand. So, she had already arranged it with the old aunt. They would both go to the Jatra listening. When she came home, Mokshada could say that she had no interest in listening to Jatras. What could she do? They had taken Tania with them. They had forcibly taken Tania. "You will go to the Jatra, you will manage the household affairs. What do I know? Why drag me into everything? I am an old woman, burning in my own fire," Kusum said angrily. "Everyone has fire in their life. It's enough to burn while sitting at home. Why make such enmity? I know it will end badly in the end." "Let it go for tomorrow, mother, let it go for tomorrow. We are leaving now, go to the Satras' house. Who will be at home if you leave?" Mokshada perhaps felt a little ashamed. Perhaps she thought that it wasn't right for an old woman to make such a fuss about going to the Jatra. Agreeing to stay at home, she sat silently. Seeing Mokshada wearing a fine cloth, Paran asked, "Are you going to the Jatra listening, mother?" Kusum rushed forward and fell at his feet. "I am going to the Satras' house, father. Judu Pisi has called me once." Paran said, "Why are you wearing a fine cloth if you are going there?" What did Mokshada know?

Whoever is happy, let them be. "No, what's my journey again?" When they arrived at the gathering, there was a delay in the journey starting. A quarrel had already begun over space behind the bamboo screen. Everyone wanted to sit close to the bamboo screen, from the eleven-year-old newly married girl to her fifty-year-old aunt. Kusum was very adept at these things. Pushing and shoving everyone, she wedged herself into a ten-inch gap in the first row near the bamboo screen, and no one could move her from there. Mati had come forward and clung to her back like a thread following the needle of a sewing machine through the gaps in the Sanskrit literature. Pressing against Kusum's back, she ended up sitting on the lap of Charan Dutta's wife. As Charan Dutta's wife started pushing her, Kusum tightly grabbed her waist. After cooking, Kusum fed her husband, then sat down to eat with her sisters-in-law in one plate. Paran ate heartily, but Kusum and Mati couldn't bring themselves to eat rice today. They somehow finished their meal, making a mess. As the light of day faded, their anxiety grew stronger that the journey had already begun. Ordering Mati to get dressed, Kusum picked up the basket. There was no time to go to the pond now. Sitting under the ash-covered guava tree in a corner of the courtyard, Kusum quickly arranged the utensils. She had made arrangements for this convenience that very afternoon. Kusum had filled all the pots and pans with water, carrying them in two trips. Before the twilight was over, she finished all the work. Only those things remained that could be done or not done, it didn't matter. At Kusum's urging, both Paran and Mati had finished their work. After dressing herself, Kusum smiled slightly seeing them. Paran looked like a perfect gentleman in his shirt and dhoti. And Mati looked beautiful in her sari. Kusum envied Mati's slender, youthful body. It seemed as if she would be happy if her own health was that good. She also had a sari with colorful lines, but nowadays the colorful lines on Shashi's dhakis embarrassed Kusum. Turning her face away and rolling her eyes, Kusum said to Charan Dutta's wife, "Why are you pushing the girl? Why are you pushing? It would be better if you gave her your cheek. Move aside, give her space."

Everyone will sit, everyone will watch – isn't this journey for you alone? "No. Mati can't work quickly, you know. Mati will take ten minutes for work that takes one minute. Mati says, 'I'll also lend a hand, Boudi, it will be done quickly, Aunty.' 'Do as I say. It takes you ten hours just to get dressed.' 'Mati likes Kusum so much! Kusum feels so grateful to Mati. Just before the journey starts, Kusum says, 'Look at that Mati, the little boy.' 'I see it.' 'The courtyard is filled and people have gathered under the open sky. Mati felt warm sitting between two stout housewives. Meanwhile, the music starts. A concert – a melody. It feels so exciting to listen to! The anticipation of something enjoyable, then the music stops and the journey begins. Sixteen friends come and start dancing. They wear western skirts. So many people, so much light, so much sound – Mati is intoxicated. Patra is showing Shashi a thick blanket on his shoulder. Mati only saw him when he came and stood in the gathering. Seeing Shital Babu himself calling him and seating him next to him, Mati has no limits of respect for Shashi. Prabir enters in the second scene. After a lengthy welcome speech vowing to punish Arjun, the son-slayer of Gangadevi, according to the rules. The gathering is captivated by seeing Prabir. Smart attire, what a charming young man, how dazzling is his sword. When he speaks, a sigh goes through the gathering and the audience feels completely at ease. The gathering will be held, Prabir's party will be held. It will be a feast. Just like a prince's appearance, so is his wonderful voice. Prabir's beloved Madanmanjari is also in the gathering. Among so many people, it's as if a secluded royal garden, Prabir loves her with such uninhibited, accurate, and emotional voice. Holding hands is prohibited in the journey's gathering. So Prabir doesn't seem to have any difficulty. Only through words, only through acting, he creates such faith in the minds of so many people that when the two dance together, they enter as Jona and the god of fire. Seeing Jona, Mati doubts. 'She must be a ghost, Boudi! Isn't it?' Mati whispers, 'The friends are dressed up, aren't they, Boudi?' Mati says, 'How beautiful she is, Boudi, it seems real!' Mati doesn't answer. He listens.

Kusum and Mati were astonished. Kusum said, "Oh, look! That's the man!" Prabir said, "Kusum laughed a little, 'It seems like he's with you, isn't it?' 'Your head! Be quiet, let me listen.' 'Are you angry?' 'Why are you angry, you foolish girl? Why so much pride? Why are there so many reproaches in your eyes? A cloud has come over your face, and your chest is swelling and swelling. It looks like you haven't slept all night, listening to the play, and now it's everyone's morning.' Not just Shashi and Paran, though. Yamini, the wife of the Korbaj, has reached a dangerous state of illness. Shashi gets up early, takes a bath, and goes to her. Paran's yield from the few bighas of land is immediately counted and brought home. If he's not there himself, half of the juice from the twenty-seven palm trees will be stolen. Paran has not allowed any other trees to be planted this time, except for the palm trees. This time, he himself will extract the palm juice and make jaggery. He has also decided to plant some radishes in the fallow land this time. Shashi has said that radishes grow well if bone meal is applied to the soil. Paran has brought ten ser of jaggery for testing. It has not been applied to the soil yet. Paran has a lot of work to do. Does Mati sometimes come to the Talpukur to write poetry? Don't the lazy hours of the silent afternoon pass for him at home? Who can say! Today, however, he had come to the Talpukur for a special reason. Yesterday, he had lost an earring on the bank of the pond. Yesterday, in the excitement of the play, he didn't pay attention. This morning, while bathing, he touched his ear and realized - Oh no, where is the earring? He hasn't told anyone for fear. In the afternoon, when everyone was sleeping, he quietly came to search. In the afternoon, Kumud came to Shashi's house. Shashi was not at home. Gopal told Kumud that Shashi was at the play. He did not let Kumud cross the boundary of the house. He seated him in the outer room. Gopal then went inside to sleep. Kumud, Kumud of last night, the conqueror of the hearts of a thousand women, considered himself abandoned and friendless and went to the bank of the Talpukur. There, his friend Mati was there. Mati did not find the earring. He found Kumud. Both parties were satisfied! Kumud is not a man of flesh and blood of this world, but a prince of fairy tales, a great hero, a great warrior, a great lover. Yes, Kumud is not of this earth. He trembled in Mati's chest. Kusum, overwhelmed in her mind, thought and said, "Don't be angry, Lakshmichari; why are you angry? You can't say that with your face blooming like that? Blessed are you."

Not silver, not copper, a golden spider. What will become of it? "Can you play chess?" "No, sir." "I am scolding you, you fool. What does this solemnity, this sternness without laughter, signify, friend, in Kusum? I love you, I truly say, I love you with all my heart. Narayan is witness. Witness of my heart—

What are you looking for, Khuki? Will you kill him? Are you beaten a lot at home? 'Don't tell anyone that the spider is lost, Khuki.' 'Ravan.' Kumud laughs. 'I'll bring you a spider tomorrow.' Moti is surprised. Today, they are forbidden from listening to the Jatra. Paran has prohibited it. Listening to Jatra every day? He listened to it once, let it go today, he'll listen again tomorrow. Paran doesn't like them going to listen to the Jatra. There's no reason why he doesn't. They listen to the Jatra and don't sleep until ten o'clock, and Paran gets nowhere. When he goes out in the twilight every day, no one's sleep is disturbed in the house. No one in this house has the habit of looking after his comfort. If there's a need to eat muri instead of rice one day, Paran can't be persuaded. Still, he doesn't want the girls in the house to go and listen to the Jatra. They went to listen to the Jatra for two days in a row. Hearing the sound of the music in the evening, Moti became restless. Prabir will dress up as Lakshman today. Who knows what he'll show today, if Moti could, she would go alone. She went like this two years ago. That's not possible now. Moti is startled to think how big she has become in two years. But what can be done? If the music is played suddenly, it is impossible to stay at home. Whatever I say, Kusum didn't make any arrangements to go and listen to the Jatra. Many girls from the neighborhood will go. Kusum can go with them. But there is more anger and resentment in not going than in going, and stubbornness remains stronger in that. Therefore, Kusum slept through the entire afternoon. When Kumud left with her spider in her pocket, she sat by the pond and thought about this. It's nothing to Prabir to give her a spider. And how many girls has he probably given to? Not many, there are at least one or two girls in the Jatra group, aren't there? Still, Prabir is terribly good to want to give it to her.

Once, Kusum said to her, "No trip, right? Won't you go see the Thakur, Boudi?" "I will buy (sarees)!" Mati thought that Prabir had bought her out before buying the spider. Paran, sitting on the veranda, was thinking about his financial problems. He called out, "Hey, Mati, listen. You won't go? No, different rules for your own time?" Kusum said. She was angry. "Where will you get (sarees)?" Kusum says, "Whether you go or not, I will go." "Why, don't you have a jewelry shop in your house?" "If you go, I will go too." "What business do you have with me? Are you a little boy?" "I won't go then." Paran also knows how to be stubborn sometimes. He came to Mati and said, "What were you saying?" "Go to the stove." The daughters of the Sheetal Babus wear silk blouses, Bombay sarees. The wives and daughters of Bimal Babu, the brother of Sheetal Babu, who lives in Calcutta, also wear shoes. How many women are there in the families of the two brothers! The more money in the family, the more women, the more sins. Mati doesn't know this rule of the family, does she know any rules of the family? She is a naive girl, a foolish girl. Among the neatly arranged and decorated relatives spread out on a clean sheet of about twenty square feet, she felt lost. She couldn't be moved in any way. The Babus are landlords, the Shashis are big people. How many good clothes and expensive jewelry the girls in their houses have. Kusum would suffocate if she sat among them (they wouldn't let her sit in the middle, she would have to sit in a corner like a speck of dust) wearing a heavily lace-trimmed jacket and plain cloth from the weaver's house. Finally, Mati went alone with Paran. Shashi couldn't be found. He was at home. He said, "You have no small hobbies, Mati! But he didn't object to arranging a good place for Mati to sit with them. Rather, he felt special pride in being able to seat Mati behind the net curtain, where the Babus' daughters sat. Paran said, "Everyone in Chhotobabu's house sits with the Babus' daughters. Haven't you seen the net curtain, Mati? The Babus' house is so much for Chhotobabu. If you tell Chhotobabu, he will seat you there." Paran unknowingly admitted defeat in a way. But Kusum is no longer willing to go. Now, after the meal and snacks are over and they are about to leave, the turn will be over?

Kusum said, "Where have you all been? It's better to sleep at home than to sit behind everyone and listen to the Jatra." Bimal Babu's wife, Sudha, asked, "What are you staring at, dear?" Bimal Babu's daughter replied, "She's looking at your glasses, Ma." Kusum suddenly became quiet and said, "I won't go."

"What will Chhotobabu do? Will he arrange a place?" Kusum said, even more angrily, referring to Chhotobabu. The Thakur Puja drums were playing. It was very late for the Pala to start. "Shall we go see Thakur? Come, let's go. We'll listen to a little Jatra on the way." Moti said, "Why don't you go, sister? Why are you delaying?" Paran said, "Tell Chhotobabu – 'Let's go see Thakur.'" Shital Babu's daughter-in-law had been forced to give up her life at the hands of Shashi before the civil surgeon of Bajitpur could arrive last time when she gave birth to a son. What a terrible punishment it was to die in bed! Anyway, the little boy is now sleeping with his eyes closed in the attic next to Jhir. The civil surgeon had done a good deed for the boy; the boy is like Shashi's gift. Shital Babu's daughter-in-law had once asked Moti with curiosity, "Who is Shashi Daaktar to you?" The matter soon became public. Shital Babu and Bimal Babu's daughters were especially displeased with Shashi for trying to insert Haru Ghosh's daughter among them. Those who were with Moti pretended to go inside the house and then sat down elsewhere. Even though they had the opportunity to relax with their limbs spread out, Moti could not relax. He is not so foolish as not to understand the neglect and insult. It pricked at Moti's heart. He was seated in the seat of honor, facing forward, not among the dependents behind. Shital Babu himself had brought the girl and said, "Sit in front. She is Shashi Daaktar's daughter." Yesterday, Shashi Daaktar's daughters had come very well dressed, no matter how much they had tried to be grand. Today, what a sight! Shital Babu and Bimal Babu's daughters had thought about this. They had compared clothes, jewelry, and themselves, and had rubbed and polished themselves. And that girl, if you tried to catch her, was quite clever. Shashi said, "Jewelry shop! Where can I find a jewelry shop?" "There are two goldsmiths, they make jewelry to order. They might make small pieces of jewelry from time to time, but it's not enough to open a shop. Should I buy jewelry?"

Kumud happily said, "It's good? You had to fast for fourteen years, brother. Still, I haven't been able to rescue the bride from Ravana's clutches. If I can just take her back to Ayodhya and make my grandfather king, I'll be saved." Meanwhile, Shashi occasionally goes to the dressing room. Praising Kumud, she says, "You look good, Kumud. Why didn't you go to the Calcutta theatre?" Kumud laughs. "I'll go to Ashokvan to bring the bride back later – there's not much longer to wait for Ravana's death. You should see that scene. By the way, is there a jewelry shop in your village?" "Will you buy? Me? Why would I buy jewelry?" "Oh! No one? Are you going to see the Jatra with someone tonight?" "With whom? I came with my grandfather." "I am the daughter of the Ghosh family – my father is the late Haranchandra Ghosh." "Who is your grandfather? Whose daughter are you?" "No one." At Moti's ear, two earrings dangle. Along with the two moons of the earrings, a single star also dangles. Kumud has put the earrings on her own ears. One of them is brand new, the other is old, tarnished. This is a problem! As foolish as Moti is, is she really that foolish? Did Moti really not notice this little thing? If everyone sees the new earring, what will they say? What explanation will she give? The prince, in his wisdom, put the earring on her ear himself by the pond in the afternoon. Once they hear that, they won't keep her at home anymore. Kumud has solved this problem. Before going home (how far away Moti's home is!), she will take off both earrings. After applying tamarind paste at night and scrubbing with soda in the morning, both earrings will look like old, cleaned earrings. If asked, Moti will say, "I cleaned them. With tamarind and soda." Moti will say this! This truth. But Moti is already on her way. She didn't feel like listening to the Jatra today. She is always full of joy for no reason, finding intense happiness in any trivial thing. The enthusiasm of the daughters of Shital Babu and Bimal Babu's family for listening to Jatras has destroyed her enthusiasm. Moti returned home as if she had stolen something. Still, how beautiful those girls are! Each one is like a picture. Where Haru Ghosh died in a lightning strike, that place is a nest of poisonous snakes. The snakes of Talbon near Haru Ghosh's house have no poison. No poison?

The snake that bit Kumud didn't have venom. It was a water snake, a harmless snake. But are all snakes in Talbon water snakes? Are all snakes harmless? Who can say! Moti doesn't know. Finally, she has to admit that she might have died if bitten by a different snake. The doubt gnaws at Shashi's mind. She thinks to herself that the fellow is crazy, what kind of talk is this, does this ever happen? Still, she keeps thinking that she will try to find out about the jewelry shop in Bajitpur during the last two months of Kushal. Before returning home at twelve o'clock at night, she invites Kumud to dinner there as a sort of penance for doing this other thing. Shashi thinks that Goynar's son is a created being, there is no work in the world that he doesn't do, – it's as if he gets pleasure from doing these things. But why inquire about the jewelry shop? Shashi also thinks that she should find out if anything happened at any jewelry shop in Bajitpur while Binodini was acting there. Shashi is a little disturbed. 'Why did Kumud ask about the jewelry shop? He suddenly asked after saying one thing. What is he thinking?' She says to Paran, 'Why don't you take me home now, Paran? How many more nights will I stay awake?' Paran is also sleepy. 'What will I go!' Moti is astonished to see Kumud's intelligence. 'Would I have died if bitten by another snake? What would you have done if I died?' 'What would I have done? What do I know what I would have done?' A naive girl. A completely naive girl. But Moti knows everything in her mind. What doesn't she know? Moti knows that if Kumud had died of a snake bite that day, she wouldn't have done anything. She knows two things, that Kumud would have cried a little if she had died. Moti knows so much! Why pretend ignorance by giving that middle answer, if she doesn't say the truth that she wouldn't have done anything, or the lie that she would have cried a little? Still, no matter how much we assume Moti is a naive girl, the passage of time between day and night is the most sluggish at noon. There is no end to noon. It is not known how much the sun in the sky moves and how much sunlight falls on them. They get up and start walking towards the hill. On the other side, there is a dense network of shadows. Who knows where Moti learned all this! She must have learned it from herself – like learning to speak, dress, and eat rice. No one teaches these things. Who will teach them?

And then Kumud asks Mati various questions. Not like a child's questions. Her own things, her family matters, her village. Mati answers all the questions with interest. Sometimes asks back. Sometimes, on her own, tells Kumud many unnecessary, irrelevant things. Her simple mind never becomes cunning. Her dependence never breaks. No, Mati has no such thoughts. She knows nothing, understands nothing, everything in the world is new to her, beyond her experience. She doesn't know what's appropriate or inappropriate to hold Kumud's hand. Kumud will understand all that. The prince, the wise one, will understand. Mati doesn't even have much shyness. But that sudden, brief smile, lowering her eyes, it's nothing. 'What if I die now?' Kumud says. 'Then I - what if I die now?' There's no need to talk about death. Gopal has almost stopped talking to the boy these days. Not because Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law has recovered, but for another reason. It should be understood as such, like any ordinary person. That's what happened. Shashi has become quite arrogant. It's expensive to call the government doctor from Bajitpur. Many people call Shashi instead. For Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law's treatment, Shashi has stopped going to a place far away for several days, even sending her back to the Kal tree in Nandanpur, three miles away. At this time, Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law was on her deathbed. Incited by Gopal, Yamini tried to stop Shashi's comings and goings by quarreling and insulting him, but failed. Unable to send the patient to a distant village for treatment, Gopal has become enraged with the boy. Yet they didn't have the courage to confront him. They both started fearing Shashi. This is a sign of guilt. It seems like everyone understands, knows everything. Even trying to dig a hole to avoid the snake rising up, people hesitate. The moon rises, the sun rises. The world is forever God's kingdom. This deeply ingrained human nature won't change easily. Even after committing a thousand sins. 'What do you want to hear? Oh, father, what's on your mind? Would you be happy if I left everything and went to Kashi?' The Guru was saying this. He was saying, 'Why, Gopal, come along this time. I was thinking of letting Shashi settle things a bit, if I suddenly leave everything, how will he manage? But if you start like this, how can I stay even one more day?'

After Jamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law recovered, Gopal said to Shashi with dangerous seriousness, "Now focus on your work, Shashi. Jamini doesn't want you going to their house." He said, "Will Jamini Kabiraj ever benefit so much from this that she would do so much for her? What kind of native intelligence is it to destroy oneself for the benefit of others, Bapu? Your mother isn't alive, Bapu. She passed away early because of a good forehead. Whatever you have achieved – all of it is yours; you will be ruined, Shashi." "How will you manage like this?" Gopal had said. "Won't you go when people call? Won't you turn away patients?" "Jamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law has recovered. Thank God, Jamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law's forehead, Shashi's glory." "What if my mother had such an illness?" – Shashi had said. Who knows why she said, "Thakurda should be handed over to the police." "Disaster! What is Shashi saying?" Gopal was speechless. "What have you done? You've smeared lime on your face. Don't you hear what everyone is saying – I hear it. Why do you care so much about Jamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law's illness? You're a doctor, once you go, prescribe medicine, and leave. People will say that you were nothing before if you stay by the patient day and night." "Gopal will renounce the world, Gopal will go to Kashi." This kind of sudden attack from Gopal, abandoning the frontline and retreating, has become Shashi's habit. She doesn't even flinch. When Shashi leaves, she says to the petitioner, "Just come back, where are you going?" If he comes and says, "Jamini Kabiraj's house" – Gopal gets very angry. "What else will you do, Senidi? You've recovered." "These are your made-up words." "Really? Really happening to me?" "Tell me, what injustice have I done?" "Your eyes are ruined, Shashi! I've become blind." No eyelid falls from the petitioner's eyes. One of his eyes has also been lost. Gopal's anger increases, believing this accusation to be true. Gopal doesn't speak to the boy. He keeps looking at Shashi with the only remaining hole in his eye, with incredibly captivating, watery eyes. Jamini's sons are chopping firewood on the other side, making a thumping sound. Jamini smokes, coughs, and thinks. He doesn't even glance at his wife's room. He doesn't speak to Shashi. His thoughts have no end. There is no reason to stay.

At this age – he's over sixty – how much more can a man endure? Look at the state he's in after all these years. The poor fellow has become so ugly that it's dizzying to look at him. A good calamity has befallen him – Shashi. He won't even let people die. Shashi doesn't even have time to see patients these days, let alone sit with them for long. Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law has taken over Shashi's practice in just a few days. She doesn't turn patients away anymore; she goes to see them, takes the money in her pocket, and returns home. One night, he even spent in Nandanpur. Ten rupees for travel and a ten-rupee visit. It's not easy to earn ten rupees for ten patients in a village, let alone ten rupees a night. But there's no doubt that Sen didi's popularity has decreased. However, Shashi doesn't realize that the reduction in Sen didi's appeal has been compensated by his sympathy. Sen didi's smile is no longer worth seeing, her eyes no longer hold deep affection, and no one can bear to stare at her face in amazement anymore. Sen didi's words, her affection and partiality, are no longer invaluable. Shashi feels sorry for her, but she can't attract him like before. "Oh, stay alive, father, that's all that matters. May you have more patients, may you become a millionaire. I pray to God day and night for this," Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law says, as if she's cursing him. "Sick body, tears of emotion. Get married and settle down, may your name be known throughout the country, so I can die in peace." "Shashi's treatment is quick treatment. If you get immediate treatment, you don't have to think about going to heaven so soon. He killed him. What does he know about spring treatment? I ended up with so many medicines..." "Did the eye go bad? Take these two pills of Laxmi Chara!" "It would have been better if I died than this," says Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law. Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law says, "Didn't you abandon Sen didi, Shashi?" "No, not Sen didi. There's a large crowd of patients. I don't have time to come." Shashi feels sorry for Yamini Kabiraj's daughter-in-law, perhaps not with disgust. No, not disgust. "You say you don't feel disgusted when you see her?" "No, no, why would I feel disgusted? I don't feel disgusted." But the villagers hear something different from Yamini's mouth. Shashi is not like that. Besides, Shashi's mind had found peace and stability through another avenue.

His thirst for intellectual romance. What he desires is nothing but the steam of tea, like the mist of dew. Learning to see life, learning to see life in an extremely incomplete, wavering manner, he has been surprised to see that life here, in this swamp, this jungle, this mosquito-infested village, is no less deep, no less complex. This is the first and main reason why he gradually likes this life, starting a medical practice in the village with great reluctance. Then comes the arrival of the traveling troupe's actors. Monalisa's Kumud, Venus and Cupid's Kumud, Shelley-Bayron-Whitman's Kumud, the peg-drinking, waltz-foxtrot-dancing Kumud, Nilakshi's lover Kumud, a Kumud superior to him in age, knowledge, education, and intelligence; the arrival of the traveling troupe's actor Sajia! How could this fail! Shashi's mind has found peace, has found stability. How suddenly he has realized that Kidskin's shoes, the amazing sari, the astonishing blouse, are all real. And the real money of those days' Kumuds. And then there's your face! That's also a bit of a 'don't care' attitude towards the world. A worldly romance. These things reach Gopal's ears. Many people in the village go to Gopal and say that Jamini Kobi Raj is a good-for-nothing, and he is cursing Gopal's son. Many people smile to themselves while telling the news. The villagers have sharp powers of deduction. Looking at the sky in the morning, they can say it will rain in the afternoon. If it doesn't rain in the afternoon, then it's the sky's fault. If what the villagers have predicted for the past four or five years since Gopal brought Jamini Kobi Raj comes to pass, then the earth itself is a lie. That is, it's the fault of everything in the world except the villagers' powers of deduction. Therefore, when giving any news related to Jamini Kobi Raj, they look at Gopal with serious faces and smile to themselves. Sometimes they even insult Shashi, and Shashi doesn't mind. Shashi used to not tolerate anyone's insults, but these days he has a kind of strange patience. He doesn't get angry at all with Jamini. From the acquaintance he has gained about the diseases of the soldiers, he understands that there are many madmen in the world besides the madmen of the household. There are those who have incredible perversions in their heads about one thing or another.

Yamini is one of them. If she gets angry at their meaningless insults, she'll end up in the company of madmen herself. "Whose fault are you blaming? Shashi's?" Yamini is surprised. "I am blaming Shashi. Do you really believe that, Gopal?" Shashi understands this. But the calculations aren't small, are they? All that coordination isn't trivial either. Shashi admits this too. He admits that the matter isn't bad. It's a sign of very advanced human civilization, a wonderful enjoyment. If you say 'enjoy,' he'll ruin the whole deal, including the boy. You've seen the rules for cutting the boy's hair! Gopal gets angry. He says to Yamini, "What are I hearing, you fool? Why blame the boy?" But Yamini can't control herself. She has unbearable irritation. She starts blaming Shashi again. "Blame him at home, blame him to me, it's fine. But be careful not to blame him outside, you fool. Otherwise, you haven't observed the fast on Ekadashi." The mention of the quarrel is true, but the reference to Ekadashi is quite pointless. Shashi suddenly got angry. Why, without any explanation, make such random comments? But what happened to Kusum? A stomach ache? The stomach ache is a very mysterious illness. There's no way to examine it, no way to understand if it's true or false, thermometers and stethoscopes are of no use. Whatever the patient says is accepted. If they say the pain is on the right, it's on the right; if they say it's a stabbing pain, it's a stabbing pain; if they say it's a constant, burning pain, it's a constant, burning pain. There's no room for doubt. Shashi couldn't understand anything after hearing Kusum's description. He called Paran and took him away. One night, Kusum suddenly had a stomach ache. An unbearable, life-threatening pain. There was no way not to call Shashi. Shashi still doesn't have the good habit of getting up from bed and going to the doctor at night, especially in the cold. At first, he was a little annoyed. When has anyone from the Haru Ghos family ever called a doctor for a stomach ache? A little warm oil massage would have done. But seeing the intensity of Kusum's pain, Shashi's annoyance didn't last. The matter is serious. The fasting on Ekadashi. He wouldn't doubt if anyone other than Kusum had the stomach to do such a thing. Shashi therefore respects life wholeheartedly. Narrow life, dirty life, weak, crippled life - all life.

He respects his own life above all else. Shashi also understands that life does not offer joy without respect. It is the way of the life-giver to exchange respect for joy. "Sister, you haven't eaten anything today, little brother. You've been fasting all day after a fight with Dada. You fasted on Ekadashi, didn't you?" "Yes. He would have benefited if he had. But there's no point in harboring resentment in the heart for being deprived." "I ate. Why wouldn't I? I ate a fish bone." Kusum said in a huff. "Kusum and Shashi have had another fight," Mati replied. "What did you eat, Paran's wife?" "Cabbage? Who knows?" After a while, he went home and sent the medicine. He himself did not return. That was his fault. The next day, when he went to inquire, he found Kusum on fire. What will she examine his chest for? Is she a doctor? Shashi could not understand Kusum's mind. Would he have been happy if he had listened to her stomachache and put the stethoscope on her chest for an hour and listened to her heartbeat? Kusum's headache treatment was probably to put a foot on her head. He is a doctor, how will he manage if he indulges in these mad acts? This is called ingratitude. Did the pain then lessen? He got up once at night and saw that she had taken the medicine, and the pain had lessened after taking the medicine, yet Kusum's mood did not improve. Shashi felt annoyed. "There's a little extravagance in all your affairs, daughter-in-law." Kusum was giving orders. Why wouldn't she know? Why didn't everyone get together and make endless arguments to buy a cow? Why should she leave it? Sometimes, at times of terrible need, at times of need when she will have to quarrel with Shashi, everyone will have to obey her orders. Kusum said calmly, "Mother is alone cleaning the cow shed, which is Mati Lakshmi, she will help. You didn't consult with little brother about the marriage with Sudeb. Mother seems to have run to the cow shed, son. I will send someone to check after the work is done. Little brother will sit." "What's there? Extravagance?" "Yes, little brother, there is. So, what you say, if I have to examine someone's chest for an hour and they have malaria fever, I won't do it." Shashi thought, this is a good opportunity. If he makes fun of Kusum's words, she will laugh and cool down. Kusum truly and sincerely placed two crumpled notes in front of Shashi.

Shashi couldn't understand the purpose, and that's why she was actually doing the housework, tying up her savings. "Oh, that's strong medicine! These little white pills – are they even medicine? Why didn't you come yourself? If eating the pills doesn't reduce your stomach pain!"

"I don't know. My father-in-law passed away a long time ago. If he were alive, he would have said something stronger, something even more pungent."

"What's so surprising about that? Where else would you get money if you don't steal? How do you make a living?"

When Mati left, Shashi said, "Didn't the medicine reduce your stomach pain yesterday, Boudi?"

"Take it, wherever you got it from, I've given you a visit, take it."

"Why, do you think I stole it?"

"I can't take it if you don't tell me where you got it from, Boudi."

"Where would I be if I had money, Boudi?"

"Mati said, you have no competition, Boudi!"

"I'm not lying. Here's your money."

Her mood remained bad all day. The shell of education and civilization that she had carefully maintained around herself, Kusum had cracked it. Kusum's words weren't false. Wasn't Haru Ghosh's father once poor? There's no denying that Gopal earned money by putting knives to people's throats. Kusum's father was far more of a gentleman than Gopal. Kusum's father could write such a letter in such beautiful handwriting, unlike Gopal, who couldn't even write his ABCs. Kusum probably remembered these things while insulting her. Although Shashi started by killing Kusum's flower of affection, Kusum succeeded. Shashi forgave her; all the offenses. All the offenses Kusum had committed against her until today. Kusum said she hadn't slept well for four nights. Shashi believed her. She believed her even when Kusum falsely claimed she hadn't eaten. Because Kusum's face showed it, and there were tears in her eyes. Kusum also said that she would be going to her father's house in a few days. Her father had sent a letter from Bhubaneswar. She hated the thought of going to her younger brother's house in anger, and that's why she had come to apologize. Shashi didn't take much pride in the fact that the villagers called her "Chhotobabu." It was just a title, just a name. It wasn't respect.

Gopal's clients affectionately called him "Chhotobabu" since childhood, and the nickname had spread throughout the village. Had he become arrogant, forgetting all this? Had he started treating everyone like a "Chhotobabu"? Shashi's room was at the back of the house, overlooking a garden. The garden had lychees, mangoes, jackfruits, guavas, pomegranates, and fragrant, sweet-smelling jackfruit saplings. Red and white hibiscus flowers bloomed. Coming from the garden, Kusum whispered through the window of Shashi's room, "Chhotobabu, listen." Shashi's self-respect was deeply hurt. He thought, "Kusum might be laughing at me behind my back. She might be thinking, 'Why does this man, who looks like a jackfruit tree with swollen fingers, study with his father's stolen money?'" Kusum said, "My father earns a good living. Does that make us equal to you? We didn't become rich with money earned by cutting throats, so you call us poor, call us thieves!"

Shashi turned and went to the garden, only to see Kusum crushing his carefully nurtured rose sapling underfoot. "No one can tolerate my nature. I have no control over my mouth!" "Why did you break the sapling, girl? It takes time to make something stand, you know!" Kusum came to apologize a few days later. In the afternoon, Shashi quietly returned home, his face darkened, like a thief. Seeing Shashi's room, Kusum said, "It's a nicely decorated room. But what's there to see in a bedroom, like a museum? Just two large almirahs with five shelves each. One is filled with books, stacked high on the top shelf. The other three shelves have medical books, and the bottom shelf has shining medical instruments. What are all these for?" Kusum asked. Kusum seemed in no hurry; she could stay in Shashi's room as long as she pleased. There were a few pictures and photos hanging on the wall, which Kusum glanced at absentmindedly. Most of the photos were of Shashi's wife and children, requiring no comment. Seeing the photo of the children, Kusum said, "Isn't that the man? Last year, Shashi hung a bunch of paddy on the wall." Kusum was very pleased to see it. "What's in the wooden box? Medicine? Let me see." "I keep the medicine in the small almirah, so why the box? No, there's no reason for my tongue to be unclean."

Kusum's health is not just on the surface; she is strong inside too. That's why Shashi likes Kusum. In ten years, she has only suffered from stomach pain once, and no other illness has ever touched her. That's what he wants. Shashi also thinks that if all Bengali girls had such health, the race wouldn't be in such a dire state today. Kusum was the only one in Shashi's house. Shashi knew it wasn't right. But he didn't stop her. He thought, if she doesn't fear scandal, then I am lost. I am not a sorcerer. Kusum hesitated for a moment and said, "I will come late. Maybe this year or next year, who knows? Anyway, little brother." "So, little brother, how much longer will you delay coming! Hurry up and go to your father's house, little brother. And don't come back." "Won't come back? What are you saying!" Shashi was surprised. "Are you alone in the house, little brother?" Kusum peered inside the room through the window and said, "Can I see your room, little brother?" "No. I will see it alone." "Alone? Shashi asked, "Tell me what happened that night? Tell me the truth!" "Come on, let's call Sindhu, shall we?" Kusum licked her tongue shyly. "Why won't your tongue be clean, little brother?" "My stomach hurt." "Let me see your tongue?" "The tongue is clean." But it is still early to say whether there will be much stormy rain in the month of Baishakh this year. The villagers are spending the winter happily. Rohu, catla, and hilsa are available in abundance. Those who have ponds, after drying them, get a basketful of fish by digging for water. Among them, khalasa and laathi fish are the most common. There are no good roads in this land of canals and canal cuttings, but Bimal Babu, resolving to spend the winter in the village, came to the village with his family and a motor car. "Really?" Kusum asked. It doesn't seem like he is particularly afraid. In times of crisis, Kusum remains calm. She doesn't get flustered or lost. Kusum tells Shashi, "I rode in a motor car to Kolkata that time. I went to Kolkata with my father before the wedding." Someone from the water says, "Can't you tell the Khokababus to bathe a little carefully, darwanji?" "Yes, the Dighi Babus too." Shashi said, "What can be done? Father has gone to sit on the veranda. He has fallen asleep." The darwan says, "Whose is the Dighi? Yours?" Who knew that today, seven years later, Gopal would break his sleep and sit on the veranda. There is a motor car in Bajitpur.

But in Gaudiya, there are motor cars.

Shashi said, "Sit down a bit. Father will go to the outer room now. But close the door. Can you see?" Shashi said, "You remember that, don't you?"

Kusum, surprised, said, "Oh, how could I forget? How long has it been? Eight years or nine? How old do you think I am?"

"Twenty-five?"

After the puja, Gaudiya's health gradually improved. Malaria decreased, cholera stopped, people's hunger increased, and fish and milk became cheaper. Only two or ten people died from pneumonia and influenza - that's nothing. In the months of Agrahayan and Poush, the water in the canals decreased significantly. By the end of Magh, the ponds dried up. In the month of Chaitra, many ponds had only two or three hands of water. If it doesn't rain in Baishakh, most of the ponds dry up. Then there is a great water crisis in the village. The people of Gaudiya, Satgaon, and Ukhara survive by drinking the water of the large pond in front of Shital Babu's house. It is forbidden for anyone other than the members of Babu's family to bathe in Babu's pond. The watchman guards the pond with a stick, and when Shital Babu's sons, daughters-in-law, and younger daughters start bathing, he leans on his stick and smiles. It is forbidden for the villagers to bathe anywhere other than the ghat. After the children of Shital Babu's house have bathed, the water near the ghat remains muddy for two or three hours. The proposal for Mati's marriage to Sudeb has been broken off. Kusum no longer raises the topic. Whether Mati gets married or not, it doesn't seem to matter to her. If Paran ever brings up the topic at night, Kusum would raise it and say that she has no opinion on the matter. Sometimes she would just fall asleep without saying anything. Meanwhile, Nitai was pestering her. He was pestering her so much that it seemed like the marriage was his, not Sudeb's. After consulting with Shashi once again, she had to tell Paran - no, she would not marry Mati to Sudeb. Nitai could not accept this calmly. He had shown greed, given good advice, heated her mood, but no, Paran was not agreeing. One day, on the way back from Bajitpur, Shashi met Nitai. Shashi was also angry with Sudeb for suspecting Nitai in this matter. Nitai is Sudeb's maternal uncle, her own maternal uncle. What else could he do but not make a fuss? Mati's name will now come up in court.

Paran will have to testify. It's a messy business. Anyway, Sudeb has filed a case against Nitai in Bajitpur. The charges are serious: embezzlement, illegal detention, and assault. Sudeb has filed a complaint about physical injuries, but there's doubt whether he can prove anything. Nitai is a shrewd and restrained man. He wouldn't commit a wrongdoing without evidence. Shashi, worried, said, "Magh month? Alright, fine. But didn't you give the calf to Paran? I heard Lali has stopped milking."

"Don't I have my own sense? I'll get Moti married in the city – in a grand ceremony. But the case with Nitai..." Shashi didn't discuss. "Why wasn't this discussed with Lali when selling the calf? Why give Paran Lali's calf, Chhotobabu?" He said, "Nitai owes me some money." "Give it to Chhotobabu, I'll repay it by the end of Magh." "Far away! Twenty-two years!" Who can say why Nandlal didn't keep Mobindu! Maybe it's a sense of duty, maybe compassion, or perhaps Nandlal has a kind of attachment to Bindu, thinking he can do as he pleases with her – who can say! Why Nandlal gives Bindu so many jewels and clothes is another mystery. Did Bindu wear borrowed jewelry to come to her father's house? Has she gained what she didn't have by putting on this act? Who can say! The unknown mysteries of life have consumed Gaudiya's Bindu, the anonymous mystery of Calcutta. Even while living in Calcutta, Shashi couldn't unravel it. Nandlal was a kind of insult, but Shashi wouldn't let go. On Bhai Phota day, Bindu had given him a 'phota'. Didn't he see Bindu's body full of jewelry? No. Bindu doesn't like the burden of jewelry in the simple daily life of the inner quarters – this explanation, heard from the eyes and ears, would sound false to Shashi. Shashi thought, Bindu is happy then! He just doesn't understand one thing. It's not something an outsider can understand. Nandlal has kept Bindu in a separate house, Bindu alone. If you ask how long Bindu spent her married life in the house where Nandlal's family has lived for twenty-five years, Bindu avoids the question. She doesn't even say how long she has been living as a wife in the new house.

An argument broke out, so I came. – Bindu only gives that explanation. She says she is fine, independent. She creates such a commotion and laughs in such a way that it seems as if she is really, truly fine, independent. There is no shortage of maids, and Shashi didn't even know about it. She wasn't even surprised that Nandalal came without giving them any news. After the marriage, Nandalal has cut off relations with his in-laws. He never writes letters, never replies to them. Initially, Bindu used to write letters, against her husband's orders. After Nandalal found out, he had to stop her from writing letters to her father's house. The one time he came to his father's house for two or four days, he hid it from his wife. Nandalal had gone to Bombay for fifteen days on business at that time. Such things cannot be kept secret for long. Returning from Bombay, one day Nandalal had asked his wife, "Went to Gaudiya?" Bindu, trembling with fear, tried to brush it off with a little laugh, saying, "I went for just one day, only one day. I heard about Father's illness!" – "Are you angry?" Shashi said sadly, "If things hadn't happened, then what's the point? The day after tomorrow, Nitai will send six pots of milk. He said he would do everything at home." "A bought-in daughter-in-law, a daughter-in-law taken out of fear, a daughter-in-law with no education, no dancing, no singing, nothing – an irreparable loss in life." Shashi leaves, saying, "Nitai called and said, 'Little brother, listen. I saw the son-in-law in Bajitpur. He will be coming to this village tomorrow for the wedding.'" – "Are you angry? – A low-class child!" – "Which son-in-law?" – "Mezu." Shashi had another desire in her mind. It was an impossible imagination. Shashi knows about Bindu's marriage. But that is not today's story, it stands almost in history. Nandalal was angry for so long, it's fine, it's not his fault. But what is the point of reopening the wounds of past events? Nandalal can easily forgive Gopal today. He can think that it wasn't force, he himself chose and married Bindu! It is not right for Nandalal to be angry at Gopal's offense and for Bindu to be punished in between. If that's the case, does Nandalal love Bindu? How many days has Shashi seen Bindu at her home? Bindu's nature is innocent, Bindu is simple.

Upon inquiry, Nandlal informed that he wouldn't be coming that day. Again, after several days, Shashi observed that Bindu was not her usual self, but rather mysterious. Bindu was engrossed in elaborate preparations for a grand celebration and had no time to talk! Nandlal would be arriving within an hour. Shashi believed that severing ties with her father's home was Bindu's punishment. She would request Nandlal to visit their home today. Through subtle hints, she would convey that Gopal had been repentant for seven years, and why not, brother, resolve this matter now. Then Nandlal arrived! He had grown older, more bureaucratic. Considering his status, his attendant was even more so. Nandlal had rented a boat for ten people to cross the canal, though only the two of them needed it. Perhaps he was afraid of drowning – the babu from Calcutta was coming – Shashi didn't express this at home. Nandlal never visited their home. But Shashi hadn't received any news from Bindu for a long time. She had come to the canal ghat to inquire about Bindu's well-being from Nandlal. It was impossible to have a private conversation with the arrogant and haughty sister-in-law in the village. There was also an attendant present. The rooms were filled with expensive furniture, and the house was bustling with activity. Nandlal had made elaborate arrangements for Bindu's luxury. The scent of essence filled the entire house! Seeing Nandlal and listening to him, Shashi's imagination was extinguished. Anger, resentment – these were the crutches of man, and she didn't want to give them up easily. What would she live with if she did? The next day, Shashi went to the canal ghat – the same ghat where she had spent an evening in a boat with Haru's corpse. It was morning. Bindu was a year younger than Shashi. Accordingly, Nandlal was her elder. Shashi didn't make any effort to withhold information. She asked, "When did you leave Calcutta?" "Is Bindu well?" The unknown mysteries of life had consumed Bindu. "The day before yesterday." "Why wouldn't she be well?" She was suffering, wondering how long she would have to wait at the ghat. She had nothing to say either. Hearing that he was coming, there was a flurry of activity in the house. "Well, if you have work, don't detain him. Offer him refreshments and send him on his way in the afternoon." Shashi added, "Nandlal himself would have come. I forbade him." Nandlal shook his head, "I will return from here today, Shashi."

"And will you have the convenience to go home after finishing work? I mean, maybe you won't have time. No, maybe you won't. There are so many people. They are very religious. What will happen standing here? Tell your servant to load the goods into the car. Leave the boat; our boat will take us back."

"I have to return. I came after finishing work in Bajitpur. I will hire a boat again after meeting Shital Babu."

"Then Shashi said, 'Oh, okay.' Nandalal said, 'Shital Babu's brother is Bimal Babu. He is the landlord.'"

"Who is letting you return today? Everyone is expecting you, Nand. But Nand's convenience will not be possible. There is no time. At the end of the village." Nandalal said, "Hmm, whose is the motorcar?" Hearing the question, Shashi was a little surprised. Shashi swallowed this insult as well. "What is Shital Babu like?"

"Well, it's not that far! Can a horse-drawn taxi be found? I'll send the servant to call him."

"Winter is coming. There is no more delay in Poush Parbon. The sound of continuous drumming is heard in the village. The sun's radiance has diminished in the sky. The crops in the fields are fresh. People's skin has started to crack. The plaster has been removed, and the gaps in the fences are being filled with thorn bushes and paper pulp. Moti has had a fall once. Kusum has had another bout of stomach pain. Paran has once brewed jaggery rice. This time he wants to make some *patali* jaggery. He has borrowed money from Shashi and bought about forty more date palms. Lali's calf, Nitai, once went away and returned Paran. 'For Chhotobabu. Otherwise, you would never get the calf back.' This is what Kusum said. Kusum was extremely reluctant to lend Paran money to buy date palms from Shashi. Paran did not heed his words, arguing that the household cannot run if his wishes and reluctance are always given importance. Mokshadar's physical condition has not been good for some time. A dependent girl in Shashi's house, Shashi's relationship with her is like that of a brother and sister; she caught a cold during her childhood and died of pneumonia. The city of Kolkata! He pressed the accelerator and the car sped towards Gowdia in the city of Kolkata. Nand has kept Bindu in a separate house, providing servants and luxuries. The neighborhood where Bindu's house is located is not very good either. Is Nand mad?"

Mad, or whatever he was, he could have killed him easily. Like a shower of arrows, Kil Chhor Ghushi. How much longer could he have endured it? Five minutes. In five minutes, Nand would have reached Garh Ghori. Unconscious, Nand. 'A horse-drawn carriage is available. This carriage is going back to Babu's house, you can go if you wish.'

Shashi kept his gaze fixed on a tree in Rasik Babu's garden, now he looked again towards the jewelry shop. That's where it ended. Going to the boat, he took out a mirror and comb from his suitcase and fixed his hair. He took a pinch of betel leaf and put it in his mouth. Leaving his expensive overcoat open, he put on a shawl even more expensive than it and got into the motorcar. It was as if he had just acquired ownership of the motorcar. Well, that's not surprising. Nandlal has the habit of riding in motorcars, Shashi is used to bullock carts. It's impossible to say what Nand was thinking, he said, 'If I have time, I'll come to your house, Shashi.' 'Come, Shashi. I'm a little in a hurry.' Shashi said, 'You go. I have work to do here!' 'If you don't have time, why talk?' Still, Nand might love Bindu. Shashi was greatly shocked in this matter! A cheap, makeshift room made of raw bamboo with minimal expense was erected in the courtyard of the house and used as a temporary morgue. Once the matter was over, the room, minus the tin roof, was abandoned. This was the arrangement even at the time of the dead girl's death. What a strange thing! Kunda says, 'You're a fool!' Think, if such things happen, it's your fault. Just because you're a doctor, will you say anything you want? You're a respected figure, your words could also affect Bhasar, don't you realize that? Now, this practice is eternal in Shashi's house. Shashi himself was born in such a hut, he doesn't remember. Shashi came into the world as a naked mendicant, now he's a doctor. A quack doctor, why did he even let that happen? Did he learn medicine just for money? Wherever you can use your education to earn money, you'll use it only to that extent, isn't that right? Teaching hygiene to the entire village is a big deal, he omitted that, but in his own home? Kunda proudly looks at his son. The innocent child is looking into Shashi's eyes. Shouldn't he be a little embarrassed?

Shashi explains to him, saying, "You know, son, eating muri with salt will give you worms, dysentery, cholera." Kunda's son, Hama, keeps picking up muri from the ground and eating it twice a day. Kunda doesn't believe Shashi. He finds it beautiful to watch his son put one muri at a time in his mouth with two fingers. No, he's not a doctor. He's a businessman. He makes money outside, and he lives in a rented house where he fights with death, an unhealthy environment, the dominance of death. If you give him a plate, he'll eat everything in it! Then he'll start whining again. He'll scatter it, pick it up, and eat it for a long time. When Shashi angrily scolds him, Kunda says, "Be quiet, Shashida. The boy is not yours. I know that if Mama closes her eyes, you will throw me out of the house." Then, for a few days, Shashi tried to introduce health practices in the house, making everyone busy. "Brush with neem twigs." "Oh no! How white teeth get from coal!" The one who brushes with coal was not willing to use neem twigs at all. Is Shashi mad? Why so much fuss about brushing teeth with coal? If Kunda puts muri in his mouth from the ground, what's the difference? "What are you brushing your teeth with?" Everyone tolerates it for a day or two, then sit up with smiling faces, pulling their hair and saying; What's wrong with Shashi? Now Bapu needs to get him married. But within a few days, they rebel. Those who are young and have husbands think; Why should we sleep in the afternoon if we have to stay awake at night like us! Those who don't have husbands think: What will we do without sleeping in the afternoon? How will we pass the time? Shashi says, crazy, what will happen to us with health? The old women think the idea is probably not false. The burning sensation in the stomach seems to be reduced a little by not sleeping in the afternoon. But as soon as the rice hits the stomach, their eyes close, what will happen? Kunda brings such complaints in every matter. This is his nature. He has given up trying to improve the health of the people in the house. The first was terrible anger, gradually he gained understanding. He has realized that if he tries to enforce his health practices, the harmony of their lives will be completely destroyed, they will become unhappy. They are very happy to suffer from diseases and die prematurely.

Not enthusiasm, but a quiet, subdued happiness, along with good health and abundant energy, is the stark contrast in their lives. They are all veiled in a sense of unease, like residents of a cramped, confined space. Shashi says, covering the gaps in the bars with paper. The air inside has become foul. At least open a window. If not tomorrow, I'll tear through the ceiling. The stale air will have to escape through the gap between the roof and the ceiling. "Are you going to suffocate us like mice, Shashi-da?" says Kundal, "I'm here with a young child in the veranda room. Can you imagine how carefully I have to be? This isn't a veranda, we don't even have the good fortune to have a pucca room." Who knows when the child's milk allocation will be reduced, so Auntie starts feeding the child a little more milk, out of fear. In the afternoon, Shashi goes from room to room, saying, "Get up, get up, everyone, you can't sleep. What's the point of sleeping in the middle of the winter afternoon?" Shashi can't understand where the idea of evicting them from the house is coming from. But she doesn't object. Because, according to Shashi, who else is there suitable for eviction from the house, if not Kundal? They laugh; "Won't it be cold if we open the windows? If the air from one room enters this one, won't everyone's breath be stifled?" In the evening, Shashi comes to the veranda once more. She says to the residents of the pucca room, "What a mess you all are! Everyone will die holding their breath. All the windows are closed, where will the air come from?" Auntie thinks, "Oh dear! So much milk wasted in the house, my child drinks a little, it's no one's concern. How much milk does he even drink?" Shashi says, "Auntie, listen to me, don't feed the child so much milk. He doesn't even have the ability to digest it." Gopal, upon hearing this, says, "Has he finally started practicing medicine at home?" Shashi thinks. Shashi is surprised to think. Kumud once gave a lecture like this, to prove how foolish it is to say that the color of the sky is determined by the state of life and that people are unhappy and grumble in anger. It's not a lie. Kumud, Shashi thinks. In the world of thought, there are no hierarchies. The existence of objects and objects are one in our minds. Have I ever thought that there is no connection between human existence and human existence?

When a person laughs or cries, I get caught up in their laughter or tears: I mentally label the person as happy or sad. Labeling isn't wrong. Everything needs a definition. It's convenient to use a few words to understand who is laughing and who is crying. Why more? Why change? Why silently wipe away tears when there's a clamor of joy? What's the point if there's only health, forgetfulness, happiness, joy, and celebration instead of disease, sorrow, grief, pain, and depression? Thinking about it all, Boi's Shashi becomes utterly bewildered! He cures diseases, makes the sick healthy. Yet, if you take it to the extreme, the only truth you find is that suffering from illness, being healthy, curing the disease, and not curing the disease are all the same – for both the patient and Shashi. Thinking about all this, Shashi experiences so many supernatural feelings! This process of experiencing the mysterious isn't unique to Shashi; there's a child in everyone who loves to play with the poetry of the mind, the imagination of the mind, the unreality beyond the mind's creations, and the madness of the mind, at inappropriate times. Shashi wasn't ashamed to be a childish person with such childish hobbies. He just wouldn't have agreed to pay the price for eliminating the hobby if he had known it beforehand. Standing on top of the hill, facing west, his mind is filled with discipline. He has a simple belief, a courage, in the power to accomplish all the good and bad things of his future life. But before the sun set, Shashi became afraid. The same fear that used to wake him up in the middle of the night as a child. Shashi's whole body trembled. He felt that he had no future left, not even a few minutes. He was so helpless, so fragile. On top of a wild, overgrown earthen hill, far above the earth, beneath layers of arranged fears, Shashi suddenly disappeared. He didn't know what formless, boundless, inconceivable thing had condensed and become limited around him; but he would never breathe again. One day, Shashi climbed the earthen hill on the edge of the pond, not far from Haru Ghosh's house. After the rains, the hill is covered in jungle. What was the need for Shashi to push through the jungle and climb on top of the mound? He would see the sunset.

On the horizon, the sun will be seen to rise from behind the curved line that the tree range has formed in the distance. The wondrous, well-crafted mechanism of their minds continues to function, a poem of unhealthy wetlands on Earth: the stench of stagnation, dense fog, green algae, the umbrella of poisonous toads, and water lilies. Fresh, vibrant life is not compatible with them. For several days, Shashi remained very worried and melancholic. With half a heart, he always thought about his desired life - a life of bright, lively enjoyment within the confines of education, civilization, and refinement. This unbearable, earthly life of mosquitoes and dust had become Shashi's consolation when he left Khushi village, where he could start life according to his heart's desire. Meanwhile, the vastness of the world certainly hasn't diminished. Shashi's freedom hasn't been taken away by anyone either. Yet, Shashi feels as if he has become a lifelong rural doctor in Markamara village - he has no strength to go anywhere else, leaving this village. Undoubtedly, Kusum is responsible for this. He has seemingly permanently stifled the source of Shashi's imagination. The life that Shashi imagined, as bright as lightning, is not a life of compromise - Shashi's love of sleep is boundless. Imagination, therefore, had a center for Shashi, an extraordinarily non-existent human being, but not unreal; Shashi's imagination does not know how to be frustrated. Kusum has made that great human being false. Shashi doesn't want to return - for a long time, he feels like cursing everyone in even stronger language, he gets a deep taste of a bitter pleasure. Basudeb's widowed daughter-in-law, who once stopped Shashi on the way to save the dead ghost, suddenly caught his eye. Even three months after the ghost's death, Shashi heard her stifled sobs while passing by the house. Today she was crying again, silently. It's not surprising that the heart of the one who came to visit, demanding payment for his visit, would cry, the one whose patient didn't survive. Shashi fled, his face flushed. A fierce quarrel erupted with Basudeb over the money Shashi needed. His two sons came. There was no distinction between honor and dishonor for either side. Yet, Shashi didn't back down - he collected all the money that had been recorded in the small notebook for visits and medicine and left.

He hasn't settled the account for the ghost's treatment, - every penny he collected for it...

Perhaps he thought he would meet Kumud as soon as he set foot in Calcutta, - the prince of wisdom would welcome him to the city. They stayed in Calcutta for five days. They saw whatever there was to see in the city. They bathed in the Ganges, worshipped at Kalighat, and roamed around aimlessly in trams. But where is Moti's prince of wisdom? His friend Shashi, he must be living somewhere in this city. But Shashi never mentioned his name, nor did he call him. If the endless wonders of the city didn't overwhelm him, Moti's eyes might have welled up with tears. They have rented two rooms in a hotel near Sealdah - one room for Shashi, one for himself. One day, Shashi spent the night at a doctor friend's house. Shashi didn't even bother to tell Moti that he would be going to Calcutta alone, and Paran would be going with him. Paran would also be going, of course. Mokshada has hinted at several Ganga snans (holy baths), - it seems he won't miss this opportunity. So Kusum will also go, no doubt. Paran will have to be clever for Moti now, - the expenses of so many people traveling to and from Calcutta are not easy. But even if he doesn't go, it won't do, - Moti has been crying for two days without eating or drinking. Shashi tried to explain to Moti. He said, "Tell me what you want, I'll buy it for you."

Moti doesn't know if Shashi has any other friends in the world besides Kumud. The next day, ten o'clock had passed, and Moti had been watching the comings and goings of everyone in the hotel since morning, but neither Shashi nor Kumud had arrived. He had planned to go to his museum with Paran that day, - he didn't feel like leaving after breakfast. In the evening, Shashi went to find out about Bindu. He was afraid of returning home not knowing whether his sister was alive or not. Shashi has an extra affection in his heart for those who have suffered in life, like Gopal. He feels somehow responsible for Gopal's actions. The neighborhood is not good. At the end of that street is Bindu's house - if he sees someone walking on that street after dark, a known person curses him. But Bindu's house is a little different, - bordering on a respectable neighborhood!

A piece of land lies fallow on the east side of the house. Perhaps the burial point beneath the brick floor exhales a stifled breath from time to time. Kusum says, "Oh, you unlucky girl, Mar. Young master won't be driving the car today. What will we do, Pityesh? It's late, and the car is expensive. We'll have to take the train, or else we'll have to eat the rice we've got." "We have to go. Seeing the animals, he returned to the hotel in the evening and saw Shashi sitting and drinking tea – alone. Kumud must have come and left, annoyed. Shashi said, "I just arrived a little while ago. Where did you go – to the museum? But tomorrow is the last day, and we're leaving the day after." "Nand's house wasn't there. Shashi saw Bindu after almost two and a half years. Bindu is almost the same. The appearance of Bindu's house hasn't changed much either. Moti has no objection to that. 'And what will you do staying in Kolkata?' 'I'm fine, Dad, when did you come? Everyone is fine, right?' Moti asked fearfully, 'When did young master come?' 'How are you, Bindu?' Wrapping a shawl around her body, Moti shivers from the cold. 'Young master won't come this time, Moti, if he were coming, he would have come by now.' 'Let young master come?' 'You'll be going to the museum then, Dad, right? It's very cold now.' Shashi knows it's a lie. Nand doesn't allow him to write letters. Shashi fed him and started asking all sorts of questions. Bindu is still curious about the village of Gaudiya. Who is alive, who has gone to heaven, who among the familiar children have gotten married, how many children they have – Bindu's eyes welled up with tears as he listened to this news from Shashi. Shashi said, "And what about your children, Bindu?" Bindu shook his head. But said the opposite. "He died!" "He died? When did he die?" "Two years ago." The last time Shashi came to visit, Bindu seemed likely to have a son. Has that son then died? Bindu was standing looking at the picture of Radha and Krishna on the wall. Suddenly, Shashi felt that Bindu's body is fine, but his face has become strangely discolored. It's as if there is dryness beneath the skin of his face – as if the moisture of his skin has been sucked dry. "Are you sick, Bindu?" "What sickness? I'm fine."

Bindu returned after wandering around outside for a while. 'You're fine, Bindu, aren't you?'

'I am! Everything seems so wonderful! It feels so mysterious, the hidden thoughts behind Bindu's composed face, Bindu's calm, unemotional words. Bindu is not like her sister, not a blood relationship. If you cut your finger with a knife, the blood that comes out is the same for both of us, there's no difference. Yet, he doesn't know Bindu, doesn't understand her. Shashi said to Mamata, 'Why sit so far away, come here, sit here.'

Bindu said rudely, 'Why?'

Shashi said, 'Come, come, let's talk to you.'

After much effort, he came close to Bindu. Tears were streaming down his face. 'Why are you crying?'

At this question, Bindu burst into tears. Shashi laughed and said, 'Why? Can't you write a letter to find out?'

Bindu said, 'It's so lazy to write a letter, Dada!' Shashi was surprised. But he couldn't say anything. It's true that he had been coming to this house for half an hour, just like before, and then taking his leave forever. But what could Shashi do? He was afraid that Nand would get angry after being happy for such a short time and hurt Bindu. Did Bindu care about this helpless neglect? Bindu never said anything with a facial expression. 'What a bright light! The glass chandelier surrounded by three bulbs is sparkling - Shashi's eyes seemed to dazzle. Eight or ten obscene pictures on the wall. A carpet spread all over the floor. On it are several large pillows. There's also a harmonium, a flute, and tabla.' 'Huh? What's it like?' - Shashi seemed to understand. The mystery of Bindu's life, which the Gowdias had consumed, became clear to the anonymous Shashi of Kolkata. 'A terrible punishment? Nand has given Bindu a terrible punishment? Such a house for Bindu, so many clothes and belongings, so much luxury!' Shashi had guessed without seeing. The drawers of the cupboard are filled with bottles of various sizes and labels. Bindu cried for a long time with the pride of many days. Finally, he calmed down. Shashi said, 'Tell me what's wrong, Bindu?' Shashi explained, 'If you don't tell me today, you won't be able to tell me ever, Bindu. You'll be ashamed another day. Does Nand treat you badly?' Shashi had no more desire to see or hear anything. He said like dying, 'Let's go to the other room, Bindu.' Bindu said, 'You taught me to sing. You play the tabla, I sing.' 'Hmm.'

"You don't love him, do you, Bindu?" "Not like a wife, but like a protector." Bindu firmly squeezed his hand and said, "No, see the real thing." There was a small cupboard in the room. Tania opened the door and said to Bindu, "Look." Bindu said, "See? If he comes, will he sit in any room, see, Dada? Let's show him." "Some day you will call me close! Someone will call!" "Hmm. You are punishing me severely." "Nothing, Dada. Bindu's dry eyes had been burning for so long, now they became moist again. Wiping his eyes, he said, "Why did I lie to you?" Bindu said, "No, no, that's not it. He himself gives the punishment he wants to give. Then, in a soft voice, he said again, "He is very caring if he is sick, Dada, he does that too." Looking at the roadside shop, Bindu said, "I thought he would forgive." "Who is leaving without playing, Dada? Look, I have a false tooth - on the first day, the wire broke and the tooth fell into my throat. Since then, I have been eating on my own." "Will you go with me, Bindu?" Bindu eagerly said, "Where will you go with me?" Bindu anxiously said, "Let's go now, Dada, what if he suddenly comes?" Shashi said, "We are going to the country tomorrow, - are we going?" Shashi thought for a long time. Coming to this room, Shashi said, "To force him to marry, right?" Bindu said, "No. I pretended to be angry because of that." "That's what Dada thinks." "But you didn't do that, did you? How old were you then?" "Are you serious?" Sendi didi hurt Bindu the most. Shashi was surprised that Sendi didi always came to this house for some time. It seemed like she had a pact with Gopal. Covering her head with a veil in her kurta, Gopal smoked tobacco, sitting on the steps a short distance away, Sendi didi talked to him. Seeing Sendi didi's scarred face and crooked eyes, it seemed like Gopal's illness had been cured. Nowadays he is cheerful and peaceful. Sendi didi attracted Shashi with the emotional affection of a rural beauty, and because she naturally liked the affectionate nature of the beautiful woman, she also showed affection to Shashi. But Shashi never believed that Sendi didi also had the desire to take appropriate revenge on Gopal by captivating the boy with the weapon of the extraordinary beauty of the setting sun in his last youth. Gopal's crooked mind seeks crooked means.

So, Shashi could understand Gopal's cheerful mood amidst the current unhappiness of the elder sister. He couldn't understand the comings and goings of the elder sister. It seemed insulting to Shashi that the elder sister could sit and chat with Gopal, with whom she had had a lifelong enmity, with whom she had caused irreparable harm. Gopal would sometimes laugh at the elder sister's jokes because the elder sister's ugly face would also be filled with laughter. Shashi knew that at a very young age, the elder sister's burden had fallen on Gopal's shoulders. Shashi also knew how much money Gopal had given to Yamini in exchange for the elder sister - three hundred rupees! The thought that the elder sister could laugh so heartily at Gopal's rustic humor increased Shashi's disgust for the village. The elder sister once kept Bindu alone in the corner for almost three hours. There is no exact account of what she said to the speechless girl. Bindu didn't answer most of her questions. The elder sister was not one to be silenced. She would ask herself questions, invent her own satisfactory answers, and freely proceed with her imaginary knowledge about Bindu. The whole thing boiled down to this: Nand had married again and driven Bindu away. "So Nand has three marriages now - haven't you, sister? What a man Nand is, eh? Shashi went to bring the news, I suppose? That's why Shashi suddenly went to Kolkata. I know you are surprised, sister!" "Kusum hasn't met Shashi in private since the day she saw Shashi's room. One morning, Kusum called her through that window. Shashi got up and saw that the four roses were still pressed under Kusum's feet. Isn't Kusum afraid of the thorns pricking her?" "I did it on purpose, little brother, why so much affection for the four of them? If you need them, you still have to come and ask, - don't people get angry?" "Shashi went to the pond. Even the palm trees in the cold seemed lifeless. A palm tree had fallen to the ground a long way north of the pond, and Kusum took Shashi there. Sitting herself in the hollow of the palm tree, she ordered, 'Sit down, little brother, I have a lot to say, it will take time.'" "Such emotional affection from the elder sister!" Tears welled up in her eyes and began to tremble. "Even today, she hugs the four of them, brother! How much hardship I have endured to save that girl." "Shashi said, 'What is needed, sister?'

"Come to the pond once, I'm telling you," Shashi said slowly, his voice fading. He became absent-minded while speaking, occasionally pausing. Why did Kusum seem so mysterious to him today? It was that day, when Kusum had come to see his room in the afternoon, that he first noticed the elderly woman's romantic antics, all meant to distract him. It had been a sad day for Shashi. He considered his heart precious, as if it had been sold for a handful of peanuts. Shashi felt content now. So, if that was the case, why had he spent years in Kusum's company without ever realizing what Kusum wanted? Doesn't it take a human being seven years to understand that a woman's heart is yearning? The young Kusum, who still played with Shashi, was simply having fun. Shashi didn't realize it, so he thought Kusum hadn't gone mad at this age. There seemed to be no other explanation for Kusum's secrecy. For the first time in his life, Shashi was stunned to discover a surprising aspect of Kusum's nature. There was a little girl inside Kusum, even simpler and more foolish than Moti. This little Kusum lived behind the part of Kusum that had grown up seeing and hearing about the world. This amazing side of her only became apparent when she forgot about the world, when the complexities and responsibilities of life no longer seemed within her reach. Shashi understood that the madness he had observed in Kusum all these years – which never fit with her calm, patient, and serious nature – was the legacy of Kusum's boyish past, a past that was hard for Kusum's mature mind and body to even imagine. Bindu also liked Kusum. Kusum's curiosity was satisfied. She didn't ask Bindu anything about her life in Calcutta. Kusum acted as if it was nothing surprising that Bindu had come to her father's house, following the usual custom. She would sit with Bindu for a long time, trying to distract her with various stories. She was unparalleled in creating captivating stories by weaving truth and lies together. She knew wonderful techniques for creating beautiful illusions. She would say, for example, that if she went to the village for fun from the city, Thakur Jhi would die of malaria.

If a fever comes with a severe shiver, he will rush to his father's house and inform Karta. Shashi said nothing. Kusum sat down with a great difference. Kusum seemed a little surprised at first, then suddenly her face turned red with shame; Kusum had called Shashi here to hear about Bindu's matter. Out of curiosity, she hadn't even noticed how much she had acted like an official assistant by calling Shashi here quietly. Then, by inquiring about Bindu, Kusum surprised Shashi. Kusum is not lacking in intelligence. So much trouble just to hear Bindu's story! Kusum could have happily told it to her. "What will you do after hearing her story?" Kusum said in astonishment. "Won't you tell me?" Shashi returned home that day with a light heart. Gopal was angry, - he had a quarrel with Shashi. He started shouting that he had never seen such behavior in his life. The rule of the house is to keep the wife in a happy state. It was better to talk if there was something to discuss. She didn't complain about anything. She should have been happy with what Bindu did. If she wants to get rid of some of her own unnecessary worries, it will be called fate for the wife. The husband will have that right! Does he mind if I drink? Don't I hear that every big man in the world is addicted to something? If you had said it then, so many big people wouldn't have given their daughters away to a harlot without arranging a groom. Gopal, - the result of making a fuss was this, Gopal's communication with Shashi was cut off again. Such a rift in the affection of a father with his son is as painful as a rift in the world. Days passed, the quarrel did not end. Gopal sulked. The son had become like a god in the sky, - difficult to control. Finally, Gopal himself went to Shashi's room one day, pleading. Shashi took down the thick medical book and put it aside, he pulled it, flipped the pages, and clearly felt proud of his son's extraordinary talent for reading such thick books. He said, "Keep passing the time by reading books as long as you are at home, Shashi. Your health is getting worse. Why are you reading so much, there are no exams? Didn't you used to read day and night before? What a strange cycle of conversations! What came up while discussing Bindu's matter! Is Shashi planning to go to the city to study medicine? Is that why he is studying so much?"

Gopal paled. In this village, Gopal was born in a thatched house. Once, he was Annu's lean servant at the gate. Today, Gopal, now a man, is enraged. "You'll be jailed! No one can imprison Gopal Das's daughter so easily. You are all boys, with raw intelligence. You will suffer greatly, I tell you." "Why did you bring her, Shashi? Why are you being so arrogant? Is this a game, or what? Leave her here and go – today itself." "Even thinking that, Shashi is also greatly surprised. Gopal asks the girl, 'How did you get these ornaments and things?' 'A doctor always needs to know new things – Shashi says.' 'What did I have to bring her for? If I brought her, they would have jailed me as a thief.' 'You know everything, Shashi, it's great for practicing medicine in the village.' 'If I go to the city sometime' – 'How have you managed all this time?' 'That's not possible, father.' 'You don't know everything – if you knew, you would understand that she can't stay here.' 'Why not bring her then?' 'I brought her, father.' 'Impossible!' 'There are very big doctors in the city – you won't even be noticed there, Shashi. What's happening here with you? Besides, even if you don't earn money from medicine, you can manage. You'll see, you'll take interest, you'll multiply it. Something good will happen in medicine, or it won't. There's no other doctor in the village, the villagers are dying untreated, you have to see that too – you are very selfish, Shashi.' 'He has built a veranda; thirty patients fall at his door at one time. Money and land spread all around. Inside and outside, here is the expanse of his ideal Bengali life. He will die here. Shashi will not stay here, she will not follow in his footsteps.' "Gopal anxiously says, don't bring up all those things, Shashi." "One day, a letter came addressed to Bindu. It wrote that if she doesn't return within three days of receiving the letter, he will forgive her this time." "Shashi, burning with anger, said, 'Forgiveness: who has the right to forgive, who has the audacity to write about forgiveness? You are not going to politely reply to the letter, are you, Bindu?' Seeing Shashi's calm demeanor, Gopal is once again overwhelmed by his own excitement." "How hard the boy stands with the old man. He is not a friend, not a relative, not a superior, God knows what kind of relationship exists between a man and an old boy." "The key is bulging in Karta's pocket, indeed."

"Gopal became restless. 'He's restless, following me around,' she said. 'He sat quietly for a while.' 'Then what? Suddenly, in an intimate tone, he asked, 'Hey Shashi, why don't you like the village anymore, being a village boy?' Shashi was surprised and said, 'Do you want an answer? I've cut off all ties. How can I reply to the letter?' Bindu smiled faintly, 'Your heart has become so soft, Dada – you have no courage. You can't do anything on your own. Besides, couldn't I have run away before?' Gopal ran away. What would he say? He might not speak to the boy for fifteen days again. After a while, Gopal returned to Shashi's room. 'Did I lose the key, hey?' Shashi said, 'Sometimes I think I'd have more money if I stayed in the city.' 'I didn't decide anything. It just occurred to me now.' Bindu said, 'Don't give it, Dada. – I asked if you would or not.' 'But where are you talking about going to the city?' Shashi said, 'The key? The one in your pocket?' 'Why don't you like it?' 'Do I have to ask?' 'Won't you answer?' She wrote a letter and didn't send it. The winter days passed quickly. Shashi rarely met Kusum. There was no hurry to meet. Besides, Shashi was very busy. There are fewer illnesses in the village during winter, but he had become acquainted with the doctor at the Bajitpur hospital a few days earlier than usual. He had told him that if any extraordinary patient came to the hospital, he would give Shashi some news – one doesn't learn everything just by reading books. Shashi would occasionally go to Bajitpur. If there was an opportunity to see a major operation, he would forget about his patients and stay there for a day or two. Seeing Shashi's smile, Kumud said seriously, 'I'm not joking, Shashi, you need to get married. You are a calm, ordinary person. Your life should be like the life of an ordinary person. If you try to live differently, you won't be happy.' Shashi said, 'You weren't like this, Kumud, what advice are you giving me? – Will I stay in your house, or will you arrange a different house for me?' Kumud said, 'It's not bad to have a separate house, Shashi – can't you be alone for two or four hours?' Shashi laughed, 'Is there anything to like in the village?'

The forest, the pond, and the main man. Even if it doesn't feel good, I will stay in Kumud for a few days. Due to the lack of company, I have become very thoughtful. 'Kusum doesn't complain. Whatever has happened to Kusum, it seems she has forgotten to complain. Such absent-mindedness sometimes comes to bookish people, so that they make mistakes in their accustomed work.' It is surprising that Kumud doesn't write poetry out of shyness. What does he want in life, even now I cannot understand, Kumud? Is he still experimenting with life? In search of which pearl in which ocean is he wandering through the seven seas? There is nothing more astonishing than that neither a calm nor a wild man can penetrate the mystery of life and find that eternal state, which, even if unchanging, continues, where novelty is not desired by man. Like Shashi, Kumud wants to slow down life today; and Shashi prays for the return of Kumud's past days of heated, exuberant life! Shashi knows that happiness will not be special in it. Still, how can he say, 'I don't know how to live properly, I will write poetry. I am shy to write.' 'As long as I live, - Shashi is happy, truly live?' 'How long will you let me live, Shashi?' Kumud said, 'Lack of company? Why don't you get married?' He was just about to join, but somehow he felt annoyed by the word 'party', so he thought he would take a rest for a few months. 'But there is no bag. As soon as I took off my clothes to look for it, the bag came out. Kumud said, I completely forgot, thinking of giving it to you, brother, what if it was stolen! Keep the bag with you, whatever you need.' One day Shashi said, 'Will you give me fifteen rupees, Kumud?' There was no cash in hand, someone had to be given. Shashi thought, hmm, this time your wallet will be stolen! Hey Kumud, you have started cheating with me again. Kumud opened his suitcase, patted it all over and said, 'My wallet?' One day Shashi asked, 'What happened to Binodini Opera, Kumud?' Then one day the reason for Kumud's self-exile in the village of Gaudiya, full of ponds, forests, and jungles, was known. Shashi said in a pale voice, 'What are you saying, Kumud, will you marry me? That little girl.' Shashi felt shy holding the bag. 'How much is there?' 'Who knows how much there is. Count it.' Seeing Kumud's laughter, Shashi became even angrier.

In this world, nothing seems serious to Kumud, as if whatever comes to mind can be done with a snap, as if there are no rules in life, no way to live. Suppressing his anger, Shashi said in a judge-like tone, "Leave these nonsense aside, Kumud, who told you to associate with the traveling troupe? There's no point in getting involved in Saraswati Opera, go back to your uncle. What big business does your uncle have? He can't give you a decent job. Then how many good girls will you find in the village, who can be your suitable companion? Why would you burn your life away by marrying a wretched girl on a whim?" Then Kumud slowly narrated to Shashi the love story of his birth with the innocent village girl by Talpukur. Did Kumud know that such a girl like Moti could have a mind capable of such profound love? Moti has taught Kumud that everything else in human life is hollow without the affection of a simple heart. To tell the truth, Kumud never imagined such a wonderful experience. Shashi was beyond surprise to hear it. Moti? That simple, rustic girl secretly loved Kumud so much? Shashi's words were in Shashi's room – after evening. A seven-rupee table lamp was lit in the room. In that light, they seemed to be hurt by looking at each other's faces. Shashi's anger didn't last long. After a moment of silence, he said, "I can't believe you like Moti, Kumud." Shashi was angry. He felt a kind of burning sensation and said, "So you came here, Kumud, under the pretext of visiting a friend, for rest?" Kumud said, "It's not entirely small either. Besides, small things are good. If I get married, why shouldn't I marry a village girl?" Kumud smiled slightly, "I can't understand which way you are leaning, Shashi. Moti is a good village girl, and I am also with the traveling troupe." Kumud said in surprise, "Why are you so agitated, Shashi? What so great an unfair thing have I done? I was drifting along aimlessly – you should be happy that I am getting married and becoming a householder." Kumud said, "You know my uncle has two Great Dane dogs?" "At first, I didn't either. When I left, who knew I would have to come back for her again!" "That's a good village girl." "Why, what fault has Moti committed?"

Shashi was taken aback, saying, "No. Didn't you find a girl in Bangladesh? If you enter your uncle's house, two dogs will devour you." Shashi's mind was half domestic, calculating, cautious – these big words annoyed him upon hearing them. Don't they know that people don't become exactly as you mold them? The development of the mind in the next attempt is unnatural, unpleasant. Doubt arises whether Kumud will have the patience to mold Moti into a strange being, devoid of individuality – even if he does, will he like the changed Moti? How will he mold her anyway? Education, music, painting – only these things can he teach her. What else can Kumud do? If Kumud doesn't even grant Moti her own identity, what value will she have as a complete, independent person? Kumud knows so much, yet he doesn't know that you can't mold a beloved into a person. Can't someone who can be taught and educated like a girl be placed in the seat of a beloved? That night, Shashi couldn't sleep for a long time. Kumud and Moti's marriage? How can this be allowed to happen? Kumud has always lived a carefree life; even though a temporary nest of love has appeared in it, it's hard to believe it will be permanent. Besides, Kumud will probably find Moti's foolishness and rural simplicity unbearable; it might not even take him six months. What will happen to Moti then? If Kumud suffers and abandons her, who will take responsibility for the innocent, simple girl's life filled with sorrow? It's in Kumud's nature to discard things once they are no longer interesting. Thinking about this, Shashi couldn't decide on anything. At one point, he realized that he didn't particularly like the love game between Moti and Kumud. The very idea of their marriage seemed absurd to him. If Kumud ruins Moti and leaves, Shashi's sorrow would be boundless, yet it felt as if nothing unusual had happened; what kind of relationship is possible between two people with such a vast difference? Their marriage is unreal, meaningless. Kumud said, "Shashi, do you think Moti will remain the same even after marriage? Won't I mold her into my ideal?"

I am accepting him like a diamond mined from the earth – I will cut, polish, grind, and make him shine. He has no shape of his own, that's why I am so eager to marry him. I will shape his mind. There is no other girl in the world who can be my companion, brother.

Is this the work of a friend, coming to his house and playing the game of love secretly with his sister? If there was a way, he would have sent Kumud away. But listening to Kumud's words, it doesn't seem like Moti has any hope in any direction. Moti's eager questions about Kumud, Moti's interest in going to Kolkata in the hope of seeing Kumud, all this now remains in Shashi's mind. Love? Has so much love awakened in Moti's heart for Kumud? Besides, perhaps it's not just love that fills Moti's heart – Kumud doesn't trust him, life is full of inconsistencies from the very beginning for Kumud. Shashi doesn't know what to do. His decision is final in this matter too. This marriage will only happen if he says so – he will have to convince Paran as well. Whatever Shashi wants to happen – he removes Kumud from this path. Let the eternal friendship end, let Kumud go and live his nomadic life – let Moti, the village girl, stay in the village. Even knowing that Moti will suffer forever, he will somehow make this marriage happen. If Moti leaves, Shashi will no longer have faith in Kumud's strength. Like a diamond in the mine, Moti is also a gem, it is possible to make her unique and radiant one day, but Kumud will not be able to do it. Kumud has the talent to see dreams of the future, but not the penance to make the dreams come true. He will bring lines of sorrow on Moti's smooth skin in two days. At this age, shame can be removed with a little smile on the lips. Moti's face seemed extraordinarily beautiful to Shashi today. He thought, perhaps Kumud was not wrong. Perhaps he will indeed make Moti incomparable in beauty and virtue one day. In the evening, Shashi got the opportunity to discuss this with Kusum. The moon had risen in the sky then. Standing in the shadow of the moonlight that had fallen on the roof of the house, after talking for a long time, Shashi said, 'There is a way, daughter.' Kusum said seriously, 'You love him like a younger sister, that's why you feel this way. People have such thoughts when giving away daughters and sisters.' 'If you do! If you do!'

With a suppressed voice, Kusum immediately burst into laughter, "Oh, if only things were that simple in this world, Chhotobabu! You'll just have to marry Moti! Your life won't be ruined, will it?" But Shashi didn't laugh. He said, "It's not a matter of laughter, Kusum. I'm truly thinking of giving her to Kumud." Then Shashi said, "If I marry Moti..." "What a brilliant idea!" Kusum exclaimed. "I can marry Moti." "How?" Kusum asked. "What will you say? Time is passing." Kusum said, "Moti's fate has brought her to Kumud Babu. She was about to lose her life after being beaten by some farmer while traveling." "Well, it's fate," "So, what does Moti say, Chhotobabu?" "Time is passing." Kusum sighed and said, "Why does my body feel this way when I'm with you, Chhotobabu?" "Body! Body! Don't you have a mind, Kusum?" Shashi felt a deep sadness, thinking that Kusum had fabricated this. He wanted to save Moti from Kumud's clutches by marrying her himself, and that's why Kusum had made up this story. "Tell me. He's not Kumud, everything in his life is an act." Still, in the moonlight, the night seemed to be dreaming of something today. It's hard to believe that Kusum's cunning would bring him so much suffering at such a time. But why is he standing there, why can't he leave? Who knows, perhaps the attraction of life's weariness and self-indulgent moments is so strong for him? Kumud might have run away, saying, "Go to hell, Kusum." Or perhaps, with his own joy, he might have transformed these crude moments into something extraordinary, like a moonlit night poem. "It would be wonderful to go somewhere with you on such a moonlit night, Chhotobabu." Shashi's mind burned with anger at Kusum. Where did that simple girl go, the one he had discovered in the Talban that morning and been delighted by? What clever wisdom, what perfect strategy Kusum had used to turn his mind around regarding Moti's marriage. He couldn't decide anything after thinking for two days, but in half an hour, Kusum easily resolved all the problems with two irrefutable arguments.

Near Kusum

Standing before Kusum, Mati became so indifferent to the good and bad aspects of the relationship that she effortlessly said, "So be it, then. Besides, what does Kusum say these days?" Paran keeps looking at Shashi with a kind of subdued, melancholic gaze. Silently, he seems to express something, like a mute animal. Shashi's discomfort has no bounds. No one in Haru Ghosh's family has given Shashi the responsibility of caring for the well-being of others, yet it seems he has taken it upon himself to always wish them well. But what good has he been able to do for them? It's not his fault, yet Kusum has become somehow distant because of it. Perhaps Paran is considering today that Mati's marriage was a mismatched and dangerous one, or perhaps Paran is agitated by the outcome of their unequal friendship, fearing that Shashi will do more harm than good. Paran had no joy in the marriage; he only consented after seeing Shashi's face. Be it a poor, rural household, Mati's elder brother, or Kumud's guru, Kumud has treated him with such arrogance and insult! Shashi also noticed this. His anger has not diminished. If Kumud can marry Mati, can't he respect Mati's grandfather? But he says nothing to Kumud. He only treats Paran with affection and respect in front of him, so that Kumud can learn from it. This effort of Shashi has not yielded any special results. Kumud has accepted Mati, showing immense disregard for her relatives. Paran's palm juice is burning in the field. Since Shashi has no time in the afternoon, Paran walks one and a half miles and sits with Shashi, compensating for the lost work. His broad, strong shoulders seem to sag with his fatigue. He says, "Why don't you send a letter, little brother?" Shashi, like a culprit, says, "You know, Paran, Kumud doesn't have the habit of writing letters. When he was in college, his father used to write to the superintendent of the hostel to get news of him." Shashi knows that Paran's face will light up and he won't blame him for anything. He will just look at him with a sad, worried face like a child who sees an incomprehensible mystery. For the tall, dependent, simple man, this matter has become very incomprehensible to Shashi's affectionate Paran.

Who would take their newlywed bride on an indefinite trip? Shashi knew there were no relatives of Kumu's who would do such a thing. He had hoped that Kumu would stay with his wife at Shashi's place for a few days. Then, he would arrange for Mati's upkeep and settle down in a city or village. Where did Kumu disappear to overnight with his sister? Cursing Kumu under his breath, Shashi said, "He'll come back, a letter will arrive. How could he not send word? He'll give some news today or tomorrow." "Where to! On a honeymoon! Mati is Gowdiya's daughter, Kumu has gone on a honeymoon with her." "Give me some money, Shashi." "So, he won't even let me know where he went, where he is, what's going on? My mother is crying over there. He's gone off with Mati after the wedding." Shashi, being a doctor, called Bindu to his room, made her show him her tongue, checked her heart, and examined her overall health. Then, shaking his head suspiciously, he said, "I couldn't understand anything, Bapu. The village doctor is giving her some medicine for her stomach, let her eat it for a few days, then we'll check again." He leaves. He will make Kumu happy however he can. Mati is different, he wants to see Paran become acquainted with the happiness that Kumu has brought to Mati's face and eyes. Shashi says, "I'll eat it. If I don't eat it by mouth, I'll tear it up and swallow it. If you die after coming to your father's house, Bindu, will I not be insulted if I'm there? Tell me!" Bindu starts crying. Crying, she says, "What can I do, Dada, I can't bear it, it burns inside me day and night." Bindu says, "Ugh, I won't take the medicine!" One day, Bindu said, "Dada, give me the key to the cupboard. I want to take a book." Shashi said, "There aren't many Bengali books in the cupboard. If you want to read books, I'll bring them from the city." "I'll read what's in the cupboard now, bring them from the city whenever you do!" Shashi's feet wouldn't move to go inside. Why was Bindu getting restless? Why was she getting restless? Sindhu couldn't say anything to her after arranging things. Still, Shashi didn't delay in guessing the matter. It was as if Bindu had eaten something in the evening, that's why she was getting restless now. Shashi's heart turned to ice.

The doctor, upon receiving such news, should not be standing there like a statue; Shashi understood this, yet he couldn't move for a moment. Bindu had taken poison. Does Bindu want to die? For Bindu's sake, Shashi wouldn't mind if this desire of his was fulfilled. Shashi knew what poison was in the cupboard. If Bindu had taken it in the evening, he could have saved him. But what's the point of saving him? Bindu is not a child; he has unattainable experiences in life. If he has chosen this extreme path to avoid the clutches of sorrow, should one interfere? Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Shashi passed through the vast courtyard and stood in the inner courtyard by the side of Kunda's room. Bindu was lying in his vomit, in a relaxed posture. Everyone in the house and many from the neighborhood were gathered around, crowding. Seeing Shashi, everyone started talking at once. Mukhar Kunda, overpowering everyone's voices, said, "Oh, Shashi da, look at what Bindu did." Shashi gave him the bunch of keys. He opened the cupboard, took out a book, and closed the cupboard again, not returning the key. He said, "The key will stay with me. You are a doctor, you see patients; you won't find me to open it if you need another book." That day, Shashi had gone to see patients in a village about five miles away. It was almost nine o'clock at night when he returned to the village. As soon as he reached the front of the house, he heard a commotion inside. The outer rooms were dark, no one was there. Only Sindhu was standing in the darkness, crying softly. Shashi, frightened, asked, "What happened, Sindhu?" She spoke so simply that Shashi had no doubt. Perhaps because he was distracted, he didn't even remember that there were four or five bottles in the medicine cupboard with 'poison' written in red on them. He might have remembered if he had noticed how Bindu had been looking at the medicine cupboard with eager, longing eyes for so many days. Kunda said, "Since the afternoon, the way Bindu started acting, Shashi da, this laughter, this crying, and now he's started singing again – it made us so afraid that our hands and feet turned to jelly. Do you know what he did?"

"Open your medicine cabinet," Bindu said. "It's all a mess – can't you spend two days straightening it out? I'm not leaving the house, call me if you need the key." The sharp smell of alcohol hit Shashi's nose, and he asked in bewilderment, "What's happened, Kundo?" Shashi said, "What to do with the mess? Open the bookcase key." Sindhu sobbed, "Mezda is dying, Dada." Shashi's mood was ruined by Bindu's words, but he wasn't angry. For days, Bindu didn't come out of his room – he locked himself inside day and night. He only came out when Shashi called him, took a dip in the pond, ate two helpings of rice with his head bowed, and then went back inside and locked himself away. He didn't respond to anyone, didn't even look at them. Three days later, for some reason, he came out of his room and spoke a few words to Kundo. But he couldn't mix with anyone. He spent his days as he had been living a solitary life since coming here. That night, Gopal had eaten his fill, and after spending the whole night in a drowsy state, his anger flared up the next morning. He scolded Shashi for not bringing Bindu. Unspoken, he shouted at Bindu to leave. What unfortunate girl, she won't have a place in Gopal's house at all. Shashi remained silent, Bindu locked himself in the room, he didn't make a sound. After making a ruckus in the house all morning, beating a servant, Gopal left with his umbrella under his arm. He said he was going to Kolkata because he couldn't show his face in the village. If he returns and finds Bindu in the house, Gopal will set the house on fire. It was the month of Chaitra. Shashi's palanquin moved from village to village in the scorching sun, and a hot wind blew with a 'huhu' sound. Inside the palanquin, Shashi spent his leisure time in a drowsy, heated state, lost in thought. He thinks about Bindu, he thinks about Kusum and Moti. There's nothing new to think about Kusum and Moti. Thinking about Bindu, he can't see the shoreline.

He himself brought Bindu back from Nandar's clutches – and now, he feels the weight of responsibility for her! There was quite a commotion in the village for a few days. Such a scandalous affair in the inner quarters of a respectable family – a man drinking, being rowdy, vomiting and passing out – people condemn it, but aren't entirely surprised. It's unimaginable that the daughter of a respectable family could be the heroine of such a disgusting incident. Those who weren't present to witness Bindu's drunken state die of curiosity – the eyewitnesses find it a delightful experience to recount the details to everyone. Shashi moves around with unnecessary busyness, completing his duties. He has seen the patient as a relative, as a friend of the family for so long, offering comfort along with the medicine. Now, he taps the patient's pulse with a serious expression, and flares up at the slightest provocation. He has no patience for repeating anything more than once. There was no need to hear anything more. Shashi went and sat down with Bindu. Seeing the pulse, he said to Kunda, "Why couldn't you clean her up and take her to her room?" Bindu was made to take a bath by Shashi. Then, with the help of several people, she was carried and put to bed. Kunda also explained, "She bites when we try to hold her!" Shashi said, "There's no time to waste, Kunda. Bring a pitcher of water."

That's the thing. Because of the disgraceful act that Bindu has committed, making people laugh, an unspeakable infamy is spreading from village to village, and Shashi feels guilty. It's his fault. Whatever he takes responsibility for, it backfires. It's as if an invisible, formidable force is constantly working against him. He was the favorite of Rupasi Sennidur, and now, to avoid Kurupa Sennidur, he has to disrespect himself. He had become close to the family. And on the very day he was supposed to take over as their guardian, he recognized Kusum's heart and ruined Moti's future. Now, this is what has happened with Bindu. He had imagined so many things when he went to bring Bindu back!

– Gradually, Bindu's mind will be healed, and in the peaceful embrace of the village, her peace of mind will return. With his affectionate care, the widowed woman will gradually find as much joy and happiness in life as possible. He will create a wonderful inner world for her, teaching her to read and think. Shashi no longer understands how far off that seems today. Shashi suffers when he thinks, yet it is true that Bindu drank that day only for intoxication, for no other reason. Perhaps it was to soothe her toothache with cloves that she swallowed that thing, and now Bindu cannot do without alcohol. Besides, it's not just the addiction to alcohol, but also the extraordinary life that Nand has given her for seven years, with its excitement, that has become indispensable to Bindu. Her immense, perverted longing is not only for Nand, but for the shameful indulgence, the music, and the frenzy. The monotonous, subdued, and dull life of the village is unbearable to Bindu. What can Bindu do? Should she go back to Nand? There's no point in that either. Even if she returns to the perverted, habitual life for which Bindu is yearning, her problems will not be solved. This extraordinary life has created habits in Bindu's body, so even the slightest reform of a housewife is impossible for her. If she cannot spend her days in that restless, shameless state, she will not be able to live, but that will also bring her unbearable suffering from shame, sorrow, and remorse. Along with the insatiable thirst for alcohol, Bindu has such a deadly hatred for alcohol that at the end of the intoxication, she falls into self-loathing. Bindu's shame is broken. A meager courage, like that of a cornered, timid animal, has awakened in her. She gets up in the middle of the night, pushes open the door, and wakes Shashi, asking for sleeping pills and remedies for her headache. In the silent night, her thin, trembling body and the dark thirst in her burning eyes agitate Shashi. He cannot make her understand. Bindu doesn't listen to anything – like an incomprehensible child, she keeps asking for sleeping pills. Bindu says, "I'm dead, where will I find the strength?" Shashi says, "Don't you have a little strength, Bindu?" Shashi says, "Lie still quietly, sleep will come, the headache will lessen." Bindu cries, "No, give me sleeping pills, I can't bear this pain."

Bindu took the sleeping pills in the medicine glass and fell asleep instantly. Shashi sat up silently, awake. He didn't care how many mosquitoes were biting him. Shashi thought, why is he so helpless, so powerless? Why does he have to serve the man he brought here for peace in the middle of the night? Bindu said, "Love is like a book, sir. If the author doesn't come, how can I understand staying there otherwise? Let's not be unnecessarily anxious, imagining liberation this time. Maybe this time my mind will settle. Maybe this time I will be very happy." Gopal returned after living in Calcutta for ten days. He didn't say anything lofty to Bindu, it seemed he had forgiven Bindu's transgression of that day. Shashi recognized him, and Gopal remained calm, only a little worried. Shashi had locked the bottle of brandy in a box, he didn't dare put it in the cupboard. It wouldn't be impossible for Bindu to break the glass and take the bottle in the absence of a key. He looked at the plundered Bindu for a while. Then he said, "Give it up, I'm giving it to you." Shashi prepared a medicine and gave it to him. Bindu threw the medicine on the floor. Shashi grabbed his foot and said, "Give it, give me some good medicine. Give me some good medicine, please?" It seemed as if it was time to say goodbye, so Bindu looked towards the village after such a long time, he met with relatives. It is natural for Bindu to be hesitant to be intimate with everyone after that incident. If Bindu has to leave, there is no harm in it happening tomorrow. Bindu told Shashi the words right then. Bindu smiled a little. "It was seen suddenly, on the way!" - Gopal didn't even look. Shashi became a little annoyed, unable to understand Gopal's mental process. A few days passed without incident. Then one morning, Gopal called Shashi and said, "I met Nand, Shashi." Shashi said, "If I had known that, I wouldn't have brought Bindu. I only suffered, and Nand remained angry, there was no point." "Bindu has been here for many days, Nand is angry with him, Shashi, send him away in two or four days," he said. Shashi said, "I can." Gopal insisted, "If you are asked to send him away, can you keep him?" "Tomorrow is a good day, I will send him off tomorrow." "Okay, sir, that's good."

Shashi asked clearly, "When asked to send her, didn't you infer from my words? It should have been done. I remember feeling that Bindu was surprised to see her sudden, unrestrained familiarity with everyone after she had thrown up in the courtyard of this house one day in front of everyone. She sat in Kundar's lap in the kitchen for a long time, talking and even laughing with everyone. It was as if she had returned to her father's house after living a simple and ordinary married life in her husband's home for a long time – there was no shame in her life, no abnormality – just pure joy in her heart. Well, Moti could have written a letter in her crooked letters, couldn't she? Why didn't she write? Doesn't she have time to play with Kumud? Kumud has that power – she can make a person self-absorbed. Besides, perhaps, like Kumud describes, Moti has forgotten the world in the same overwhelming joy of meeting as she describes? Shashi smiled slightly. She had started to think of Moti as a novel's heroine, and she is not a little imaginative. Pure girls from the neighborhood came to see Bindu. Many of them have seen Bindu vomiting. Bindu is even more mysterious to them than the fairies in the sky. A long time ago, she once stunned the village, and this time too, she has done the same. Again, she is returning to her unknown, mysterious exile, their village girl Bindu. Kusum and Paran also came. Kusum quietly said to Bindu, "Hey, what a laughing sister?" The next day, Shashi left with Bindu for Kolkata. They spent the day and night on the way, talking very little. Who would have thought that Bindu would have to be returned like this? The bed, the table, the tabla cushions, and the room decorated with grotesque pictures in Bindu's house floated in Shashi's mind. She thought, there was a bottle of poison labeled next to the bottles in her almirah, why didn't Bindu drink the poison? It's been two months, that's why. She couldn't look at Paran's face! It's been two months since Moti left the village, and not a single piece of news has come, not even asking for money. If she meets Kumud, she will have to explain. She will have to make him understand how irresponsible and reckless he is. It was almost ten o'clock when they reached Bindu's house. The doorman greeted Bindu very respectfully, and Bindu's maid smiled slyly.

Nand came, Nand came, the shameless, uninhibited Nand. With a smiling face, he welcomed Shashi and said, "Come, come, you are welcome to arrive." Shashi said, "I will. Didn't the month of Baishakh pass? Paran said he would attend the Kumud Saraswati opera in Baishakh. I don't know the address of the group, but I don't think it will be difficult to find them." "If you get the news, Chhotobabu, bring Moti along." "It's been two months, the boy is probably causing trouble." Bindu said, "I will go to the groom's place, brother!" - He smiled faintly on his gaunt face. Paran said to Shashi, "You will search for Moti, Chhotobabu?" "Otherwise, I won't come, son." "When will you come again?" "Once you leave with him, what if you abandon me like last time? You know, Shashi, I don't like all this fuss in my old age. How comfortably I was here, - no crowd, no noise, complete freedom in everything. If I don't like that, let it be where I like to stay - what is it to me? I am a working man, I stay with my work." Shashi went to the same hotel where he had stayed with Kusum last time. Shashi remembers that Moti was eagerly waiting here in the hope of meeting Kumud. Moti? Just a little girl, Moti? What magic does Kumud know, the ruthless, nomadic Kumudnand thought, it would be good if Shashi came. "I am thinking of taking her to her mother's house tomorrow - the house where they live. I will sell this house. It might be a little embarrassing to be in the midst of new people, it would be nice if you went and saw her. It will help her settle in." Shashi had stopped. This time he got into the car. Bindu did not request him to stop again, he just said, "If you have time before returning to the village, please take the news with you once." Bindu went inside. Shashi's car started moving, the driver stopped and came to Nand. Shashi felt that Nand had become very thin, he had lost weight, there were signs of sleeplessness in his eyes. Nand could not answer immediately. Then, like a child, he said, "How would I know beforehand that he would run away? I used to see him laughing a lot." In the end, Shashi said nothing. This discussion with Nand is not worth it. "I probably won't be able to bring the news?" - Nand asked. Shashi said, "I can't come, Nand. I have work." Bindu pleaded, "Won't you sit down for a while, grandfather?" "How can I say?"

"There might not be any time," said Shashi. Shashi, surprised, said, "Will Bindu be taken home?" "Bindu has work." "Why didn't you think of this wisdom before, Nand?" The voice came closer, and who knows with what affection in his eyes, Shyam said, "You don't have a son, do you know? There was a daughter, I am her father, yet I say, in looks and hearing, my daughter was no match for me, sir – the one who is called the true golden one. I thought of marrying her off to Kumud, what's the point of marriage now – it's utterly futile. That's why I had to give my daughter to a dacoit in Keshtanagar, and when they killed my daughter with torture, my heart was broken. Since then, I have no interest in the world – I have formed a group, and when someone calls, I just run errands – nothing pleases me, sir. I am half-dead in grief, whether Kumud marries or not, he has drowned me – there is not a drop of compassion in that wretch. If I were him, I couldn't have broken the neck of a grieving man and run away – I couldn't. What is that wretch Kumud like?" The next day, Shashi searched for Kumud. At a theater costume shop, he got the address of the Binodini Opera, but no one could give Shashi the address of the Saraswati Opera. Kumud had said that his connection with the Binodini Opera was broken, and it was doubtful whether searching there would be fruitful. Still, Shashi met Adhikari on the second floor of a house in Chitpur in the evening. Adhikari, in surprise and emotion, just shook his head for a while. Then, becoming even more intimate, he said, "Let me tell you openly, sir, Kumud has become a mess since he left. Khasa used to say, 'I have been in this line for twenty years, I have never seen such a thing.' If you meet him, tell him to take the money and come, and work, Adhar Mallik is not an old, rusty pot to be discarded. He demands ten or twenty rupees more than his worth, have I ever said I won't give it? What is that wretch Kumud like?" Adhikari said, "If you meet him, you will ask once, won't you, whether this is the work of a gentleman's son? Well, there's no point in asking all that, the gentleman will again say with arrogance that Adhar Mallik doesn't care for two or four hundred rupees. What was the need to run away, sir? If you wanted, I would have given you that much money too – you have been in my group for three years, I have become fond of you like a son." For a few days, Shashi searched for Kumud in several more groups, but no trace was found.

Many patients had arrived, and Shashi didn't have the means to stay in Kolkata for long. He decided he would return to Gaudiya the next day. He felt that the rest of his life would be spent searching for Moti in Kolkata, and it wouldn't be enough. This deep longing to return to the village surprised Shashi that night. Shashi's room was on the upper floor. Many night-time insomnia sufferers said, "Kumud? We've been looking for him too, sir, for months. He left with Vanta three months ago with advance payment. Two days ago, there was a bayna at the Rajbari in Shripur, and he completely drowned, sir." The landlord, with angry eyes, looked intently at Shashi, "What calamity has befallen him, pray tell? Why are you searching for Kumud here of all places?" Shashi was walking as he spoke. The landlord asked, "Will you meet Kumud?" Shashi smiled slightly, "What's the point of saying that? Can you tell me the address of the Saraswati Opera?" "Saraswati Opera? I haven't even heard of it." Shashi said, "Then I can't say. It's possible." He was sitting by the window on the edge of the veranda. There was less foot traffic on the street then, and the shops were closed. He had to return to the village tomorrow. He spends his days imagining a broader, more expansive life after leaving the village, and already the situation has arisen that he cannot stay outside for even a week. Remembering one by one those who had come to him suffering from cholera, smallpox, dysentery, typhoid, and many other small and large diseases, he felt that his resolve to stay in Kolkata for even one more day without reason seemed foolish and barbaric to him. What kind of bond is this, what kind of slavery? Shashi gets angry. He will not accept this responsibility, what kind of ethics is this? He will return to the village within a month - is he the owner of people's lives and deaths? When he was in the village, what did the villagers do when he hadn't passed his medical exams three years ago? They still do the same. Shashi doesn't know anything.

SHARADARS BANGALORE had lit his pipe, and Nandar's hand trembled like a snake as he spoke absentmindedly, 'I've never seen such a stubborn man, Shashi. He throws away what I say with a laugh. He doesn't know how to stay calm in his anger, he's all over the place. But I'm telling you the truth, Shashi, in the end, he took me along, he didn't let me stop. Of course, I didn't say all this before, I didn't understand well then, Shashi. It's different now, since Gaudia left.' Shashi no longer felt like meeting Bindu. In the afternoon of the day of his departure, he unexpectedly overcame his reluctance and arrived at Nand's house. Nand's house was there. Bindu? No, Bindu hadn't been brought to this house yet. Shashi's promise not to return to the village for a month didn't last more than two days. The helpless, distressed patients in this village and that village needed his attention. 'I'm so eager to bring him back here, what more can I tell you? I'm telling you again and again, why, let's go to that house now, he'll stay with everyone mixed together.' Khoka's mother has been bedridden for a year, and her only son, Nandar, has gone away, Shashi said, 'Did you tell Bindu, Nand, to come here?' 'Won't he come? It's not unexpected.' Still, Shashi seemed to be extinguished. 'I told him. He won't come.' Shashi said, 'It's time to go to that house, Nand. I'm going home today, the car at seven.' Nand is a gentleman, and he too coughed today, pretending to smoke. Nand said, 'He was getting ready to go to that house. He'll see you, come with me.' 'Leaving today? Sit down, have some tea.' Saying, 'You're sweating in the heat,' Nand himself took off his son's shirt to give to Shashi. Shashi was surprised. What inconsistency between Nand and Nandar's atmosphere? Is there peace in this masculine pride of his? Do waves of happiness and joy rise and fall in this confined world of the house? Did Atashsari hope that even if he couldn't stay at Gaudia's house, Bindu could stay at Nandar's house as a housewife? He was greatly relieved to hear that Bindu hadn't come. He was a little surprised to see Nandar's house. He had never been here before, he had no idea that Nandar's home had such a clear and pleasant atmosphere of domesticity. The heavy, solid furniture of that time, the expensive thick curtains on the doors and windows, the huge oil paintings on the walls, all such home furnishings gave this room an extraordinary solemnity.

Perhaps not so much difference in the heart – the soft voice and laughter reached Shashi's ears, – he felt the existence of a large, happy family within. Then, one day, a well-dressed boy, about seven or eight years old, came and stood rubbing Nandar's body after seeing Shashi. What beautiful, curious eyes he had! And what affection in Nandar's eyes. Shashi didn't like anything – neither the village nor the villagers. The sleep was broken by the sound of drums in the last night. Then, from the time the silence of the evening arrived until the birds began to chatter on the branches of the banyan tree by the side of the Kaetpar road, all the strange sounds of wild and domestic life that came to Shashi's ears were covered by the rhythmic sound of the night watchman's hammer and the deep cough of Gopal. In the house, men and women laughed, cried, and quarreled; outside, groups of young and old played cards and chatted, farmers and laborers, potters and shopkeepers, all idle, hoping that Shashi would bring news from Kolkata. He had returned, and hearing that, he had run to meet him. Shashi couldn't look up. Paran also sat quietly for a while and then left. That was in the morning. Then Kusum came in the afternoon. She said, "Why, thinking he was dying, did someone secretly take my sister away? She has gone with her husband. What need is there for so much thinking day and night? – What did you bring for me?" "That will be, maybe," he said, but didn't say it in the end. But if he didn't say it, why didn't he bring anything? Shashi said in surprise, "What did you ask me to bring? When did you ask?" "A joke? With you? You wouldn't do such a thing if you had any sense!" "Why do you blame me so much for not telling you to bring it?" "For you? I didn't bring anything, sister." The number of people who have the most respectable professions of incompetence can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Seeing the oily, shining head of the manager in the red light of Srinath's shop, Shashi looked at the stars and the moonlight in the night sky and was ashamed! In Bagdipara, some returned soldiers broke each other's heads in the middle of the night, and the bandages on Shashi's hands were opened in the jail hospital. Sudeb grows up saying that Moti's marriage is a lie, a deception – merely a trick by Shashi to get Moti to talk. – Do you know how much money Bhadrapana has taken for marrying Moti, little brother?

Perhaps Shashi has hidden Moti somewhere in Bajitpur, or perhaps elsewhere – in a village where there is no Shashi, where does one go to see a patient, and who else but Sudeb would understand his meaning! On a dark night, eight or ten boys from the Goyalpara neighborhood once poured two or three buckets of cow dung and sludge on Shashi – cow dung is readily available in Goyalpara. The next day, upon hearing that Gopal's Gomasta had gone to the Sadar to file a complaint for the remaining money, the head of Goyalpara, Bipin, came and started crying – he brought several innocent boys and pulled their ears, and slapped them on the nose. That didn't satisfy him. "What will you do with glass eyes, Shashi! You are a quack, Shashi, what do you know about treatment? I see that what the master says is not false. You treated my eye and ruined it. Are you trying to fool me with glass eyes today? You wretch, you unfortunate one, you die, you die!" Sendidi has started a new tirade against Shashi. Since Shashi recently restored the eyesight of an old man in the village by removing a cataract, Sendidi has not left him alone. He says, "Oh Shashi, give it to me, give it, whatever you do with cutting and grinding and medicine, give me my eye back."

Shashi grabs his hand and slaps him – "Everyone says I am a quack, I am not like that, Shashi. Oh father, I am a quack!" Shashi, after considering, says, "Sendidi, will you take a glass eye, a fake eye? You won't see clearly with it, but it will look like your real eye, people won't easily notice." "Then what's the point, Sendidi? To stand still like a thief in the dark, in a state of flight? Nowadays, he has taken on a special role in his acting. The red fire of the lamp suddenly disappears somewhere, and a little later, Gopal's voice is heard inside." Sendidi says anxiously, "You will cure it by cutting and grinding, Shashi, I am not blind, am I? Where has all your affection for me gone, father?" Shashi remains silent. How much Sendidi loved him, how much he trusted him. Still, Shashi is not surprised. He knows very well that the foundation of affection and love is whimsical, like bubbles. Shashi says, "Your eye is damaged, Sendidi, it cannot be cured."

A few days later, Sendidi says, "Yes, Shashi, if you get glass eyes, won't people be able to tell? The more days that pass, the stronger the imagination of starting a new life in a new world, leaving the village, becomes in Shashi's mind. He has realized that unless he forces himself, he will never be free from this narrow confinement. If he continues to postpone for the future, life will end, and he will still not have achieved the future. Besides, to bring about the grand and delightful festival in life that he desires, it is not enough to just leave the village; he will have to forget the emotional bonds with relatives and friends. If the waves of happiness and sorrow of their limited, narrow lives agitate him like the ebb and flow of a river, how will he get the strength to build a new life? The way he wants to live in that confinement is like a revolution in his personal life. He will have to bring about this revolution alone, and then he will have to live alone in the newly created world – there is no place for them there. If he remains anxious, thinking about Bindu, if Kusum secretly cries, and if Mati has disappeared, if he gets frustrated thinking about not being able to shape the Sindhu according to his heart's desire, when will he arrange his own life, when will he do his own work?"

"To bring meaning to life, those whose company is restless, those he doesn't want near him, must be ruthlessly removed from his mind!" Sendidi does not hesitate to say this, nor does she feel any remorse! She has so many claims on Shashi. First, Shashi gets angry. Then he laughs to himself. "Tell me, when will I be able to go? Can't you see how busy I am with the patients? There is doubt about whether I will be able to go before the puja, and who will I go with?" "Sendidi says, crying, "Who do I have, Shashi, who will take me? If I die, everyone will be happy, who will make all this fuss for me? Take me with you once in a while, father, get my eyes fixed." "Sendidi was angry about the glass eyes that day, but look at her interest today! Shashi says calmly, "I can't, Sendidi, I don't have the equipment. I don't even know if it will be done in Bajitpur. It will have to be done in Kolkata, it will take a lot of time. It may have to be matched with your good eye to make the eye."

"Even the medicine to remove the blemish on his face has to be applied by Shashi. If two days pass without it, he comes and complains, 'Why isn't the blemish going away? What kind of medicine are you applying?' 'It's not easily available. Once you realize it, what comes over you? It won't show that it's bad for his eye now, will it?' 'Shashi says in a tired voice, 'It will go, it will go, how quickly does a spring blemish go away?' 'There's no pretense, no apology for the scolding of that day, just a straightforward question, 'When will you apply the eye medicine?' 'When will you take him to Kolkata?' 'Shashi never understands Yadav well. He is a detached, indifferent man, doesn't accept anyone's salutations, remains unmoved by flattering words, how many people are eager to become his disciples, he hasn't taken a single disciple to this day.' 'Still, Shashi feels that Yadav desires salutations.' 'He doesn't offer blessings, doesn't give blessings, ignores devotion like a stone deity - Shashi suspects these are tactics to instill fear and respect in people's minds.' 'But what does it amount to?' 'The habit of being considered to possess supernatural powers by people, along with forty years of peace and happiness.' 'A non-greedy, virtuous, peaceful, innocent man, the desire to be considered to possess otherworldly power by people is not for any worldly gain.' 'It's like a hobby for Yadav, a whim.' 'Yadav says, 'So that won't happen, will it?' 'To be detached, one needs detachment in the mind. I came to live in this village at the age of twenty-two, no one knows where I came from, what my background is. I had everything - Shashi - house, family, friends - I haven't kept track of anyone for forty years. My parents have died, I didn't even get the news, didn't perform the shraddha. I had several siblings, I don't know if they are alive or dead. So there's no sorrow for Shashi. When building a new house, do you have to tear down the old thatched one? 'Forty years of peace and happiness!' Who knows what kind of life Yadav had in which village? What greed for what did he leave home at the age of twenty-two? Was this life of a householder still desirable for Yadav, a position above everyone in the fear and respect of ten villages? If so, then it must be said that he has achieved unparalleled success in life. He has made a name for himself as a Siddha Purush all around, everyone is eager for his blessings. Yadav catches the father, Shashi notices and sees the father's face, a little dull and dirty, like a shadow next to the sun."

Shashi's belief in solar science and his extraordinary abilities was nurtured with such care by Yadab Paitar that he immersed that part of his life in thin, water-mixed ink so that it wouldn't be easily understood. Shashipagal didi cut and gave Shashi a mango, sitting him down in front of an open book, Yadab wrapped the thick, white sacred thread around his fingers. Shashi had never seen this symbol of twice-born status so tainted. Yadab smiled under Shashi's gaze, "The thread never gets dirty, Shashi, it's only the sun." Yadab said in a serious voice, "Don't be surprised if you don't believe in solar science, otherwise it's trivial. Does the thread that a solar scientist knows ever get dirty? What can I do? Take a bath and sit in the sun once a day, it becomes spotlessly white. It was missed a bit today, see how dirty it is." - "Wouldn't it be troublesome at first?" - Shashi says. "No. I've given up on that, Shashi. It would have been troublesome for a few days. Human nature is like that, they forget in two days. Didn't I stop because I couldn't bear it? 'Solar science?' - Shashi says in astonishment. Pagal didi laughs and says, "Are we happy and peaceful here, aren't we?" "It doesn't get dirty?" Yadab says, "How many times have I told you, learn, Shashi, learn, at least learn the role of solar science, you don't have to carry a box of medicine and see patients. You didn't even learn that. It's not the art of giving to whomever you want, it's a science. I haven't found a single student in my entire life whom I could teach. Time has passed by. Only you can learn a little, Shashi, not everything, you don't have the capacity to take it all, just the role. That's why you get angry, that's why you're still called a celibate." To suppress the words, Shashi brings up another topic. He says, "You know, Panditmoshai, I'm leaving, but sometimes I'm afraid. If I just wanted to practice medicine in the city, there was no problem, I wouldn't have thought such big things! I'll go abroad, come back and live in Kolkata, do new research on the diseases of the human body and mind, make a name for myself in the country and abroad, earn money." When Shashi asks when Yadab will pass away, it's fixed, Yadab suddenly becomes so frighteningly still and Pagal didi makes such an indistinct sound that Shashi feels ashamed. In the throes of disbelief, excited and carelessly, he shouldn't have said those words to Yadab.

Yadav knew that Shashi would not stay in the village for more than six months of the year. Yet, if he fell ill and died during that time, and Shashi had to come to treat him, even in death, the poor fellow would have no peace. Shashi listened in astonishment as Yadav occasionally said such things, neither believing them nor protesting. The pungent aroma of Yadav's incense filled the room as he came to beg for a donation. Why did he tell her such unbelievable stories? Was she Srinath Mudi, who would foam at the mouth upon hearing them? Yadav hooked his finger and opened it. His eyes blazed. Perhaps the timid villagers were afraid of Yadav. Looking into such radiant eyes, it was impossible for anyone to dare disbelieve him. He even managed to make her laugh and be amazed. Why was Yadav making such desperate efforts to impress her? Even if she disbelieved in his supernatural powers, she couldn't help but respect Yadav. Just as Yadav used to talk about solar science, now he spoke of his own imagination. He said, "What is impossible for one who knows solar science? The past and future are reflected in his palm. Nothing that will happen in life, even ten or twenty years from now, remains unknown to him. He can even know the day of his death ten or twenty years in advance." "Don't you know?" "I have known for twenty years." Perhaps this was the reason for Yadav's excessive interest in conquering Shashi. "You know?" Shashi asked. Yadav immediately replied, "I will die on the day of the Ratha Yatra, Shashi." Shashi had not yet imagined that the matter would become so significant. Otherwise, she would have called Srinath and told him that Yadav had said he would die on the day of the Ratha, but it was some other Ratha Yatra, not the upcoming one. Shashi was going to Bajitpur for a difficult operation to admit a patient to the hospital. The patient's condition was very pathetic. Shashi was lost in thought, wondering whether it would be a great misfortune if the patient passed away on the way before arrangements could be made to take him to the hospital. Shashi had a close relationship with the government doctor in Bajitpur. He had recently been transferred. He didn't let Shashi return that day. The next day, returning to the village, Shashi was surprised to see a crowd of people on the way to Kaetpar. Many people were gathered in front of Yadav's dilapidated house.

Jadab has come out and is sitting outside, and everyone is scolding him for the mud on his feet. Srinath is crying loudly in a clear voice. That's how it all begins. Shashi knows what Jadab had said about giving up his life on the day of the Ratha Yatra, but it was just idle talk. Suddenly, he comes out of nowhere. Shashi doesn't know why he told this story to Paran while going to Haru Ghosh's house. Perhaps to tell it to Kusum. He has developed a habit of telling Kusum these kinds of strange things he witnesses, under the pretense of telling Paran. Turning that way, Shashi went inside the house. The girls had started coming in groups, and Pagoldidi hadn't opened the door. At Shashi's knocking, she opened the door and said, "Oh Shashi, why are you causing such trouble for me, why are you talking nonsense?" Srinath said, "You're talking nonsense, Chhotobabu, otherwise, how will you feed yourself by just saying 'rotali'? You're saying that you'll give up your life on the day of the Ratha Yatra, Chhotobabu, you've uttered the word 'deity' with your own mouth!" And then, how the news spread! It spread to every corner of the village. Who knew that the meaningless thing Jadab had said to Shashi at Jhonker's head would cause such a stir in the village? "You yourself have said it, Srimukh. People are coming from far and wide, Chhotobabu, after hearing the news. Shetalbabu is wandering around in this frenzy." Shashi was getting ready to go to Bajitpur when Srinath came running. "Is it true, Chhotobabu, the deity will give up his life?" Shashi said with a pale face, "I didn't say that, Pagoldidi." Someone told Shashi, "The Pandit said that the deity will give up his life on the day of the Ratha Yatra, Chhotobabu." "The day of the Ratha Yatra? Who said this?" Shashi said, "Are you mad, Srinath? Haven't you said it jokingly?" "Oh, disaster!" Saying this, Srinath ran off in a hurry. Shashi said, "He has said it, but who knows what..." The noise from outside was coming in, and Shashi closed the door. The whole thing seemed incomprehensible to Shashi. It's not entirely surprising that there is such a public outcry about Jadab, sometimes many strange things are said about him. Why did Jadab support it? Jadab is not mad, he's not crazy. Srinath came with a group of people and fell at Kadia's feet, and without considering anything, Jadab admitted that he would voluntarily die on the day of the coming Ratha Yatra.

Didn't you consider the consequences of such a confession? Who knows what will happen this time if Yadav doesn't die on the day of the chariot? He'll have to live as a liar in the eyes of the people; his authority, his power, will be gone. He has no other support to survive than the blind faith of the people. Why did Yadav accept this? It's just a public rumor, baseless gossip! Who would disbelieve Yadav? The day of the chariot isn't far off. How will Yadav die that day? And if he doesn't, how will he show his face in the village? After a long time, a tired Yadav came in for rest. A few devotees also came in with him. Shashi roughly pushed them out and closed the main door. In the crowd and the heat, Yadav was drenched in sweat and pale. Pagoldi quickly brought a fan and started fanning him. The eternal smile on his face had disappeared. His two eyes, filled with water and old age, were subdued. "I told you, Boudi. I told you about this chariot too. Why are you so agitated, Shashi? Do I have any distinction between life and death? The difference that existed when I mastered astronomy by the grace of the Guru, the day I achieved Siddhi, that difference has disappeared, Shashi. If you even consider it that way, haven't I reached the age to die?"

Pagoldi said, "Srinath came with a group of people and scolded Shashi, saying, 'Did you hear him say it with your own ears about the day of the chariot?' - Shashi remembered that night. Yadav, returning from Calcutta, had come home poking with a stick, fearing snakes from Srinath's shop. Where did that fearful tenderness of life go in Yadav?" Shashi, anxious, said, "Why did you do that? What madness is this! Couldn't Panditmoshai tell you not to say it about this chariot?" "About this chariot? I didn't say anything, Pagoldi. Did Panditmoshai confess?" "What did Panditmoshai do? Why did he confess?" Shashi asked anxiously. "It happened because of me, Panditmoshai. What I feel..." "Who said that? He accepted it with a smile. What will happen this time?" "Why did I do it? I will die on the day of the chariot. Didn't I tell you?" Yadav replied calmly. "You didn't tell me about this chariot, did you?" Pagoldi insisted. Yadav smiled and said, "Basanshi Jiranani."

Through persistent questioning throughout the day, Shashi managed to understand, without any resistance, why Yadab had accepted the crowd's demands. The news had spread like wildfire in the village. Many of the devotees knew that Yadab had been trying to make Shashi his disciple for a long time, and they had resented Shashi for this good fortune. Yesterday, Kusum had excitedly and busily reported that she had gone to pay her respects to the madwoman after taking a bath and had overheard her saying that she would die on the day of the Ratha Yatra, and that Yadab was pressuring Shashi to accept discipleship quickly. There were many other things circulating as well. Still, Yadab might have had a way to deny the crowd's demand. What Shashi had told Srinath before going to Bajitpur had become Yadab's biggest problem. People don't easily believe Shashi. Besides, people know him as Yadab's favorite. Still, if Shashi had been in the village, Yadab might have sent for him before admitting it, saying, "Listen, Shashi, to what they are saying." But he couldn't be found. He had stirred up a commotion in the village and left. Despite many arguments and requests, Shashi couldn't convince Yadab. He didn't admit that he had spoken about the upcoming Ratha Yatra. Shashi had not done any harm. If the news hadn't spread, he would surely have died on the day of the Ratha Yatra. If Shashi had caused Yadab any inconvenience by stirring up the crowd, it was only that people were burning with resentment, and nothing more. What is the reason for this calm melancholy regarding death? Has he made a terrible mistake regarding Yadab? Is there really any supernatural power that people talk about that Yadab possesses? Perhaps a few books of medical and philosophical knowledge are not enough to judge such matters, or perhaps his disbelief is simply the darkness of ignorance that Yadab feels in his mind. He looks intently at Shashi's face, and Shashi feels as if a life caught in a trap has suddenly seen a small gap in the fence. Then, composing himself, Yadab shakes his head. "Couldn't you have postponed it? Why didn't you tell everyone that you have a lot of work to do, so you postponed the day for a couple of years for consideration?" "Did I tell him that he would know? The time has come, so I told you in passing."

Otherwise, we would have simply said goodbye on the day of leaving." "That's not it either," Jyoti quickly added. "It is forbidden to use the power gained from yoga to circumvent God's will, Shashi." "Didn't that crazy woman know anything?" "So what, Shashi? It has been settled for twenty years." "Won't you relent at all, Panditji?" "People will laugh at Shashi, they will criticize him." Wherever Shashi goes, he hears this being discussed. Many are not sorry that Yadava will die, they are waiting for the day of the chariot procession. Shashi has to remain silent. There is no way to reveal the whole affair built on a lie with a bare face. He is the source of this public opinion, but he does not have the power to change this rumor. This spark has ignited a fire in the dry straw, no one has the power to extinguish the fire. Shashi realizes a strange helplessness. Today, for the first time, he understands how much an inevitable blind, cruel force the combined opinion of people with whom he has no daily contact can become. A few days passed. People from near and far villages filled the path to the cremation ground to see Yadava, the great man of the Kali Yuga who had wished for death. Srinath and Lochan, selling puffed rice, probably became very important people. Srinath, with puffed rice in both hands, takes money in both hands and puts it in a wooden box, constantly sighing. Within a few days, Pagaldidi became emaciated. A heavy pressure is also on Shashi's mind. He cannot understand what will happen on the day of the chariot procession. Can Yadava really leave his body that day with the strength of his mind? This is unbelievable. What will be the condition of Yadava if he does not die? Shashi can make some guesses. Yadava remembered what he had told Shashi about dying on the day of the chariot procession. He also remembered how much the villagers believed in Shashi's words. Thinking that Shashi was not in the village, he thought that if he now denied that he had told Shashi that he would die on the upcoming chariot day, as soon as Shashi returned to the village, everyone would question him about this. Perhaps, unable to be patient, someone would run to Bajitpur to meet Shashi and come back. Shashi would not understand the importance of the matter, he would say the same thing again that he had said once.

People will then think, either Shashi is a liar - or Yadab himself. Shashi sits in Yadab's house, observing Yadab's demeanor. It seems as if Yadab is overwhelmed, consumed by some intense intoxication. The whole affair seems to be becoming increasingly enjoyable for him. He comes inside to rest for a while, then goes back outside and sits before the visitors, his face like a fountain. Who knows what else Yadab might have been thinking. Perhaps, not understanding the nature and extent of the power behind the public's fervor, Yadab was afraid that opposing it would destroy what he held dear in life. Perhaps the collective enthusiasm of the people had intoxicated Yadab. He has no time to think. Then, fearing the erosion of the extraordinary devotion of the people he has cultivated throughout his life, and in a desire to conceal some of this devotion, Yadab has gone with the flow of public opinion. "Are you feeling unwell, son? That's why you're acting strangely," Shashi said to Kusum. "Why are you lying, son?" Kusum said, "I just felt like saying it, that's all." Perhaps Shashi didn't realize the true meaning of suggesting he go to Puri. After much consideration, he has discovered this solution to Yadab's problem. Whether Yadab goes to Puri or not, the country is vast. He can be happy and live in an unknown land among strangers, even if he doesn't die on the day of the Ratha Yatra. Yadab cannot be clearly made to understand this. He is maintaining the pretense even with Shashi. He hints, "Take the madwoman with you to Puri, Panditji, along with your belongings – the villagers are causing you so much trouble! You're not getting any peace in your final days. No one will be under your control there." The madwoman, who was lying on the floor, suddenly sat up. Yadab looks at Shashi in astonishment. Shashi then hints again, "Set out for Puri. Then there's no reason you have to go to Puri at all. You can go to some other pilgrimage site, change your mind along the way. You can spend your last days in peace among strangers." Shashi shakes his head solemnly, "I see no other way for you to escape the clutches of these troublesome villagers."

What does Yadab think, who knows? Suppressing his anger, Julia rose like fire. Trembling with rage, he said, "You're mocking me, Shashi, playing jokes. Do you think I've started pretending, have I? You never believed me, always thought it was all nonsense – that I've lived by deceiving people! I've read a lot of English, become knowledgeable, what will you understand all this? What do you know of yoga? You're a heathen atheist. I've never told you anything out of affection, I've only tried to guide you towards religion by giving advice. The real devil resides within you, what can I possibly do for you? Go away, father, you're in front of me, it's a sin to look at your face." "Religion and philosophy, yoga – hearing these wonderful words from Yadab, Shashi is astonished. What an extraordinary inspiration has come over Yadab. Overwhelmed by the advice from his mouth, a unique joy fills the heart, an uncontrollable longing arises to ascend to an otherworldly realm. Shashi remains silent. One day, he says to Yadab, 'Panditmoshai, if you decide to leave us on the day of the chariot, what will you do here? Why not go to Puri? The real festival of the chariot is there, there's nothing here. The Babus' chariot, even if it's the biggest, won't be more than three hands high. You should go to Puri.' 'What are you saying, Shashi? Run away at the end?' – Yadab says. Pagaldidi says in a distressed voice, 'What's happened to Shashi?' 'Why run? You'll go on a pilgrimage.' – says Shashi. Yadab's shock is broken. 'You're telling me to go to Puri?' Who knew Shashi could speak like this, it's unbelievable, yet the rural superstitions hidden in Shashi's mind have awakened. At times, he thinks, maybe there is something beyond reason, something that Yadab and people like Yadab are searching for in the world. What if the faith of all these people who flock to Yadab in groups and fall at his feet is not false? If there isn't something more in Yadab than the common man, why have so many people gone mad for no reason? Householders have come with their families from villages ten-twelve *krosh* away, living under trees. How many men and women's eyes has Shashi seen filled with tears? Just stepping down the path to Kayetpada, it feels like a pilgrimage."

All men and women of marriageable age who roam about, in the daily life of violence, hatred, selfishness, and accumulated guilt, have left behind the desire for worldly pleasures, the calculations of gain; perhaps temporarily, but sooner or later, in the greed of a lifetime, they will all bury their faces. Yet, the eagerness in their eyes captivates for now. Kusum, raising her head with pride, says, "No one asked you for an explanation. I came to see if you were ill, seeing your face so dry, thinking it was due to sorrow. You know in this world, little brother, if you go to make others happy, you have to face humiliation at every step. I am going to my father's house now, ask for an explanation!" "But will Yadab really give up his life on the day of the chariot? That day of death was predetermined for him, didn't Yadab know that through the power of yoga he would live for a long time? If that is so, then there is no doubt that he is a barbarian and an atheist. Now he doesn't even believe that man can die by his own will, that he can know when he will die before it happens. It's a sin to look at his face! A barbarian, an atheist, he will have to choose between death or disgrace in a few days, what a unique reward to give him a way to escape! Shashi remains sad and humble in the face of Yadab's disdain, grief, and humiliation. Because everyone is preoccupied with Yadab, Kusum has had the opportunity to meet with Shashi. She says in an anxious voice, "Why is your face so dry?" Shashi softens and says, "So much is happening in the village, when we meet, you don't say anything about it, only about your own matters. Is there nothing else to say in the world?" Saying this, Kusum laughs. Shashi says, "Reduce that lightness a bit, sister. I hear you are going to your father's house, but you haven't gone yet." Shashi says, annoyed, "I can't give you so many explanations, sister." "No? There are so many strange things, there's no limit to them." "Oh, what's wrong with your mind?" "My mind isn't well, sister." In this world, after the madwoman, he is her most beloved, she has shaken him off a little. The madwoman, who knows if she sees a ray of hope somewhere. Her face is very sad but calm, the traces of fear and anxiety are gone. Walking, she said, "What will happen if I run away? How many more years will I live? How much suffering there will be among new people in a foreign land, there will also be regret in my mind."

"Why live an extra year or two unhappily, thinking about what happiness lies ahead? It's far more glorious to depart this way." 'It seems Pagoldidi had come incognito; as soon as she was spotted, a crowd of men and women surrounded her. Shashi, with great difficulty, entered the house and closed the door. Pagoldidi cannot tolerate crowds. People were clamoring to see her, but she never came out. The girls, applying oil and vermillion to their hands, turned away from her barred door. Yadab came inside and said, "Shashi, have you arrived? Oh brother, I was so angry that day when you spoke a little harshly, so I didn't show my face for a few days! I was thinking about you, Shashi. You have no idea how much harm was done that day. Under the influence of Maya, I gave bad advice, and then, from one moment to the next, I completely negated my words. It's not easy to dismiss your words so lightly.' Although Shashi didn't particularly appreciate Kusum's words, the oppressive atmosphere that had built up in his mind while thinking alone seemed to lighten somewhat with the arrival of this fresh breeze. That's how it is. Why is he so agitated about a trivial village matter? He'll die, Yadab will die, what does it matter? In a few days, there won't even be a memory of living in this village. Yadab talks a lot; he just keeps going on. It's as if Shashi is taking care of Pagoldidi. He cured her of her illnesses through his knowledge of solar science; this time, perhaps Shashi will have to take medicine. 'Shashi could learn solar science if he wanted to. He's not just Bamun's son, I could have made him my disciple; I could have taught him the knowledge. Will he learn?' Yadab laughed. 'Oh Shashi, there's no time to learn right now!' Pagoldidi said, 'I had come to talk about going on a pilgrimage, brother, what will happen if I go? A group of people from the village will go with me. So many people are guarding me day and night, where can I escape everyone's eyes?' 'Then she says, 'What amusing things happen in the village! An old man of seventy years will die, and ten villages are already making a fuss about it. How much more will I see if I live!' 'That day in the afternoon, Srinath came and called Shashi. The next day, Pagoldidi herself arrived. Shashi had no choice but to go. Shashi said, 'But can anyone go happily by their own will, Didi?' Kusum says very cleverly, 'I am unable to go.' 'That's what Pagoldidi has decided. Is there anything impossible for her?'

Two days before the Ratha Yatra, there were heavy rains. That day too, in the morning, there were intermittent showers, and the sky remained cloudy. The Sankirtan had started the previous evening and continued all night without a break. In the morning, a fresh crowd had gathered, making the Kirtan even more vibrant. Yadav had taken a bath and worn new clothes, and in the morning, he was adorned with flower garlands. Even Pagal Didi had not been spared; her neck was also adorned with many flower garlands. However, the application of oil and vermillion by the married women had stopped. Today, those who were widowed could not offer them those things. As the day progressed, the area in front of Yadav's house and the narrow streets of Kayetpara became crowded. A group of boys from Gaudiya, Satgaon, and Ukhara villages were volunteering and working with great enthusiasm. Bamboo barriers were set up to separate the male and female pilgrims. Yadav's seat was on a broken platform. Several cots were placed in the courtyard, and the village elders sat there. Their smoking pipes and the way they conversed resembled a festive gathering, as if they had come to celebrate a wedding ceremony. Shital Babu and Bimal Babu came in the morning and again in the afternoon. The Babus' daughters arrived in the afternoon. Yadav and Pagal Didi were in their final moments. Shashi had noticed them earlier. After eleven o'clock, seeing them gradually becoming weak and drowsy, a commotion started in his mind. A little later, Yadav, with drooping eyes, looked at Shashi once and smiled strangely, and Pagal Didi closed her eyes. Yadav's face was covered in sweat and grime, and the pupils of his eyes had contracted. Shashi was the only doctor among the three to four thousand excited people; he stood up. Still, he could not blink. He saw the familiar signs of death appearing on Yadav and Pagal Didi one by one. Then, with the help of the boys, the crowd was managed, and beds were made and placed side by side for the two of them. The Ratha had not passed through the narrow streets of Kayetpara even once. On Shital Babu's orders, with great effort, the Babus' Ratha was pulled and brought in front of Yadav's house around three in the afternoon.

He somehow managed to meet the eyes of the madwoman. No, Yadab, in his suffering, only glanced at her once. The pupil of his eye had now become even smaller. When everyone realized that the madwoman had passed away along with Yadab, Yadab's last breath would perhaps be taken before her final one, and a commotion erupted all around. The men and women, old and young, all seemed to go mad! The volunteers had managed to maintain order and respect until then, but now no one could be controlled. It seemed Yadab and the madwoman were crushed in the crowd. The madwoman's feet were covered in vermillion. Then Yadab also made no sound. Everyone said, "It's over." The madwoman died an hour later; no one could pinpoint the exact time. A Brahmin washed away the foam from her mouth with holy Ganges water. Yadab's last breath came in the evening. The moon has no right to touch! In his delirium, he anxiously said, "Give her some Ganges water." A world entangled in truth and falsehood. Falsehood also has its greatness. The illusion of falsehood can drive thousands of people mad. Falsehood can remain falsehood forever, even if it becomes the truth for eternity. Who among those who were blessed by touching the dust of Yadab and the madwoman's feet could guess the mystery of their deaths? This event remained etched in their minds forever, a memory of a unique, otherworldly scene. In times of sorrow and grief, this will be remembered. When life becomes harsh and bleak, there will be the courage to hope that something greater than survival can be found in this world. Grief, sorrow, the unbearable burdens of life - even death can be conquered by the power of the mind. In how many narrow, weak minds Yadab has awakened a yearning for the great, whether gentle or strong, the moon has done so. When he thinks, he forgets about the sweat covering Yadab's skin in the opium's effect, the tiny pupils, and the foam rising on his mouth. The monsoon has arrived. The water in the canals has risen, and the ponds are overflowing. Everywhere there is mud, and it is difficult to move on the broken paths. The palanquin bearers' feet sink into the mud, and they have to move slowly. In such a rainstorm, one day, Kusum's father came to take his daughter. Only Kusum knows how she fell by the pond that day.

He said, his waist was injured and his arm was broken. The next afternoon, dark clouds covered the sky, and it became dark all around. Shashi was sitting in his room. He was supposed to visit patients in the village, but seeing the clouds, he didn't go out. While thinking about many things, it started raining heavily. Then Kusum came. He couldn't bear the pain in his hand and came to take the medicine. His arm was indeed broken. While Shashi was examining him, he asked in passing, "Did you fall on purpose, son?" Shashi said, "Is the pain in your hand so much that you came to take medicine in this rain? How could you come? Isn't your waist broken?" Kusum said, "Will this pain reduce in two or four days, father? I can't walk because of the pain in my waist. Who knows if any bones are broken!" Kusum's father said with great regret, "It's been a long time since I haven't gone. Let's see for two days, if the pain subsides." "How can I go with you? I can't go, father! Take me when the time of the festival comes." "My arm is also broken," Kusum said. "You have nothing wrong with your arm, only your waist is broken, right?" "What are you saying, little brother! Does anyone break their waist on purpose?" Shashi shook his hand and said, "Hey, don't exaggerate, will you?" Kusum angrily said, "What more will you swell, little brother, will you become a drum?" Kusum vaguely said, "I came with difficulty." "How did you come?" Saying this, Kusum opened the door and went out into the rain. Seeing his gait, it didn't seem like he had been bedridden with a waist injury the day before. A sadness like the monsoon densely filled Shashi's mind. Kusum had become so incomprehensible at the end! He had hoped that Kusum would listen to all his words calmly, that he would understand everything. If there was no misunderstanding, there would be no sorrow, no resentment, no shame between the two of them. Understanding would end in deep intimacy, in profound sympathy. What happened instead? Thinking about this, Shashi felt that the rural mind of Kusum had no ability to understand him. Shashi became a little disheartened this time. He knew that this could not go on forever, that one day he would not be able to play like a child. How could Kusum understand in such a storm of emotions? Kusum could not be blamed. Trying to avoid this day with a light veil of indifference was very cruel.

It's surprising how much Kusum has endured. Whatever she has, she keeps to herself, wondering what will become of her. Why does she always have to endure her timid silence? Shashi felt ashamed of his unfair treatment of Kusum for so long. Kusum sat down, and it was as if she was saved by sitting. Shashi said in a softer voice, "I've been wanting to say something to you for a long time, my dear. I haven't been able to say it. But it needs to be said, doesn't it? We're not children, can we do whatever we want? We need to act with understanding. My dear friend, I've only caused harm in trying to help. Still, I wouldn't have accepted that, my dear. The pain I feel at not being able to sit next to you in this rain, I wouldn't want anyone to know. But I won't stay in the village, my dear. I'm leaving for abroad tomorrow and will never return." In such a situation, with a little force of mind - Kusum didn't speak, and Shashi seemed even more disheartened. The dawn was breaking through the window. Getting up, he closed the window and, with a very awkward politeness, said, "Sit down, my dear, sit there." Shashi said in a subdued voice, "I don't know the medicine for hand pain, my dear. I've brought the massage oil, so just massage with that. - How can you do it in this rain?" The next day, he learned from Paran that Kusum's hand and waist pain had lessened, and she would be going to her father's house the next day. He said in a soft voice, "Don't mind, my dear, you should have understood before me." "Kusum suddenly looked up and said, "I came for pain medicine, am I listening to all this?" "Why did you come? I was going in the afternoon." Shashi was stunned. Then, in a clear voice, he said, "What did you say? You came for medicine?" "I can't bear the pain in my hand, little brother." "I can't bear it, little brother." That night, nothing was right, and in the early morning, Shashi set out for Bajitpur with Gobardhan and two others. He doesn't usually use the big boat to go to Bajitpur alone, Gobardhan alone takes him in the small boat. Who could understand why he needed the big boat today? Gobardhan arranged everything in the boat, including a bed, water jug, homemade food-filled tiffin carrier, a ripe mango, tea equipment, and a bag of medicine. But Shashi didn't untie the boat.

Standing by the shore, he lit a cigarette. Taking Paran, Kusum boarded Shashi's boat. As his belongings, the fishing net, and everything else were being loaded, Shashi said, "You'll have to sleep in the cabin, son. Sit towards the front, then you'll be able to see the shore." Paran said in a serious tone, "What's the point of the trouble, mother will cook two meals for me anyway. I'm sending him off like this just thinking about it. A woman's head gets messed up if she doesn't go to her father's house." Shashi said, "We'll go to Bajitpur, Paran. I was waiting for you. There's no need for you to go in that small boat with them, let's go in my boat to Bajitpur. I'll arrange a good boat there." After the sun rose, Kusum arrived at the ghat with Ananta and Paran. Seeing Shashi, Paran said, "What's the little boy doing here?" "He says he'll come after the puja. He'll stay for a few days." "A few days at his father's house?" "You'll suffer, Paran," Shashi said. So be it. No one has any objection. What an amazing character Kusum has! Shashi felt a little ashamed. Kusum didn't create any mystery that day. That's just his way of expressing his thoughts. He doesn't understand some things, he doesn't accept some things. Why would Shashi die thinking about it? That day, Kusum's behavior only meant this. And in another matter, Shashi was surprised! He had said he was leaving the village that day. Kusum didn't say anything about it. Did he not believe it? Shashi didn't have any extraordinary expectations when he received a letter a few days prior from Ramtaran Babu, the senior lawyer of Bajitpur, regarding a case. Hearing the matter, he was stunned for a moment. Yadab had stirred up and excited ten villages, but the shock he had reserved for everyone, Shashi couldn't even imagine. Rocking in the boat's motion, Kusum's father fell asleep. Kusum arranged for him to sleep in the cabin, towards the back of the boat. When he fell asleep, Shashi called him and said, "Why did you suddenly get the urge to go to your father's house?" Shashi landed at Bajitpur ghat and told Gobardhan to take Kusum to his father's house and bring the boat back to the ghat in the afternoon. What did Yadab have?

Not an excessive amount for building a hospital, but a staggering, abundant donation as a gift from Jadab. Fifteen thousand rupees worth of company paper, twelve-thirteen thousand in cash, and Jadab's face lit up with the joy of settlement. Yet, sighing with sadness, he said, "I thought I would stay at my father's house for a while, but I understand that won't be possible now." "Jadab has donated everything he had for building a hospital in the village. The responsibility and the burden are all on Shashi." "It's not because of the cases, you know. I wrote asking you to come for an urgent matter. But it could have waited until today if not for today." "Looking at his father with a sidelong glance, Kusum said, 'You came for me today, didn't you?' Kusum smiled gently. Shashi said, 'You think there's no work, don't you? Am I going just for you? I'm going to meet the lawyer.'" Shashi said, "Yes." "You understand there are cases?" Kusum smiled slightly. He couldn't refuse to take charge once informed, yet the reason Jadab didn't tell him might be something else – if there were exceptions to his easy spending, wouldn't it be to keep so much money in his possession? Shashi has been coming to this house since childhood. After lunch, he rested there. Jadab came to the city a few days before his death and made his last will. Even after the day Shashi advised him to run away to save his life and mind, Jadab might have decided to die at that time, perhaps not before! Shashi understands everything today. He had shown everything himself from the beginning, death and the reason forever remained etched in his mind. He used to own that house and land. Did Jadab have so much money? Shashi remembered the dilapidated old house, the bare rooms filled with dust, a few utensils, earthen pots, and worn wooden chests, the poverty due to lack of household furnishings. That was also extraordinary, truly – the cleanliness of that house, the fragrant, peaceful atmosphere, had always overwhelmed Shashi, but there was no sign of money in that home of the home-renouncing monk. It had been a long time since that home-renouncing monk's belongings had aged. He had reduced his visits to the court a lot. He got up at four in the morning and started doing his prayers – the man is religious.

He said, "I heard a rumor about voluntary relinquishment, but I didn't believe it. Otherwise, I would have gone to see for myself. Now it's too late. He dusted my feet so many times, and if I had known he was such a great man, I would have done some good deeds for the afterlife. He came and went, and I didn't even realize what he possessed. Ramtaran said with further emotion, "Where would I even begin? Where in the world, except for India, is this knowledge found? Just thinking about it makes my hair stand on end. We disbelieve all this reading of two pages in English, we dismiss it as nonsense – who would even believe such a thing exists? You yourself, a doctor, have seen it all firsthand. Go, Shashi, write down all the details and print them on paper, let people's opinions change a little."

While listening to the description of Yadav's relinquishment, Ramtaran said with emotion, "Everyone is dying, but whose death is so noble? No illness, no weakness, just a will, and the soul left the body and merged into the infinite. What would your medical science call this, Shashi?" Shashi said, "Many would call it Siddhapurusha. That's what he was. He was so introverted, there was no way to understand him. If only I had known before!" "What would you say? It doesn't matter." After thinking all night, the next day Gopal said, "Look, Shashi, you're a young man, you have no business meddling in these complicated matters – if you keep getting involved in these things, when will you practice medicine? It's not easy to make a living! Give it all to me, I will take care of everything. The village hospital will be there, and if all these old, wise men are there, and if you, a young man, have authority over everything, everyone will be annoyed, Shashi, they will become hostile and create problems. Step aside." Gopal probably didn't believe the words. The next day he went to Bajitpur. Returning, he said, "I saw the will, Shashi. You will have to take all the responsibility, but there is no restriction on who you can give the work contract to, as you please. So give it to me. Make me the agent." Shashi said, "There will be no financial accounting. However, I will not have to give an explanation to anyone. I will choose three respectable people of my choice and form a committee, they will only advise me – I will have authority in all matters." Whether out of gratitude or for some other reason, if Shashi keeps his word?

Shashi's belief in his yogic powers had grown in the last few days, but if one couldn't understand it, then the disbelief was self-created; there was no earthly reason behind it. Annoyed, Shashi said, "Where does this disbelief come from? And no one has the right to burden me. If I don't take the responsibility, it will go to the government." "Gobardhan came yesterday. He returned to the village at night. After hearing everything from Shashi, Gopal said in astonishment, 'Where did this man get so much money from?' 'If there is an heir, they will probably create a fuss, Shashi, they won't let go without lawsuits. You will end up in trouble.' 'Really? Why not? Tell me? Do you doubt me?' 'As a hospital doctor, I can take some money if I want.' 'I will do it after consulting with you.' Shashi said, 'There is nothing anywhere, why did you get so busy beforehand?' Gopal said, 'What busyness? You are a young man, what all will you do?' 'So much trouble, you won't get anything, Shashi?' 'He must be the son of a rich man.' 'What is my danger? He didn't give me the money! These wills don't change easily.' 'Shashi said, that's not true.' Gopal lowered his voice unnecessarily and said, 'You won't have to give an account to anyone, will you?' 'The key to Jadab's broken house was kept with Shital Babu, the landlord of the village. One day it was seen that the lock was broken and the things in the room were scattered, deep pits were dug here and there. Seeing that several utensils were missing, it was understood that no thieves had broken into the house, someone with a vivid imagination, in search of treasure, had come.' 'Shashi's fund! It seems Jadab has donated the money for Shashi's welfare. The respected people of the village also started visiting Shashi. Everyone seemed to be hurt like Shital Babu. What a surprising thing Jadab did, giving all the responsibility of such a big matter to Shashi, despite being such a wealthy old man! What an insult to everyone! Even though they felt insulted, they couldn't stay away, they surrounded Shashi. Instead of three people, an unwanted committee of thirty advisors seemed to have formed around Shashi. And Gopal kept chanting in the boy's ear, 'You can't do it, Shashi, you can't do it, leave me alone.' Shrinath started shouting, 'The fools will die, they will die.'

– The bats will fall to the ground if caught with that hand. Shashi said politely, 'Why me? You will be the head in all matters.' The excitement of Yadab's great death had not yet subsided; as soon as the news of the will was revealed, another wave of excitement surged forth. Shital Babu called Shashi and heard everything, saying, 'If Panditji says and he is deceased, Shashi, otherwise, I would never tolerate the competition to send me to the hospital by pushing me. So, listen, I will donate one thousand rupees to your fund.' One has given everything in charity for a good cause, and another wants to take a share of it. Something doesn't feel right to Shashi. Countless misgivings arise. Meanwhile, the relentless rain has started. That too is unbearable. Village! What a desolate, worthless play of nature! The mud has melted in the pure rain, and the stench of decay has spread. Who knows how much longer the days of escape will be delayed? It would have been better to leave the village before Kusum returns. And there is no way! It is because there are so many respectable people in the country that Yadab has ended up in such trouble. The legal complications are not easily resolved. Although the will clearly states a young man's right to the money donated for the benefit of the general public, it was a bitter setback in the eyes of the law. It was not clear from which side, perhaps because of the possibility of so much money ending up in the pockets of Gopal Das's daughters, those who had been driven mad by the lure of it, through intrigue, attempts were made to invalidate the will by bringing out some flaws in the will. Many investigations were conducted, Shashi made many trips to Bajitpur, and many of the witnesses to the will were examined, and then Shashi obtained the right to build a hospital with Yadab's money and property. While forming the committee, Shashi fell into another dilemma: whom to include and whom to invite? The will instructs to include three respectable elderly gentlemen. There is no shortage of respectable gentlemen, but Shashi fears that if those he means come to the committee, they will not respect him, and if those who are loyal to him come, the disloyal will become inflamed. He refused to request Shital Babu, and he also got angry. Shashi will preside, the landlord of the village, and he will only give advice? That is clear to Shashi. By being able to win over Shital with such a tactic, the committee was easily formed as usual this time.

In Shital's house, the members of the committee gathered to discuss. The apprehension about the changes that Shashi had harbored proved to be largely unfounded. Their fear of change was no less than his. Even amidst politeness and humility, whenever Shashi expressed firmness on any matter, Shital would not protest, preferring to avoid conflict. Satyahari and Keshav were old men, very innocent. It was decided that the land would be dug up and the proceeds would be used to purchase land at the junction of Satgaon, Ukhra, and Gaudiar for a hospital, selling off the broken-down house and land of the Jadavs. A meeting was held in the village, presided over by Shital. Shashi himself was surprised to hear his own speech at the meeting. Who knew he could speak so beautifully? The meeting generated considerable enthusiasm and excitement, but towards the end, a sudden downpour softened the mood. As the boys began to go around the meeting with shawls at the ready to collect donations, many excused themselves under the pretext of the rain. Initially, there were many fears and apprehensions, but now Shashi's mind was filled with enthusiasm. The desire to do something big, which had been suppressed, had suddenly burst forth, and he felt a sense of liberation. After running around in the water all day, returning home with account books in hand, he felt deeply tired and intensely satisfied. Newness and variety had come into his life. He felt grateful to the Jadavs. He also tasted an exciting joy in the rapid changes in the villagers' attitudes towards him. Until now, he was just a doctor, but now he was becoming a small-time leader in his own right. The villagers, who had avoided Shashi because he was a busy man, were now flocking to him in groups, seeking opportunities to make a fuss in the name of work. This monsoon, everyone rushed to collect donations in the villages according to Shashi's instructions! Shashi received an invitation to speak at a meeting in the neighboring village of Ukhra. Not only that, considering his current situation in the complexities of village social affairs, Shashi said, "However, you are busy people, and there is no need for you to be involved in these matters. When the hospital is established, you will have to be the president of the permanent committee. I will come from time to time with advice. How can I manage such a big deal without your help, tell me?"

Shashi said, "I will tell him. Then there will be two of us – you and Satyahari Babu. I need one more. How about Satgan Headmaster Keshav Babu?" Then, with a pleasant demeanor, he respectfully seated the cool Shashi and ordered snacks to be brought. He said, "Who else will be on the committee?" Shashi said, "If you would just say who would be convenient." Shital said, "What about our Munshif, or Satyahari Babu from Ukhara? He's a man of law." "If you are there, who will be the president?" Shashi seemed surprised. "Do I have to be the president?" "Didn't you write that in the will, Bapu?" Gopal has so many worries. He can't sleep at night. In the middle of the night, Shashi would wake up and hear him puffing on his tobacco.

For a moment's remorse, a man ruins a life for a little convenience, a man whose stern, hardworking nature is built only on cruelty; did Shashi make him sentimental? When he puts his hand on Sendidi's shoulder and says in a tired voice, "You know, Saroja, I haven't had a moment's happiness away from my children," Shashi would be startled if he were present. Not for putting his hand on Sendidi's shoulder, but for seeing Gopal's face, hearing the tone of his voice. Perhaps he could even understand how much Gopal is seeking solace in Sendidi's company today, overwhelmed with sorrow. Meanwhile, Gopal seemed to shrink. It deeply hurt him that Shashi didn't give him the right to interfere in any hospital-related matters. Gopal has a haughty nature, a proud mind. Shashi is his only son. He couldn't imagine such treatment from him. Sometimes he looks at Shashi in amazement, unable to understand anything. Gopal didn't know that to maintain respect in his son's mind, one must make one's life worthy of respect, as a father. Blaming fate, he sighs in his heart. Even remorse seems to be leaving Gopal. Sometimes he thinks that this is his punishment for all the wrongs he has done in life, and it sounds in Gopal's ears for a moment. However, Gopal's accusation is not just about being deprived of the right to handle Yadav's money. For as long as he has been around, he has noticed that Shashi's place in his mind, in his life, has been shrinking.

It's not that Shashi doesn't respect him, so let there be no regret that Shashi is absent. This is just what Gopal wants to make him crazy. One day, he said to Shashi, "You know, Shashi, God, in his mercy, has given me a son like you because of my many sins. Don't you think I understand your greatness? You scold me, you shame me, you act like a judge!" Greatness! The father is a sinner, doesn't he feel ashamed, Shashi, of your greatness? But Shashi didn't join in the social conversation. He knows it's just a temporary emotion of old age, a blind alliance with youth. Today, in a meeting filled with the sounds of coughing and sneezing, he will be given a seat of honor, tomorrow he will be scolded there. The meeting was postponed until the first boy arrived, until he arrived. Those who are old, they have forgotten Shashi's age. Shashi said in a soft voice, "You don't understand, you get angry thinking this and that. There's no question of belief or disbelief. If I did what you said, wouldn't people say that father and son are together looting the hospital funds?" One day, Gopal handed Shashi five hundred rupees. Seeing Gopal's face, Shashi said a little fearfully, "I have never criticized you, father." "Don't disbelieve it." What did Gopal expect, what did Shashi say! Gopal snatched the notes, burned them, and said, "How much will you give me? A lakh of rupees? I won't give a single paisa!" While such a commotion was going on around Shashi, Kusum came one day, and a few days later came the news of Moti. Shashi said, "What will five hundred people say, father?" "I gave it to the hospital fund, Shashi." "BANGODARSHAN's money?" "It will stay as it is, then it will start household management when he starts a family. Now what is his responsibility, what are his thoughts? Moti is delighted with his own good fortune. Is there any girl in the village as lucky as her? She doesn't marry the man of her choice, she goes to her in-laws' house and sits in the corner of the room after giving a little trouble, then washes dishes, sweeps the house, cooks, and gets scolded! So much fear, so much thought, so dependent. And her chosen husband, after marriage, becomes so free-spirited, independent in everything. Moti liked the hotel room. There are two windows facing the street, and you can see far on both sides if you lean out.

Just ahead, a small street leads straight to the larger road on the right, where a tram runs. With the help of the porters, Moti arranged the bedding in the room! Two necessary items were brought by the hotel servants. Then Moti took a bath after applying soap, and it was amusing to see the porters standing guard in front of the closed bathroom door. The old Odia Brahmin from the hotel, a hunched, dark-complexioned man, but quick with words, went into the room with the food. Seeing the amount of rice in his own plate, Moti said, "Hey, how much rice have they given me? It will be enough to feed someone like me for seven days!" Moti's happiness knew no bounds at having Prince Prabir as her husband. Leaving the village brought tears to her eyes, and a mysterious fear gripped her heart thinking about the unknown future, yet the girl melted away in her heart at the invitation. What a delightful mind to have at this age! As the steamer left, while watching Prabhan standing on the jetty through the gaps in the fog, her heart started pounding, and tears welled up and spilled over. Sitting next to Prince Prabir, she felt an excitement, a sense of reassurance. Before reaching Calcutta, she didn't say anything about how she had come to Calcutta in search of Kumud. Understanding that Kumud wanted to show her the city first and then take her to the hotel, Moti went along accordingly. Moti started talking a little foolishly, asking "What's that?" and "What's this?" making Kumud restless and excited. What a wonderful enthusiasm Moti displayed! After staying in the hotel for a few days, if she showed him around and let him experience it, she would do so, otherwise, she would go somewhere else. What do you think? "It's like a mess hotel." "It doesn't matter, what's it to us?" "What if it gets ruined? Just call and have them take it away, won't they?" "Where will we stay? Let me tell you, Moti." After the feast, Kumud fell asleep smoking cigarettes. When the burning cigarette fell from his outstretched hand to the floor, Moti picked it up, put it out, and kept it aside. The cigarette was only half-burnt, and Kumud would need it again when he woke up. Then, the jolting of the car made Moti sleepy too. Kumud was lying on the seat in such a way that there was very little space next to him. Being a new bride, it was customary for her to sleep next to her husband, wasn't it?

Unable to maintain the rules, Mati was filled with sorrow and lay down on the floor covered in a blanket. Kumud woke up at three. After washing his face and hands and getting dressed, he called Mati. He said, "Sit by the door, I'm going out for a bit. I'll buy a few things and come back." Still, Mati's heart began to race. "Oh, Laxmi, the rice is going to be wasted." She lamented as she ate. Kumud said, "You're such a good girl. Why are you worrying so much over a trivial matter? Even if the rice is wasted, it's just hotel rice. This is about human feelings, isn't it?" After a while, the commotion moved away and became indistinct, then completely stopped. An hour later, Mati's heart pounded as she heard a knock on the door. She asked, "Who is it?" The hotel servant came to inquire if they needed anything. Mati said, "No, we don't need anything!" How strange the boy's eyes, how strange his gaze. Mati wanted to slam the door shut. But if her friend had left the room, he might have the right to ask a few questions. Mati was afraid. In a choked voice, she said, "We just arrived this morning." But it wasn't Kumud, it was a twenty or twenty-two-year-old bespectacled boy who looked surprised to see Mati. He glanced inside the room and said, "There was a friend of mine in this room. I didn't know he had left." Mati realized that two or four people had come out of the neighboring rooms. A commotion began. Mati stood frozen with shame inside the locked room. What was all this about? What did the boy mean? Why did Kumud leave her alone in this place? When Kumud left, Mati locked the door. After fifteen minutes, there was a knock on the door. She opened the latch and said, "Have you come back?" "Shyamal Babu?" "Shyamal Babu went to room twenty-one a while ago. I saw you with him in his room. What's the matter? Tell me, have you been hanging around with Shyamal Babu all afternoon?" Just then, the manager suddenly arrived. He must have been in a nearby member's room. Mati closed the door. She heard the boy saying, "I'm looking for Shyamal Babu." "Who are you looking for? Come in, sir, please come in." "I saw him the day before yesterday. Where has he gone in the meantime?"

Moti couldn't say anything. One by one, the days passed in this hotel! During this time, Kumud took Moti to see a movie one day and took him for a boat ride on the Ganges another. He had made so many promises. He would show Moti around the city, take him to the movies one day, the theatre the next, and sit face to face in the corner of the room like doves. Where did all those promises of Kumud's go? Moti is amazed by his extreme laziness. No matter where he goes, even playing with Moti seems like a chore to him. Moti has such a delicate, light body, yet Kumud only finds such fleeting solace in him! Kumud lies down, props himself up, and reads a book, enjoying the sweet comfort of his laziness, smoking a cigarette or two all day, or sometimes lovingly coaxing Moti to sit by the window and gaze outside for ten minutes, sighing in his mind. He says, "Have some tea, Moti." Perhaps that's why Kumud tolerates it. But why would he tolerate it? Moti feels utterly crushed inside. If it were Shashi, he probably wouldn't have laughed it off like this, he would have grabbed the guy by the scruff of his neck and left him with a few bruises. Moti suddenly feels like Kumud is cowardly. He wants to downplay the matter, for no other reason than that if it becomes serious, if he faces any inconvenience or harm, Kumud is afraid of that. Doesn't Kumud accept small insults for fear of a fight? Is he like Gaudia's Kirtinigopal in this matter? Kumud says, "Where will you go? What else is there to see in Kolkata? One day you see the theatre, that's it, you get bored. Then you say, let's go out for a day, let's go to Puri and come back? Are there any interesting people here? Kolkata is a city, it's like a market street, you get dizzy just walking around." While telling Kumud, Moti started to fear that he might get angry and do something untoward, even kill that wicked boy. But Kumud just laughed a little. He said, "The boy is not without cunning!" Kumud said, "What's the fear for? He wouldn't have eaten you. There are so many people around, what greater courage would it take to talk to you and leave after a little while? Maybe he had a bet with someone, he would talk to you. It's just the foolishness of youth." "I'll go, I'll go, what's the point of being busy?" Kumud laughs, takes Moti closer, pulling him to him and saying, "How nice it is just the two of us in a room! Don't you like it, Moti?"

"Not a clever boy, not a devil, not without Lakshmi, just clever?" Kumud had bought a pair of shoes for Moti. It was his first gift to her after the marriage. "When are you going on a Puri tour?" Moti says, "Won't you take me anywhere today?" "I was afraid of that!" said Moti. Kumud returned in the evening. "Hmm, they fit." Since then, whenever Kumud sleeps in the afternoon, Moti tiptoes and touches his feet. At that time, the city's noise creates a kind of oppressive stillness. At this time, Moti's mind becomes very heavy. Like holding a banana in one hand, Kumud's feet are touched, and in the other hand, she has to close her eyes. Moti feels like a prisoner. She feels like Kumud will keep her trapped in this small room to touch his feet forever, she will have no playmates, no one will be there, she will not be able to walk on the soft sandy paths, and the fields and sky will not be seen in her life. That's it, then a cup of tea, and Kumud is back to sleep. Moti never gets a sense of fulfillment in this emotional daze. Some absent-minded thoughts, a well-worn book, ten minutes with Moti - it's like a repetitive game for Kumud, and the lack of variety gradually makes Moti dislike it. However, Kumud has given Moti endless opportunities for small and big services. Moti serves tea, gives food, provides water for thirst. She arranges for shaving, washes and keeps the razor sharp, and even cuts Kumud's hair herself, and provides cigarettes, among other things. What else does Moti do? Opening the door, Moti moves to the corner of the room. She sits directly on the bed with Kumud's friends. If it's his first visit, he stares at Moti for a while. "It's so itchy. If someone would just touch it a little." "You will also fall, Moti, you will also fall." "Will the hotel servant touch it? That's why it happened. Don't you do it, just a little, gently!" Moti said with a red face, "Why don't you call the servant?" Seven days. Moti has spent a total of seven days here, and in fear - "Read whatever books you want all day." One day, Kumud said, "My foot is itching, son." Kumud says, "Open the door, Moti." His friend, still lying down, replies, "Son!" Kumud laughs. He lights a cigarette with a flick. Then, one by one, Kumud's friends start arriving. Every day their number increases. Kumud has amazing friends.

People like this are never born, Moti had never seen. Asia knocked on the door. Kumud said, "Who is it?" "Where did you find him?" "Why?" "It's me." Banbihari sat for a long time in silence. He told so many funny stories at first! Towards the end, unable to hold back, Moti started laughing out loud. Kumud ordered his wife to go to his house the next day, and Banbihari left. Not everyone is like this. Some try to be friendly with Moti. Some want to become familiar immediately upon entering the house, some try to build a relationship slowly – some have artificial conversations, some are simple and straightforward. Moti also receives a couple of gifts. He really liked one of these friends, despite his stout appearance and strong, black beard. His name was Banbihari. Moti couldn't understand Banbihari's offense. He didn't want to understand. Behind his words, there was affection from Banbihari, there was empathy. He had left the village, left his relatives and family, and entered an unfamiliar, strange world, and perhaps Kumud's friends hadn't even noticed it without Banbihari. Two days later, Moti's eyes lit up. Banbihari said, "The advertising images are painted by him, a room and a little veranda is called a home. Still, it's a home, not a hotel. This rascal doesn't even realize that." And immediately, he got lost in stories with Kumud. Moti could understand that a friend of Kumud's was not a good person. Still, Moti was surprised that he never looked at him kindly. He thought that no matter what Kumud's friends were like, they knew politeness. It was as if he was showing off that there were only friends in this room, no friend's wife. Kumud said, "He's a lightweight, empty. He's sacrificing art for money. He had a strange talent for painting, but he couldn't fight until he became famous. He spends his days painting monthly magazine covers for advertisements. So there's no point in regretting such a thing." Banbihari said, "I was going to cut off his head for bringing you to the hotel. My wife also approved of this desire. Now, with your permission, I can do the job. Should I cut off his head or what else will I break?" Banbihari laughed. He said to Moti, "I am a long-time friend of Kumud's."

If you consider the age difference, I would be your father-in-law, but your husband has forbidden me to mention age. Bonobihari was taken aback. He said to Kumud, "Hey, it's not that bad. Why make a fuss about talking?" And looking at Moti again, he said, "Make some tea, sister-in-law. Less sugar, strong liquor." Sitting by the window, Jakia immediately teased, "Should I call you 'Kaki' or 'Boudi'?"

Moti felt embarrassed and laughed. Kumud said, "The shyness is gone a bit." Moti made tea. In the afternoon, she lit the stove, and it didn't have time to cool down before twelve at night. Perhaps Kumud had told them, the evening friends completely ignored Moti, and only informed Kumud when they needed tea. After making tea and serving it, Moti's duty was over, she didn't have to distribute it. She sat by that window all the time. The window panes opened into the room, and behind them, Moti found a little seclusion. Sometimes Moti felt thrilled there. She couldn't even cry out of fear, there were so many people in the house. In anger, sorrow, or humiliation, Moti's heart fluttered as if it wanted to fly away. Gradually it got late. The traffic on the street decreased, and the trams, illuminated for a moment at the top of the narrow street, could no longer be seen going by, and in the dim light, the tears of the beautiful Moti by the roadside and next to it came into view. She couldn't breathe easily. Kumud had forbidden her to cry, and even if one or two of Kumud's friends came, Moti wouldn't be too embarrassed. It wasn't that. There was no way to leave that room for even a minute, and with a friend or two joining them, Kumud's evening gathering would continue until eleven at night in the room, and even if she didn't feel a thousand times embarrassed, she couldn't leave. Meanwhile, the number of Kumud's visiting friends gradually increased at home, and they sat properly for a 'adda'. They didn't sit on the 'chowki'. They moved the 'chowki' aside and spread a bed and sheet on the floor, and everyone sat. Someone spoke continuously, someone laughed loudly after a while, someone hummed and folded a song's tune. From the beginning to the end, leaning against the wall, someone just drowsed. The air in the room became heavy with the smoke of beedi, cigarettes, and cheroots. Bonobihari's face now looked a little serious. Deepening his voice, he said, "What's the matter with you, tell me Kumud? We haven't even been there for six months, and you're already talking about leaving?"

If I didn't see you for seven days, we would have started worrying. Why did you suddenly leave us?

Bonobihari laughed now, maybe Jaya will come running and arrive here soon. I can't even imagine what punishment you will give him then. He might snatch Khuki and keep him hidden for a month. They are playing cards. Seeing the exchange of money, Moti understands they are gambling. "Abandonment? I don't have the nature of abandonment. It's just rising - in exhaustion." "Peace all day long by lying down! I won't tell you to leave anymore, Kumud." Kumud raised his voice and said, "I will leave, why so busy?" "What's the need? Just see, I will come running and arrive here in a day or two." The word Khuki sounds good to Moti in Bonobihari's mouth. Still, he pleaded, "Why Khuki again?"

Kumud says, how easy is it to pay the house rent, where will the extra money come from? Moti then replies, when there is such a lack of money, it is enough to rent a small house very cheaply. Moti doesn't like it here anymore. And even if it is not, let Kumud hang out at a friend's house. The shop is closed. And in the room right above the shop, a girl of Moti's age is lying on a table chair, arranging for sleep. Seeing this, Moti also feels sleepy. Moti doesn't have the courage to be so rebellious. He goes and knocks, says, "How will I stay if so many people come into the room?" Kumud lovingly says, "Can we turn away friends, Moti? Won't they torture you?"

Moti doesn't answer. Kumud is also lazy to get up and go near him. He says, "Listen, listen. Are you angry? Aha, don't listen." "Will you be afraid to leave you alone so late?" When the friends leave, Kumud says, "Should I spread the bed first? Should I bring down the stool? No, will you eat first?"

"No, I won't be afraid. I will lock the room." Moti says in fear, "Will you abandon me?" "Why?"

Dressed in an ordinary sari, she looks like a queen's maid. Jaya's appearance, speech, and mannerisms seemed strange to Moti. Calling Kumud by name like a guru, yet talking nonsense, who is this girl? From the first sight, an aversion towards Jaya arose in Moti's mind. A kind of strange compassion for Jaya, seeing Moti, seemed funny to her! Sitting for an hour, Jaya left.

Mati felt as if magic had been at play in the house for an hour – a feast! He couldn't quite understand why Jaya laughed, why she was so happy; he only sensed the deep intimacy between Kumud and Jaya, and felt a pang of jealousy. "I came to see you because you weren't there, brother. What's going on with you and Kumud? Did you hide your wife after the wedding? I sent him seven letters, but he never even remembered to mention Jaya, the life of my soul, bursting with curiosity! I was so surprised to hear you brought a wife from the village." "Jaya laughed, "Maya, perhaps?" Finally, learning to play the game of Maya, he looked at Mati and said, "Come here, sit down. I didn't bring a present for you, brother, money doesn't grow on trees. I'll buy it for you later. I'm just thinking of going back empty-handed today." Two days later, Banbihari arrived with his wife. Jaya was a little plump, but beautiful. A rosy complexion, a round face, a radiant appearance. Her eyes were dazzling, her gaze sharp. "I haven't felt very well for a long time, Mati. I came to Kolkata after a long time, so I'm just dropping in for a little chat," she said with a hint of weariness. Jaya looked at Mati with sharp eyes. "Oh, you sly thing, so Kumud is your daughter! That's why he kept her locked away like a doll! – Just look at her! Come, brother, let's go inside and take a closer look." Mati was surprised. A young woman, a friend. After a moment of silence, he said, "Well, won't her husband be angry that you're doing this with him?" Kumud found Mati's question amusing, my friend, that Mati. "A very old friend," Kumud said. Kumud said, "Slow down a little, Jaya, she'll run away. She's not a doll." Kumud said, "You have a big heart, Mati." "What were you doing?" Kumud asked. "Won't you play a game?" Banbihari said. "What's your name?" Mati didn't answer. Kumud looked at Mati for a while, silently, after lighting a cigarette. Then, slowly, he said, "I couldn't imagine that you had so much calculation at such a young age, Mati. You don't need to understand the value of money like this! You're a young man, you'll be in your own way, you won't have to worry about what will happen or won't happen. It's not that you're upset all day because you're short of money. You were so green in the village, it's amusing to see the result of your lack of foresight."

Sitting beside him, he said, "Are you thinking of becoming my mistress for a few pennies? Today I have seven rupees, let's be done with it today, think about tomorrow when it comes. Something will work out, money never stops a man from living." "At night, when the friends leave, spread all the money on the bed. You'll see where the money comes from. You'll die thinking about it." "Think again. Don't develop the habit of nagging, don't make a face like a scolded woman. Think about tomorrow what I said I'll give, why are you getting agitated today?" "What will happen then? Where will you get the money? How will you pay the hotel? He looks at Moti with frightened eyes, saying, "You lose money every day playing cards, why are you worried?" "It will be alright. Don't you know how it goes? I've been going on like this forever, don't I?" "Why are you thinking?" "It's not your job to worry about money!" A little later, seeing water in Moti's eyes, Kumud suddenly went out of the Punjabi dress. He said, "Don't be stingy even a little." Moti had never heard such harsh words from Kumud. Moti's tears dried up with her husband's first reprimand. Moti looked at Kumud's bags and boxes and said, "There are only seven rupees." "Did you hide the money?" Moti said sadly, "It will be lost again tomorrow. What will happen with this little money?" Moti still said, "How will you pay the hotel? What did you say you would give tomorrow?" Kumud laughed and said, "Is seven rupees too little, Moti?" Kumud said, "Where else would I hide the money?" "There isn't any more?" Moti's face dried up. The manager asked for the money one day. The car starts with a rumbling sound. Where are they going? Moti wonders, staying with Kumud, he feels like he is in danger, Kumud is a terrifying man. After driving for a long time, the car stops in front of a small one-story house in a narrow lane. After a while, the door opens and Bonbihari stands there. He said, "I didn't get the time to set up the auspicious platform, there is no conch shell in the house, I don't even know how to blow it, - measure it, Kumud." Nothing was filled in the newly purchased tin roof. Kumud said, "Let that be empty, Moti. All the other things have been tied up and taken away. Only a white sheet of cloth remained on the cot, and one pillow remained."

In the veranda hung a Punjabi, an old cloth, and a gunny sack. Then Kumud sent the servant to call the car. "Moti can't answer, he can't understand Kumud's accusations either, he just cries. Was he pretending to be a child? Is he still a child? He thought about money because he has no money, does that mean a person's childishness disappears with money? The next day the manager came asking for money and went back empty-handed. Moti couldn't understand why Kumud didn't give him the money even though he had it, and he didn't say anything out of fear. Seven days later, in the morning, Kumud bought a cheap tin roof. He told Moti, "Pack your things, Moti, I've fixed up a place, go to the house and rest. I can't stand this hotel anymore." "When? You don't understand anything, Moti, why do you stare at my face with a childish obedience to everything I say? Did you cheat me, pretending to be a child?" "I'll come tomorrow with money in hand. I was just being a little strategic about the money, otherwise I don't cheat anyone, Moti, I'll pay off the money in two or four months." The manager was nearby. When the car arrived and the luggage was loaded, Kumud locked the room. Seeing the new tin roof, the cot bed, and the clothes in the cupboard inside the room, the manager was a little reassured. He got into the car and words didn't come out of Moti's mouth. Kumud smiled gently. He said, "Thinking of cheating the manager? I'll give him the money, Moti." Kumud said, "I'm leaving my wife at my father's house, I'll return tomorrow afternoon. The luggage is there, please keep an eye on the room." Getting the news, the manager rushed. He said, "Did Kumud Babu leave?" "He'll come tomorrow." "You said you would give the money today?" "He'll come tomorrow?" The house hasn't been cleaned yet, but he has already tidied up his room. The care of the luggage is no less than the arrival, but everything is almost cheap. The pictures in the room attracted Moti's attention more than the things. All the pictures are hand-painted, small and large, unrestricted, watercolor, oil paintings, etc., countless colorful pictures cover all four walls. Seeing a very large picture, Moti suddenly felt ashamed. Jaya said, "We were in a hurry yesterday, that's why the rooms haven't been cleaned yet."

Well, with the two of them working together, it won't take long to fix everything. I've taken this house; it has more windows than my house, and I get a bit suffocated if I don't have some light and air. Your house is a bit smaller. But it's alright! You're a small person, and you don't have much furniture in your new home, so you'll manage. Jaya laughed heartily and said, "My dear brother, my Urvashi-satin! Are you coming down from the sky? The wind has blown your sari into a cloud behind you. Someone offered seven hundred rupees, and he's bidding a thousand! I told him to give seven hundred, why is seven hundred rupees less? Let the calamity depart! Actually, he doesn't want to sell at all!" With Jaya's help, Moti arranged the room. Comparing her room to Jaya's, Moti's room felt empty and stark, like a playroom. But that very afternoon, the furniture arrived. Who knows where Kumud got the money from, he cleared the hotel dues, he's not stingy. He brought tables, chairs, a mirror, and a large rug to fill the room, a beautiful blue-shaded table lamp and a good sari for Moti. A small house, with two adjacent bedrooms, a small veranda and a tiny courtyard in front, a kitchen on one side and an extra room attached to it like a porch. Standing in the courtyard, Jaya asked Moti, looking around, "You don't like the house?" Moti said, "The face is like yours." "That's why he's bidding a thousand rupees!" - Jaya laughed. Moti hesitantly said, "What's wrong?" Having escaped the confined life of the hotel and Kumud's friends' gatherings, Moti has breathed a sigh of relief here, but now his mind is only on Gaudiya. The young girl has pinned her hopes on him, she doesn't seem to have few dreams, if those come true this time. But he can't blend in here either. His habits and nature are wounded there as well. Remembering the familiar faces and familiar people of the village, Moti's eyes welled up. He hasn't seen them for so long. Perhaps in the evening he will talk to Mokshoda and Kusum. Shashi might also come and sit down someday. Who knows when Kumud will take him to Gaudiya. With the influx of new hope, Moti's mind is again filled with joy.

She carefully made the bed in the sitting room; arranged her few cosmetics on the table; neatly folded and placed her clothes in the almirah. She filled the table lamp with oil, ready to light it as evening approached. She repeatedly increased and decreased the wick, unable to decide on the right level. "Never mind, I'm sleepy," she said, sitting down in the chair and not getting up. She sat and chatted with Kumud. Although she couldn't understand a thing he said, English words would suddenly pop out of Jaya's mouth, surprising her. Jaya was Kumud's friend. Kumud had been her friend since he appeared in Gaudiya disguised as a prince. Mati's small heart swelled with jealousy. The joy of the evening vanished. "Whose room will you go to?" Jaya's teeth didn't quite fit in her smile. "Mati is surprised. What's so funny that you're laughing so much!"

Then, washing her face, she took Mati's hand and led her to the room. She said, "Kumud is shy to come to your room." Jaya had cooked that evening. It was the first time Mati felt shy to go to the room after dinner. Jaya, brushing her teeth, said, "Why are you hesitating? Go to the room." "Mati says, 'We'll sit here for a while, give Dad a letter! What are they thinking?'" Kumud was sitting quietly, reading a book. He said, "That's the rule. Sit down." "Will you increase it or decrease it? Please decrease it a little, what do you say?" "You go first, sister." Kumud said with a smile, "No, no, you go." Kumud said, "Have you forgotten in the meantime, Mati?" "What? What have I forgotten?" Days passed. While Mati didn't feel sad thinking that she would never go to Gaudiya again, a little hope and joy accumulated in her raw heart. Although there was a considerable lack of discipline, life here was more or less orderly. And sometimes, no matter how terrifying, cruel, and then Kumud seemed to enchant her with some strange magic. He had taught Mati to rely a little. She knew that no matter how penniless Kumud was after spending recklessly, he never hesitated for money. Besides, Kumud seemed healthy even in a completely empty state, borrowing from all sides. He was stingy about giving money; if there was money in the house, he couldn't sleep at night. Besides, Mati gradually realized another thing.

Kumud loves to just talk about breaking and rebuilding her, but she has no enthusiasm for actually doing anything. Kumud doesn't desire anything else in life, she is content as long as she can satisfy her whims. Rules, responsibilities, good and bad, right and wrong, are like poison to her. Kumud is also a chatterbox. When she makes grand pronouncements, it's enough for Moti to simply nod in agreement. Knowing this, Moti has become very carefree in many ways. However, serving Kumud makes Moti feel very weary and irritated. Sometimes she feels that Kumud sees her not as a daughter-in-law, but as a servant. Kumud has married her out of excessive love, wanting to serve her from fetching cigarettes to washing her feet. Moti craves a little playfulness, a little luxury and comfort for herself. Kumud's fiery temper makes it impossible for her to indulge in that. Moti observes the lifestyle of Jaya and Bonobihari with interest. They have confined their lives to this small house, making no effort to bring variety from the outside world. Bonobihari paints all day long, only going out to sell his paintings, otherwise confining himself to his home. Sometimes there is abundance, sometimes there is scarcity. Bonobihari is the complete opposite of Kumud when it comes to money. He never borrows a single paisa. Jaya is even stricter about this. Although two families live in one house, Jaya cannot even tolerate the exchange of potatoes and gourds between them. Moti will never forget the day she went to deliver vegetables to Jaya and was bitten by a dog. Kumud remembers Moti's great fear from that foolish, helpless moment at the well. Kumud did admit what she had said, but she couldn't understand then that even living with a prince would never make her mind accept being a village woman. A new life, a new world, being manipulated like a doll in Kumud's hands – she didn't have the strength to even imagine or understand this. Will Kumud keep her promise to the letter today? "You didn't tell me you would forget about Gaudiya – that there would be no relationship with Gaudiya? Didn't I explain to you before the wedding that if you come with me, you have to come completely, like you were born? I told you that letter-writing wouldn't be allowed either, Moti." "That's not true," Moti says in a faint voice. "That's why I thought you were joking?"

"No, no. I don't like giving and taking."

Joya doesn't quite mesh with Moti. There are meetings, there are stories and gossip, but affection doesn't seem to accumulate. Even when treated like family, Joya remains somewhat unfamiliar, and Moti doesn't find happiness in relying on her like a younger sister. The days they spend together are fine, but in the evenings, a mild irritation creeps in – everything is there, but where is the love? On the train during her arrival, Moti had a heart-to-heart with a fellow passenger, and it felt like a farewell of sorts. Where is the joy of shared sorrow in such intimacy? Is it only for money and a few other conveniences that they live together, and no real bond will ever develop between them? Joya isn't at fault. In her raw, enthusiastic emotions, she wants what she wants – a bit of exuberant affection and care, and why can't Joya provide that? Her upbringing is different. She doesn't neglect Moti, calling her "sister," teaching her to cook, styling her hair, offering good advice, and providing comfort. Joya lacks emotional depth. Moti finds her cold. Besides, Joya harbors a deep sorrow. Her husband's talent is failing her in its essence. She married an artist whose future was bright, and now he's making pots for a living. Joya needs empathy as much as anyone. Yet, Moti doesn't understand the nature of her grief. One day, while trying to explain to Moti, Joya dismisses not only her anger but also her rural simplicity and narrow-mindedness with a laugh. Narrow-mindedness isn't Moti's thing either. The fact that Joya had already taken over the good room before they arrived had been nagging at Moti. Without saying anything directly, she unknowingly revealed her feelings many times. They share the same kitchen and bathroom, side by side. On the days Moti cooks a good fish curry, the atmosphere in the kitchen is pleasant. But on the days Joya takes over the cooking, Moti's discomfort has no bounds. She feels small. She steals glances at Joya's cooking, and Moti's face darkens. Bonbihari loves Joya very much, however silent and behind the scenes that love may be, and Moti is left not understanding it. So, to prove Kumu's immense love for Joya in the dark, she creates a comical situation.

When angry, Moti's rustic nature is revealed. He said, "You have a big heart, little sister. You're bursting with pride." "Alright, alright, fine! If I ever have even a piece of lemon for you..." "Who's giving it to you then?" "Don't laugh! You're the one who laughs." "Laughing, am I, Didi?" Jaya laughs silently. Jaya didn't say anything. She just laughed a little. Moti said seriously, "Too much laughter isn't good."

The man, Banbihari, whom Jaya once wanted to portray as a talented and brilliant man to her husband, is not like that at all. Rather, he can be called timid. There is no doubt that he is very afraid of Jaya, more than Kumud. Why can't Moti understand Jaya's perception of such an innocent, ordinary man! Banbihari could have accomplished great things, his name would have spread throughout the country and abroad, only poverty held him back – Moti feels that Jaya has created this regret herself. Can a painter really become so great? Moti doesn't know what talent, art, and the establishment of an artist are all about, yet he can quite well realize the discordant aspect of Jaya and Banbihari's relationship. Jaya has all the brilliance, he thinks, her husband could have been a Latsaheb! Despite knowing his own capabilities, Banbihari, fearing Jaya, gives in to this, remaining suppressed and deprived in Jaya's presence. Like a dethroned king acting like a king in front of his wife, the poor householder is in the same predicament as Banbihari. Jaya has been hurt by the lack of resources. Moti is a little annoyed with the girl, thinking that she doesn't even have the capacity to understand how much of a life with immense potential has been crippled next to the house. Are those who are poets, artists, so easily swayed by such trivialities? Jaya said, "If I had money, Moti! He wouldn't have had to paint for money." "Everyone does everything for money, Didi, don't they?" Although he laughed it off, Jaya doesn't quite realize Moti's jealousy and suspicion of Kumud. Moti has now understood that the carefree Kumud is somewhat afraid of Jaya. He is very restrained here because of Jaya. Moti proudly says, "I know all that, Didi, I'm not as stupid as you think I am!" Jaya says irritably, "That's what I'm seeing."

Moti says this to Jaya in such a twisted manner that Jaya gets angry internally. "What do you mean? Why should I be afraid?" "How do you know? She might have stolen it." One day, Moti can't find her necklace. Shashi's gift, what happened to it? The day before, Kumud had given some money to Jaya for household expenses. Moti remembers this, yet she rummages through boxes and drawers, searching everywhere. Once, she lost her earrings by the pond, and Kumud bought her new ones without telling her. Today, will she steal Shashi's gift, her wedding jewelry, without telling her? Moti sometimes stops and stares at the painting of Bonobihari with a surprised look. In the painting of Bonobihari, the trees, houses, and people's clothes all seem strange to her. Realizing this, Bonobihari turns back and looks at her with affectionate eyes. He says, "I will definitely give you a picture of yourself when I get the time!" Hearing that the necklace is lost, Jaya starts to feel uneasy. There is a certain poverty in living together in two poor families. If someone loses something valuable, the thought lingers in the other's mind that they don't know what thoughts are stirring in the other's heart! And who knows what poverty can make people do? Jaya said, "You won't understand, Moti. An artist's heart desires so much, I can't fulfill it. Even with money, I can only manage for a couple of days, talent doesn't get any food." Moti, after thinking for a bit, said, "Why don't you save money? You spend everything as soon as you get it, you're just like her, Didi." "Search, Moti, search well. Hasn't it fallen somewhere? In the kitchen?" "Didn't I tell you not to?" "Why get angry?" Kumud said, "What's the point of the necklace? The money was useful." "What is it, Kumud?" Jaya was startled. Moti said, crying, "You didn't wear it, it was in the box! It's gone, Didi, it's gone forever." Moti angrily thinks, "Oh, listen to me once, you fool!" Moti was crying. Jaya said, "Money is useful, isn't a necklace useful, Kumud?" "I don't want a picture." - says Moti. When Kumud returns, Jaya tells him the news. Kumud says, "Why would I lose it? I sold it." Bonobihari laughs. He says, "If it's not okay with you, I won't say anything to you without Khuki, sister, not a single word."

Meanwhile, Mati's eyes fell upon Jaya, who was beckoning him. Approaching, Jaya said in a serious tone, "Don't bother him while he's painting, Mati." It was morning. Mati remained sulking all day. Kumud didn't call him even once. As evening approached, Mati's heart began to swell with emotion. Why this neglect from Kumud? He thought of the hardship he had endured for the jewelry. Perhaps if he had called and spoken a few sweet words to him, he wouldn't have felt so much sorrow for the loss. Jaya's anger was quite surprising. It wasn't visible in her face or eyes, nor did it surface in her voice, yet it was palpable. She said, "If the world were like your mind, I wonder how I would have lived in it. Should I pay the house rent or not?" "No," saying this, Mati went inside and lay down. But his resentment couldn't last with Kumud. He ended up going to the theater with Kumud and Sajia Gujia. There, when Jogesh, on stage, was evoking tears in Mati's heart with "Sajano Bagan Shukiye Gelo" (The decorated garden has withered), Kumud reprimanded him, "I've known you for a long time, Mati, don't whine to me." Jaya couldn't hold back anymore. With teary eyes, Mati saw for the first time that Kumud's face had darkened. A little before evening, Kumud suddenly left the room and came outside, putting his head under the tap and telling Mati, "If you're going to go out, wear some clothes." Mati was cleaning his precious table lamp with a cloth, and didn't respond. He only pulled the shade down, and it broke. Kumud said, "I can't see the world through the eyes of those women. All that jewelry." Jogesh's "Sajano Bagan" felt false to Mati in an instant. He said in a choked voice, "Will you fix it here? When will you fix it?" Rubbing his head, Kumud again said, "I told you to wear clothes, Mati!" Kumud said, "Do you think I sold the necklace just to give you the house rent?" Jaya now said angrily, "Don't say 'women,' Kumud, say 'men'." "Come on, let's go to the theater." Mati said in a tearful voice, "I won't go." "Men will be even more indifferent to jewelry." Mati turned his face away and said, "What did you say?" "I got a job here, Mati." "I got a job in this theater. They'll pay me one hundred rupees a month." "In the play that will be performed after this one." After that, Mati felt no more pain or regret.

All the Kumuds' tricks, bringing friends to the hotel rooms, deceiving the manager, carousing with Jay, selling off goods – Sabu Kumud has made them do all these things to test him. All this while, he's been having fun with him, but now, Kumud will surround him and create his own paradise. Looking at the brightly lit stage, Moti can no longer see Jogesh; instead, he sees the prince, Prabir, who looks very much like Kumud. Moti's heart swells with joy and pride. He can't wait to tell Jaya the news when he returns home. Jaya, upon hearing it, says, "You're taking on such a job, and you're quitting? How will you survive? Do one thing, Moti, secretly save some money from Kumud." Moti refuses to do so in his mind. He won't secretly save money, why? Kumud will never be held back by money; Moti now has unwavering faith in him. His eyes gleam with excitement as he undresses. He feels a sense of unprecedented carefree abandon – what's the point of calculations, what's the point of worries? Who cares about the advantages and disadvantages of having or not having ornaments? Kumuds are unparalleled, and their opinions are equally incomparable. Whatever happens, it will be fun. Moti throws himself at Kumud's chest. Overjoyed, he says, "Oh, listen, teach me to dance and sing, like the dance was today, I'll dance for you in front of you in the room." "Oh, what intoxication, what madness of recklessness, what intoxication of showing off the body – Moti was married that day, Moti is a simple girl from Gaudiya, has the disease of the Kumuds infected her in all this?" However, it is true that the relationship with the Kumuds has been for a long time, not just for a long time. Since the day he was bitten by a snake on the steps of Talpukur, this foreign, glass-like, oily insect has been captivating him. What do you mean? In the intoxication of joy, this little girl has said so much, does that even mean anything? Moti doesn't understand. Feeling ashamed of her lack of talent, she hides her face. She says, "I'll see the teacher every day, every day. I'll leave after keeping the red and green in the afternoon, okay?"

He has also started learning a little from Jaya. In the play where Kumud is called Part, Moti managed to learn it in seven days. Again, there is a sky-high accumulation of hope in his mind. Moti imagines so much, new imaginations have emerged in place of Gaudiya's old imaginations.

Moreover, it's as if he has newly fallen in love with Kumud. It feels like this is genuine love; the games in Gaudiya's grove were just playful, but now there's the possibility of a thrilling, deep love. What happened in between? Did Moti's heart become weary? Why does Kumud's kiss awaken such indescribable, unbearable joy in Moti – as if it's painful, not pleasant? Is this spring the first spring of life for Moti? Moti finds immense joy when Kumud looks at her face repeatedly while reading during work breaks; when Kumud is away, an inexplicable, novel joy flows continuously through her body and mind, whether she sits in a relaxed, weary posture or moves around, shaking her hands and feet. Even in trivial things, she finds a sense of delight. It's as if nectar is spread throughout all the scenes of this small world. Fifteen days later, a new drama began. Moti went to see the performances for three consecutive nights. Despite much effort, Jaya couldn't get Kumud to perform for her for even one day. Only Bonobihari Jaya secretly went to see him one day. Quietly, he praised Moti, saying that Kumud has the talent to act. When there's no performance, Kumud goes for rehearsals in the afternoon or evening. When Kumud is away, Jaya sleeps at Moti's place at night. Moti's sleep isn't disturbed in the morning. Kumud comes home and calls her after removing the makeup from his face, and even then, Moti wakes up much later. Jaya makes tea for Kumud. Jaya does many things for Moti, yet she remains lacking in many ways. Jaya says, "What's wrong with you? You're not eating properly, you're sighing from time to time, and speaking in a choked voice – what's the matter?" "Moti herself doesn't know what's happened." She shakes her head slightly like a fool. Jaya laughs and says, "You've been possessed. You're in love, Moti." Jaya becomes a little serious. She looks at Moti with a special kind of attention. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Moti says, "How long have you been married, Didi?" Then, the young girl Moti wants to convey something to Jaya, "My heart is restless, Didi." "Really? You got married at a young age?" "That's why you've been possessed." "Two years." Moti might not have even considered that it could be revealed one day.

Moti was astonished to see Jaya's sudden interest in knowing everything after such a long time. In short, Jaya didn't let Rakhiya-Dhakhiya say what she wanted to say. She seemed happy to embellish the truth even further. Jaya said in a slightly distressed tone, "I really feel like hurting you a little, Moti. Still, I won't say it. What to do? I don't know where they all are stuck, or what condition they are in. Besides, what's your fear, Moti? No one can take them away now. He had gone back, come once, and gone back to Gaudiya for you again!" Seeing Jaya's expression, Moti felt a great fear in her heart. What suddenly happened to Jaya? Those who couldn't bind Kumud, could Jaya be one of them? If that were to happen, Jaya would be in great distress. What wisdom brought Kumud here to live with Jaya? Gradually, Moti's heart fills with affection for Jaya. She feels more sympathy than anger. Within a few days, Moti understands that what has happened to Jaya is not temporary. It's as if she has shriveled up permanently. She doesn't seem to get any enthusiasm for work, nor is she always eager to arrange for the comforts and luxuries of her talented husband. She seems preoccupied with trying to understand some incomprehensible thing, furrowing her brow. Sometimes, Moti notices Jaya observing Kumud and the subtle exchanges of thoughts between them with intense attention. What is in Jaya's mind? Why is she giving him so much attention? Moti's heart pounds with fear. What does it mean to say such a thing? Did Jaya think that Kumud doesn't love her? Moti looks at Jaya proudly. Did you break the mistake of your long-time friend of Kumud? And don't come to play tricks with Moti. "You know, Moti, you were his girlfriend from birth, right? You've surprised Moti. You've tamed someone whom no one could bind with beauty, qualities, knowledge, dance, and song – a mere girl? You're no less than that!" "You're much more than that." "Come, let's go to your room, I have so many questions to ask. 'Who couldn't bind you, sister? Who is he? Do you know him?' 'I know, I won't tell you.' Then Jaya said, 'But does Kumud really love you, Moti?' 'Don't say it, sister, don't say it.' Moti replies, hurt, "Can't I live? Do you know how many lifetimes I've been his girlfriend?" "Did Kumud finally love you, Moti?" Jaya says.

During his leisure time, Banbihari would sometimes paint on a large canvas with bold strokes. Jaya had cared for this canvas like a household deity for so long, with no bounds to her caution. It wasn't for sale, nor was it for public display; it was the moments of inspiration that Banbihari poured so much color into. One day, this painting would make the artist famous across the country and abroad. Moti understood this implicitly. He only knew that among all the paintings, this one held something special. Once it was finished, great things would happen in connection with the painting. Day after day, Moti had heard Jaya and Banbihari discussing the painting. For some time now, Jaya seemed uninterested in these discussions. Yet, Moti had sometimes seen her looking intently at the almost completed painting, lifting the cloth with a sharp, piercing gaze. Jaya, slightly overweight, was reaching out with eager curiosity towards a beautiful, delicate child in the painting, a child with a skeletal frame – that was the painting. There was something strangely unsettling in the painting that Moti had never noticed before, but he knew it was his own fault for not seeing it. Who would believe Jaya that such a painting existed?

Much later, he gently knocked on Jaya's door and called out to her in a soft voice. After several knocks, Jaya replied from inside, "Moti, leave me alone, you're bothering me." Then, the cloth covering the canvas was removed. There was a moment of silence. Jaya entered the room and closed the door. While removing the cloth, Jaya felt as if her hand had been cut, and a few drops of fresh blood fell on the floor. Banbihari was cowardly, not cowardly enough to tolerate this. He said, "That's possible? If you were blind for so long, where did this sudden divine vision come from? Who opened your eyes? Was it Kumud?" "I was blind for so long that I believed you could conquer the world. You made me forget with your big words – you are a real trickster!" Jaya's voice was choked. Banbihari, suppressing his anger, said, "Why are you saying all this now, Jaya?" "Tear it up, tear it up – that painting. Inspiration! You don't know how to paint, and you talk about inspiration! Aren't you ashamed to talk about inspiration?"

A few days later, in the morning, Jaya tore the painting into shreds. Moti sat quietly in the room until Kumud returned. He felt very endangered.

He couldn't understand these complicated matters; the quarrels between husband and wife are quite natural, but what kind of quarrel was this? What did Jaya say, what did Banbihari say, what did it all mean? Mati felt as if he had a place in it somewhere, as if the quarrel wasn't just limited to Jaya and Banbihari. What had he done, what was his fault? If someone had told Mati. It was late when Kumud returned. Sitting Mati down in the room, he calmed him down as much as possible and told him everything. Mati was extremely agitated today, otherwise he wouldn't have needed to vent. Cooling down, Kumud went to take a bath. After dinner, he lay down on the cot and prepared for sleep. Mati said, "Won't you call Didi once?" "I can't not tell you, Kumud. Just listen now. I don't know if you'll understand, Kumud. You know I married him out of love, right? Suddenly I learned that it's not true." Then Jaya entered Mati's room. Mati couldn't eat anymore. He was afraid to get up, it was impossible to sit in front of the plate. Mati couldn't suppress his curiosity. He got up and stood outside the door. Kumud said calmly, "Well, we'll leave tomorrow. That's not so difficult. But if you don't tell me what happened, what kind of thing is that?" After bathing, Mati was sitting down to eat when Jaya opened the door and came out. Peeking into the kitchen, she poured a glass of water from the pitcher and drank it. Jaya was saying, "Kumud, you won't be able to stay here anymore. Get a hundred rupees, go and live somewhere else, see a suitable house today itself." "Now? Angrily, she slammed the door. Who will go to pacify him now, father? He'll come to kill me. Go, eat and come." Kumud said, "I'll explain later." Mati said, "I don't really understand anything myself. See how hot it is, fan me a little." Jaya sat in the chair and said, "There's no point in talking, Kumud. If you don't leave, we will. We'll leave by tomorrow." Mati said anxiously, "What's the destruction for? What happened? Tell me, explain to me? My head is spinning, Babu." Mati said fearfully, "Why are you quarreling, Didi?" Jaya said, "You're just like a child, Mati!" Kumud said, "That's the destruction, Mati." Kumud sat up on the bed and said, "Come, Jaya. Sit down and tell me everything that happened."

Tears welled up in Jaya's eyes; the depth of her suffering was evident. Leaning forward slightly, she said, "People can make mistakes in everything, Kumud, but never in breaking promises. I want to die of shame and sorrow. How could I make such a mistake? How did I maintain this false paradise for so long? How much self-confidence I had! I felt like I was in a different world, that no one could love me like I was loved, that my love was true, and everyone's was just a game. I was so self-satisfied, thinking I was atoning for the failed life of a true artist by saving my talent, imagining the simple life of everyone else. My own lies have destroyed me. What do you say, Kumud? I don't know if you understand how ashamed I am to face Moti -" Kumud said, "What do you know, Jaya, everyone deceives themselves. When hungry, we eat; when sleepy, we sleep; isn't life made for that? Who acknowledges the pain of creating excuses to deceive ourselves? Most people don't even have the capacity to understand this; they never break promises in their entire lives. If you can't understand, then what's the point of promises?"

"Some realize it, and they suffer. Those who understand and analyze life and want to live that way are the most unhappy. They see that everything they cling to is false. That's why having great expectations from life is so bad for such people – the bigger the expectations, the greater the sorrow. You know how I've always been carefree, irresponsible, never planning for tomorrow or the day after, no intention of settling down in life, no headache for the chores of the household. I never told anyone why I became like this. I've known for a long time. If I had wanted something big in life, I would have ended up like you, Jaya. I just sat back and collected a lot of things. So what if it all falls apart now? – In a blink of an eye, Jaya seemed to fade away, looking like a dead person. Then she said – I just can't understand how I deceived myself for so long with such passion. Am I such a beautiful, perfect, foolish person, Kumud? I'm not an idiot!" Jaya said, "No, you also loved her, and she loved you too. A few days ago, I suddenly had a doubt. I never noticed before."

Then, after observing you both for some time, I realized that my understanding of love was completely wrong. I didn't love him; I loved his talent. Kumud, do you know what I saw the day I understood this? His talent was also an illusion – all my imagination. "I'm understanding the book. But you know, there's a big difference between your experience and my understanding."

Kumud paused for a moment, "Hey, I'm daring to say something. You won't laugh it off, will you?" Kumud smiled faintly and became serious, "I don't know exactly, Jaya. It's very possible. We'll know for sure after some more days." "Look at them, Kumud. You love Mati, don't you?" "How do you know?" "You can be wrong too?" "Another house-switching hassle? Jaya won't let them stay here, will she? No, it's good. They'll be happy in the new house." Mati's face was heavy with anger. Poor thing still couldn't understand what had happened, even after Kumud's explanation. He tells Jaya, "What crime did I commit, you know? If you don't do good, you push me away, even if I do good. Remember that. I'll tell everyone." "I used to see everything as false. Now I want whatever I want. I don't force anything – I accept whatever comes my way, I don't have any expectations. Even if there's a big gain, I take it lightly. I was saying I loved Mati, if she and I separate tomorrow, I'll get over it in two days. I'll get over Mati." "Bonobihari had returned in the afternoon, a serious and sad Bonobihari. Mati saw that their conversation in the morning hadn't ended. Bonobihari ate and gave Jaya some money. But a distance of unfamiliarity had come between them, a great emotional distance between the two." Mati said, "Won't you go to the theater today?" Kumud said, "No." Jaya was suddenly surprised. "What do you mean, what did you say that for? You know Kumud, you could never attract me that way, could you? You never had that kind of attraction for me." Jaya smiled faintly and said, "How wonderfully you can say things, Kumud." "Mati, come to the room. Listen as much as you can, you won't understand these things. How much we lonely people suffer." Kumud said helplessly, "I know that. I didn't hint at that, Jaya."

We came and tore down your house, so I was saying that even if you leave, our memories will haunt you. "You are such a terrible person, I would say. One thing in your mind, another on your face. How much love you show! Where did all that go? I am also a strong girl, if you don't take my name in your mouth, it's like a fly in your mouth." Jaya said, "Yes. I know all this. But don't give a speech, Kumud will come to see the house tomorrow and you will leave. I can't bear to see you loving me in front of my eyes." "What will I tell everyone if I don't take your name in my mouth?" "You won't be able to, even behind closed eyes." "You will step on it? Do as you please. Strange, if you don't do anything out of the ordinary, how will you survive? If I were Mati - 'it's a different matter. Mati cries and cries. And doesn't speak anymore. To do something else - strange, out of the ordinary. The joy of living itself is out of the ordinary, Jaya, out of the ordinary, if you don't do anything' - 'what will I say?' For a few days, Mati's mind was with Jaya here. She had learned to depend on Jaya in some matters. However, Mati had no time to think too much about Jaya. Worldly considerations, conflicts with people, all this has become insignificant, and all claims and demands with everyone have become trivial except for Kumud. The next morning, the car was called to take the luggage. Jaya only said once that it would have been better if we had lunch before leaving. Bonobihari said nothing. Without saying goodbye to Jaya, Mati hurriedly got into the car. While talking to Kumud, Jaya came and stood at the door. Meanwhile, Kumud, having come to the new house, no longer goes to the theatre. He spends his days lying down, reading books, and smoking cigarettes. One day, Mati demanded an explanation, "Why don't you go to the theatre?" Suppressing the smoldering fire in Mati's mind, Julia got up. Why did she come alone, did Jaya think that if she didn't come to meet her, Mati wouldn't eat? After the car left, she told Kumud, "You will never be able to come to know. And they kicked us out! The play didn't go on. They said they would reduce my salary, so I resigned. The actors will take the play, if it doesn't work out, they will blame the actor. Mati prefers Yatra to theatre." Kumud had rented two rooms on the third floor of a house, there is also a separate kitchen. Mati was happy to have two rooms instead of one, which was a sign of progress. Kumud said nothing.

Mati again said, "I knew he was selfish from the very beginning. Before we arrived, he had already occupied the best room. That's how it is. When there's no play going on, it's natural for the manager to be at fault. The actors aren't going to take the blame if there's no play running. It's good that Mati, I don't want to stay in the theater." "I've left the job, Mati," Mati said with wide eyes, "Didn't they say your acting wasn't good?" Jaya said, "Who knows if they did or not." Mati, with a face like a ripe guava, said, "What will you do now?" Kumud said, "We'll meet again, Jaya." "Will you take the trouble to keep in touch, or just occasionally?" "Don't remember such trivial things, Mati," Kumud said. "Come alone." "Why?" Days pass. The monsoon arrives. Standing on the narrow veranda by the window of the house, Mati sees only a forest of bricks, yet even within that, he discovers the imprint of Gaudia. The two-story house on the south overlooks a large man's garden, the palm trees there seem to hint at Gaudia's Talbon to Mati. Seeing the fried snack shop in the street below, Mati remembers Gaudia's Bipin Mairar shop - seeing a stranger being shown the way in a rural setting reminds him of Gaudia's acquaintances. The kites that fly in the sky here look like the kites in Gaudia's sky, the clouds gathering and raining heavily are a perfect imitation of Gaudia's familiar monsoon. Mati said this with an unperturbed face. Our dear Mati, Kumud has left his job. He was not disturbed to hear it, nor did his face become pale at the thought of giving up jewelry. How did such a change come to Mati? Kumud is indeed a magician. Kumud, a wandering thinker, has a strange ability to control people. He doesn't follow the rules and regulations of the world, he follows his own rules with dedication. Kumud's radiance is not diminished, his mentality is formidable. Building one's own world of survival with one's own strength is not an easy feat. Kumud can erase mental anguish, he doesn't think, he doesn't cry, he doesn't accept sorrow and misery, even a calculating and cautious mind is at ease with him. Mati hugged Kumud's neck with pride, hiding his face in his chest and smiling faintly with a touch of irony.

A few feet above the sprawling city, in the cramped room of this small town, no one would recognize the actor Swami's voice as Moti. That Moti of Gaudiya, a dangerous man, Kumud, who spent so long cutting bonds and living a life of irresponsibility, a ruthless man, it's surprising to see Moti's carefree dependence later. One day, Kumud actually comes back with Moti's jewelry. It's not that Moti feels bad for a moment, but the kind of grief that came with the initial loss doesn't really happen to Moti. As soon as Kumud returns, even the little scolding is erased from his mind. He repeats, "If you sold the jewelry, why would I bring anything for you?" Kumud takes that necklace out of his pocket and gives it back, even the jewelry that he had gone to sell today. What kind of drama has Kumud learned to perform? Kumud laughs and says, "I'll do it, I'll do something! Why are you thinking like that? If needed, won't I give you a couple of pieces of jewelry?" Then Kumud says, "I brought something for you, Moti." Kumud says, "I didn't bring anything." "Then why would you bring it, you won't bring it anyway!" Moti says, "Take it." "Tell me, give it." In response to this, Adhikari, considering Kumud as a mediator, said, "You decide whether you are angry or not. Where would he run with so much money?" "Why would he run, sir, he didn't run. I had taken leave from Kama, maybe I got married. I was thinking of coming to you once today." Kumud won't get Amon's daughter. You saw her father, didn't you? Tell me, tell me, is it easy to find a girl like that? You didn't consider her then! What nonsense are you talking about?" Through another person, Kumud had sent a message to Adhikari of the Vinodini Opera. Within two days, he arrived at Kumud's house. As soon as he entered the room, he said, "Well, you are a man, I heard that Kumud ran away with Amon? - You have no shame at all!" Kumud laughed and said, "So what? If the group is not good, why would my party be successful?" Adhikari said in surprise, "Did you get married? Did you really get married?" - He doesn't seem to believe it easily. Then he said seriously, "If you did, father, why didn't you do it with my daughter? What fault did my daughter commit, tell me?" Adhikari sat and talked for a long time. He also came to an understanding with Kumud.

Kumud will join Binodini Opera again. The money that was taken for advance has been cancelled, it was taken as dowry for the wedding. It's impossible to stay with Kumud, Adhikari will leave without ruining him, that's what Kumud also says, "He has a lot of money. I won't give it back, nothing will come of it." It doesn't write on the leprosy. In the invitation, Moti's words get entangled. This is not just about getting jewelry. What else has Kumud given her, to that naive young bride? Kumud said, "Very well, I'm very happy to hear that. Are you very angry with me?" Kumud said with a smile, "Sit down, sir, sit down. How are you? How is the team going?" Adhikari left that day with a full face of laughter. Kumud remained silent. Adhikari remained a little absent-minded for a while. Moti laughs heartily, "I don't care, I know what will be given back!" "The business is going well. The team has improved even more after you left." "I borrowed from a rich friend." "The team has to be rebuilt, but you know, it's not enough to just say 'party'!" "Where will you get the money?" Kumud will travel again, roaming around the country and abroad, dressing up as a prince. What will happen to Moti? Where will she stay? With whom? This is not a simple problem. But it doesn't seem like Moti has any worries. In the intoxication of happiness, she is lost, her ability to think seems to be gradually disappearing. Gaudiya? Moti seems to be startled. She had ordered to erase the memory of Gaudiya, and now she is talking about going there again. Moti looks into Kumud's eyes. What is Moti looking for in Kumud's eyes? In a moment, Kumud changes shells, cancels what he said today, tomorrow, yet is it possible that there is such an unchangeable thing in it that its essence makes even a girl like Moti helpless? In response to this letter from Moti, both Paran and Shashi came to Kolkata. Shashi's arrival was not only to see Moti, there was work. Shashi had planned to say many things to Kumud. Nothing was said. Seeing Moti, he became speechless. Has this Moti grown up so much in the rural atmosphere of Gaudiya? It's as if an unfamiliar girl from an unfamiliar world has lived here for so long and is standing before him for the first time.

She didn't want the flickering light of a falcon's wings anymore, but the gentle radiance of water-washed light. How heavy her gait, how enchanting her posture. Even Moti's finger movements seemed honeyed and meaningful today. It felt as if her body and mind were constantly yearning for attraction and invitation, etched into every moment. Such thoughtful words. Yet, Moti felt pained to hear them. Does Kumud respect such talk? Even three months ago, Moti would have been happy to see Kumud as a considerate man. Now, she didn't want that anymore. And Kumud, who speaks grandly, lies around instead of working, and still expects affection. Kumud finally spoke. He said, "I am going on a journey now, where will you stay, Moti?" Kumud said in private, "How are you treating Shashi Moti?" Kumud said, "Write a letter to your father to come and take her away, Moti." Moti tilted her head and said, "You should say that, shouldn't you?" Kumud said seriously, "I will gather the group, collect the money, everything is yet to be arranged." Moti said seriously, "You should write the address, right?" "Stay there for a few months. I haven't arranged this side yet." "No, you write it." "Will Gaudia go?" "Why are you asking Gaudia to go?" "What will you arrange?" "You write it, won't you?" For not giving news for so long, Moti felt a little hesitant towards Paran and Shashi, but since no one paid attention to it, she forgot the matter in a short while. Paran has become very ill, and seeing his sad, dry face, she felt great compassion. She repeatedly asked what illness Paran had. Then, she carefully inquired about the village, Mokshoda, and Kusum. A little shy, a little bold. As a bride, this was her first time standing before her father and mother-in-law in her own home, in her own family. It was also her right to show a little of a housewife's concern in inquiring about news from her father's house. In the heat of Bhadramas, with a fan, Moti cooled them down, offering them cool water to quench their thirst. How perfect and tender was Moti's work today, how soft her service. Moti cooked with great care today. Sitting down to eat, Shashi praised the cooking, but Paran didn't eat anything at all. When Moti paid attention, he said, "I have a sore throat, Moti, it's difficult to eat curry and vegetables."

In the joy and happiness of Mati's radiant face, all the neglect Shashi had ever felt towards Kumud seemed to vanish. Shashi, who had never discovered the essence of Kumud's life, was contemplating that very subject today. What was this incomprehensible secret wealth within Kumud that, despite life throwing curveballs, kept him afloat in his splendor? Stunned by Mati's anxious question, Shashi forgot to laugh. Only those whose thoughts churn like a turbulent sea become so restless upon hearing of someone else's wound. Para couldn't quite grasp it; he smiled slightly and said, "How would I know why I have a sore throat? Chhotobabu is the only doctor I know." "You grew up in Gaudiya, didn't you? You can't stay there." "I grew up in Gaudiya, and I can't stay there? 'Still, drink milk, eat yogurt, and bring sweets.'" "Even with less spice, I can't eat vegetables, Mati." "What have you done to Kumud?" "He has a sore throat? Why?" Para was drawing Mati's mind more and more towards Gaudiya. It wasn't just the sore throat preventing him from eating; it was because of that, his grandfather's massive body had withered away. After going to Gaudiya, he would now take special care of his grandfather's diet, such a detached Para, indifferent to his own comfort and convenience! Mati's mind also stirred with the desire to show everyone how much he had learned, how clever and resourceful he had become. Everyone would be astonished. Who knows what the girls from Kusum village would ask with eagerness, where he had been all this time, what his story was. When the car arrived in the afternoon, just before Kumud's departure, Mati became terribly agitated; she was so overwhelmed with sorrow that she herself was surprised. Her heart was crying even as she left the village, wasn't this sorrow different? What sorrow was it anyway? What was she losing forever? Maybe for fifteen days, maybe for...

Kumud laughs and says, "Why, didn't you see it with your own eyes? Jaya was a man, Bonobihari was a girl. Wasn't it?" Shashi once said, "Come on, Mati, let's go to the station and put Kumud in the car. Shall we go?" "Let's go, let's go, what's the point of being busy?" Kumud exclaims. Kumud says, "That's how it is these days, Mati." Grabbing Kumud tightly, Mati says, "Let's go!" Mati doesn't laugh. "Won't you even look at Jayadi once?"

The whole world seemed to be darkening in his eyes. Couldn't Kumud understand what he understood? He had even taught Kumud's cruelty to love, yet today he was hurt. A passenger train left from the next platform – Moti's heart was being crushed under its wheels. There was no time left, no way out. And Kumud couldn't be sent back. Even though his heart would break after this train left, he couldn't stop it. How would he explain his anxiety to Kumud now? Who returns after getting into a train to leave? Stunned even Kumud by saying this, Moti entered the lavatory. The train whistle blew, the guard signaled, Shashi and Paran became restless on the platform, yet Moti didn't come out. As the train started moving, Shashi said, 'Shall we get on, or should we pick up Kumud at the next stop?' Kumud said this and that, the ever-slow, steady, unwavering Kumud. Moti's voice wanted to be choked, yet he answered with all his might. The minutes passed one by one. Shashi and Paran returned just before the train was about to leave. How long had Moti written to them to come to Kolkata, when they reached the station, it was still full of sunlight. There was a delay in the train's departure. The train wasn't crowded, after sitting in the compartment for a while and talking to Kumud, Shashi got off calling Paran. He said, 'You guys, we're just going for a little walk.' Shashi and Paran were stunned by Moti's natural shamelessness – Shashi even got off the train a little angrily. Seeing the extraordinary patience gathered in the separation-grief of the young girl Moti, Shashi understood that it wasn't the exaggerated sentiment of a girl, nor the temporary emotion of a raw heart. There was no way for him to hold Kumud's two feet and cry. The people in the train were probably looking at him with laughter. Kumud smiled softly and said, 'What will Moti do if she acts like ripe guavas?' What will she say?' Moti said, 'You guys get off, I'm getting off after saying one thing.' Then Shashi said, 'Come on Moti, we're getting off now.' 'I'm telling you to wait – I'm coming.' When they left, Moti said to Kumud with a faint voice, 'You must not go. I can't stay, I'll die.' 'It's been happening since yesterday. Why didn't you say anything yesterday?'

And if not, well, that's not entirely unenjoyable either! "It feels like saying goodbye at the station," Mati said. "It's been like that since yesterday." Mati embraced the chaotic life with her wandering, home-averse husband – our little girl, Mati. Perhaps one day they'll seek shelter in the nest of their love, perhaps one day they won't be able to avoid building a nest for their child's needs – the conventional rules of life will become inevitable for them too. Today, nothing can be said. The story of the dolls is projected in that narrative – their story ends here. If I have to say it, I'll write a different book. All the people in the car were staring at them curiously; no one noticed. When the car passed the platform, Mati got out. She said, "What happened? Why couldn't I get off?" "Were you thinking about where you'd stay and what you'd do if you came with us?" Kumud asked. Mati replied nonchalantly, like Kumud, "What else is there to think about?" "No, no, it's alright. I'll arrange everything, Shashi," Kumud said, forbidding her. Kumud smiled and said, "Nothing will happen, Mati, dear. Why pretend? You could have just said you'd come with us?" "What would happen then?" Mati said, sitting down, "They would have caused trouble." "Who could do that anymore?" The commotion of establishing the hospital has ended; Shashi's fame and honor have not diminished. The collective mind of the public is always monolithic, when it turns in a particular direction, it starts moving in that direction with all its might and freshness. That is also the reason why the crowd becomes a single entity to behold. Small events become big in people's mouths – that's how people are. Shashi hasn't done anything extraordinary. He has only fulfilled the responsibilities that Yadav had thrust upon him, and that too, well. The result has been unprecedented. Everyone has elevated him to a high position, placing him in the seat of a leader. In several places, Shashi's oratory skills have also opened up remarkably. He now has to speak often in meetings and gatherings, and everyone listens to him with rapt attention. When Shashi speaks with emotion, the meeting becomes filled with emotion, and when he tells a joke, the surrounding animals and birds are startled by the sudden burst of collective laughter. Like all the busy doctors at the hospital, Shashi feels like he has no time to breathe! While talking, he keeps writing prescriptions.

It's not that the patient has come too often, but it will take some time for the villagers to overcome their fear of the hospital. A man, about six or seven puruṣa tall, stands in front of Shashi's table, while a young woman sits on the platform outside the door, held half-conscious by an older woman, probably her mother-in-law, with one hand on her back and the other on her forehead. Perhaps they are both seeking courage in each other. These are just a few patients; Shashi didn't even have time to ask Paran to sit down. One morning, Paran arrived at the hospital. It's sad to see his emaciated figure, wrapped in a shawl around his neck. Shashi didn't have time to feel sorry. He has so much responsibility, so much work. How could Paran have become so ill, even with a doctor friend like Shashi? What happened to Paran? A sore throat, unable to eat? That happened a long time ago, when he went to Kolkata to bring Moti back after receiving her letter. Why hasn't that sore throat healed yet? Shashi is surprised and says that a sore throat shouldn't last this long – didn't he take the medicine he prescribed? Had he been sleeping all this time? The newly built hospital looks very beautiful. A small, red-painted brick house.

From time to time, Shashi feels that he had decided to leave the village, but the countless bonds of village life have tied him down. This sudden popularity has trapped him here. Fortunately, it's not a reward, but a burden. He didn't want this kind of honor and prestige, did he? This serious form of life has overwhelmed him somewhat, but what can he do with this kind of fulfillment? Paran sat on the platform. After seeing the arriving patients one by one, Shashi took Paran to the small room in the south corner of the hospital. It's his private room. Shashi was a little annoyed with the committee members on the occasion of this private room. What need does a poor, unpaid doctor of a small village hospital have for a private room, like a magistrate? Shashi didn't listen to anyone. Like a self-interested person, he has beautifully decorated this room. Who can understand Shashi's state of mind? The old committee members certainly don't know that Dr. Shashi would like to stay in the hospital, in the free bed, even when he doesn't need to!

It's possible that Shashi is the only one in this world who realizes that the reason he feels so out of place at home is not because Paran doesn't have shoes, or because his shirt is unironed, or because his hair is a mess. Shashi wouldn't possibly neglect the friend who, while sitting in a corner of the house, was planning world domination, the friend whose memory of affection led him to send Kusum out of the house on a bright, dusty afternoon, wouldn't he? Shashi wouldn't ignore the one who created such a small hospital, would he? There's a chair by the table, but Shashi directs Paran to sit on the stool nearby. The more Shashi examines the wound on Paran's neck, the more serious his face becomes. He says, "You're in pain, Paran, you're in pain. Why can't you say so? You should be able to. Here, have some water." "You haven't had a fever like Paran, you're not in a state to be thirsty."

Once he got up and entered the room upstairs, came out and looked at the sky towards the east, then, throwing the bunch of keys on Shashi's back as he entered the big room, said, "Oh! It's time, isn't it?" It was time to go to the hospital before it got late. He had gone to his in-laws' house. It hadn't been long. Not even twenty days. But in this situation, even that seemed too long. The in-laws' house was gone. The field was there. Now, even with a weak body, he couldn't avoid going to the field to sow the winter crops. Kusum never got angry, but today she was terribly angry, throwing the bunch of keys on her shoulder and making her face dark, she said, "There's no time to sit around, is there?" Shashi happily said, "Seeing your smile revives me, sister. In a crowd, I get harassed, no one smiles at me like you except you. I don't have a single friend, sister!" "Doesn't the workman ever sit down for a moment? If I sit down to rest for a bit, I feel restless, this disease isn't good, young master. The servant isn't anyone's, is he?" "Me? I'll send him?" - Kusum laughed a little, even though her face turned red with shame, she said, "What kind of man is he? If I had sent him, would he have spoken so clearly? How embarrassing it would be to hear that?" Now Shashi stood up and said, "There's no time to sit around, sister. If Paran comes, send him to the hospital." "There's no sister either!" - Kusum laughed a perfect, full laugh. Then she asked, "What happened to his throat?" "If you knew yourself beforehand, then I would have told you. Don't let him eat anything but milk, sister." Shashi said, "He'll come soon. Will I sit and cry saying he'll come soon? Do I have no work?" Kusum said, "I told you not to go, but you went anyway." Shashi said, "Today your words sound very sweet, sister." "Why, is there any fault in saying it?" "You said he'll come soon." "What else can I give him to eat? Even drinking milk is difficult." "Your face is sweet because you ate sweets." Kusum said sadly, "Who knows where the old woman of the neighborhood has gone." Shashi said, "I won't say it today, listen tomorrow." Shashi said, "Seeing the house empty, where is Paran's mother?" Shashi said suspiciously, "Did you send him somewhere, deceivingly?" It cannot be said what happened in the blink of an eye after talking. Kusum never goes anywhere. She never expects anything to happen every moment.

What happened to Kusum today? Why did she suddenly leave Shashi in such anger that Shashi was devastated to see her rage? Seeing the picture of distress on Shashi's pale face, at least Kusum should have felt remorse. But it's never been like that. Standing on the high hill of Talbon, while watching the sunset one day, Shashi's heart was very restless, she was trembling with unprecedented emotions, and standing alone in the shade of the house in the afternoon, she was overwhelmed by another emotion. This is village Shashi, a rural housewife with a thatched roof, in a mud-plastered room, the woman who left after saying those words, without her blouse on, without fragrant oil in her hair, she hasn't suffered so much on her face for her. Her emotions are like the waves of a stagnant pond. There are ocean waves in the world. The people of Bhingaon were sitting in the hospital. Shashi has to go now. Now? After coming from Kusum, she has to go to Bhingaon now. Shashi has to think about a few things, she has to calm her mind a little. The people of Bhingaon slowly return to Bhingaon. Patients are giving Shashi medicine today! Why is Shashi so angry, why so much meanness? Why so much unrefined roughness in words and behavior? Who is standing in front of her today, Shashi is thinking, a great worry arises in her mind, the thirst to give a greater dimension to life always remains awake. Shashi is still angry, "If there is daylight, I will not go, will I go in the dark? Can anyone see a sore throat in the dark, no, can they apply medicine to it? Nothing will happen today, come tomorrow morning." Shashi said with embarrassment, "Tell me to sit, I will sit. Don't make such a fuss, dear. If the work is not done on time, the work is not wasted, there is no time to sit and chat. If you stay, I will stay too" - the words are not incomprehensible, yet it seems as if Kusum is trying to make her understand. Shashi seems like a stranger to Kusum, who is staring at her like this. When Paran came, Shashi said, "I told you I would go, wasn't I at home?" Shashi said a little surprised, "Don't you know the patients have come and are sitting in the hospital?" Paran explained, "I didn't understand that you would leave so late." "Don't make excuses. If you can't pay, show your fists." "It will cost twenty rupees, sir." "I have been there for nine years. Not one or two days." "Twenty rupees!" The people of Bhingaon are surprised. "He stays every day." - Kusum said.

Paran didn't come in the morning, nor in the afternoon. The previous day, in the afternoon, remembering his disturbed state, Shashi had become a little annoyed. Why does this madness come over him from time to time? He feels like hitting the person in front of him, smashing things and creating a mess. Shashi feels very unhappy then. He feels like he wants many things but gets nothing. Just as the house is filled with clutter in the name of cleaning, his life has been wasted in bad pursuits. What's the point of leaving his village? If he always wants things that are not immediately available, things for which the ability to enjoy life diminishes while waiting, then what's the use? Shashi suspects there's some kind of confusion in his head. Those who want to live differently in the future don't find the present so dull and meaningless. What is he lacking? What is his sorrow? He has a beautiful, healthy body, no lack of money or respect, and at least one person has a heart full of affection for him. As long as he is here, he can easily enjoy and maintain a little excitement in life. What's the benefit of living here like in someone else's house? Mokshada said, "Sit down, father, sit down. Why are you leaving without sitting down? I told Paran so many times - you're going to Bajitpur for work. Since Shashi has been here, no one has even seen my throat, father. What did the young man say to the government doctor when he came to Shashi?"

Mokshoda Chatia said, "So, you went to Bajitpur, didn't you? So, you went to Bajitpur, and now you'll keep making up stories about what happened there, won't you? What didn't Ma do in the kitchen?" Before, Kusum would giggle at every little thing. Today, there was no smile on her face. She said, "I went to Bajitpur to see if Chhotobabu's wound has gotten worse." The next morning, she went to Paran's house. No, Paran isn't home yet. Mokshoda was sitting on the veranda, and she said, "Paran has gone to Bajitpur to show the wound on his throat." The day and night passed, and Shashi's heart pounded. Shashi suspected that Paran had cancer in his throat, and she couldn't find peace without knowing for sure if it was true or not. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe Kusum, being careless, had mistaken a simple sore for something serious and given him a cold compress. Shashi said, "No, not at all. She has exaggerated it. Paran isn't here, and Shashi herself will have to go to Bajitpur and ask the government doctor what he said, which is a source of shame for Shashi. And what if Kusum suddenly shows up one day with some trickery? Why doesn't she come? Why doesn't she say where she goes? She has missed weeks of coming and going, and yet, there's almost never a chance to meet Kusum unexpectedly! One very early morning, as Shashi was standing on the road in front of the house, she saw Kusum standing in front of her own house. Kusum also seemed to have seen Shashi. She didn't even wave; she didn't even come forward. Shashi stood there for a moment. The deserted street of Kaetpar, disappearing into the open field, still holds the royal road in Shashi's life, the road that has called to her, the road on which all of them have left their footprints. Only Kusum remains of them, and today, only Kusum walks on this road. There is no dispute, dispute is not for them, yet a fear has entered Shashi's mind about Kusum, as if her behavior is becoming harsh. Shashi doesn't know what there is to be afraid of, she only felt sad. Now, happily, Shashi said, "Has your curiosity decreased? It has? That's good. So, the medicine from the doctor in Bajitpur has reduced Paran's throat wound?" Shashi's medicine had increased the wound. Shashi cannot imagine such great misuse by Paran. She gave him the opportunity to get better, and then she didn't give him the opportunity to get worse. The wound on Shashi's throat, which had increased with the medicine, remained a permanent truth. One day, he didn't take the medicine or come to her, didn't he?

Kusum smiled sweetly, "Oh, really? That's how it goes, isn't it? It's the way of the world. The clouds in the sky decrease, the water in the river increases – otherwise, how would the world function, right? It's happened! It's become a huge hospital. How's the hospital running? How are the patients? You only know about these things. It seems your interest in me is decreasing, son."

"Is there anything wrong with that?" Shashi laughed. "Why would I call you to the grove just to talk? Come on, ask about Paran."

Shashi said these things to Kusum while coming to inquire about Paran. This was his main purpose. Before leaving, he wanted to know about Paran. Paran's throat wound had healed. "You'll stay standing, and I'll go closer?" "I was standing to see you, son, thinking you would go closer." "Who knows what has increased, something must have grown." Slowly, Shashi approached Kusum. "What else do you know? What new things have happened in the village?"

The pot for cooking *panchana siddha* lay abandoned, the cupboard was filled with various medicines in small bottles, and the hook remained empty – the old Jaminir heart palpitations and the *haman distar's* rhythmic thumping had ceased. Kripanath, Sendidir's uncle, arrived – he was also a *kabiraj* (traditional healer). He arrived with his family, started smoking hookah, and began examining Jaminir's collection of medicines. It seemed as if Jamini would continue to prepare *panchana siddha*, and the *haman distar* would again make its *thuk thuk* sound. Paran's throat wound had healed. His body was not well. He appeared even more sickly due to his large frame. Shashi could prepare a tonic for him with a little strychnine that would restore his complexion in a month – strychnine is very beneficial for muscular fatigue in a weakened body! Shashi insisted on this. Who knows, if he took one dose of the tonic Shashi gave him and his body got worse, would he then go to the government doctor in Bajitpur again? Of course, one doesn't want to believe it, but there's no way to disbelieve it. This is not a hearsay, it's a seen event. What divine compassion was it that made the gods give Sendidi a son after her sudden and unexpected transformation? Ah, if only human suffering could be so easily alleviated, then why would Srinath Mudir's daughter leave the doll at the *bakul* tree in the evening, and how long would Sendidi have to pick up the doll in the morning?

It sounds like an echo, as if someone is saying something! He doesn't make any firm decisions on any matter. Shashi seems to hear Kusum's father, Ananta, saying, "Come on, Ma Kusum, we'll sell everything here and live at my place," and Kusum replies, "What's the point, Baba? Leaving the village, leaving the house, will we just lie there at your place?" "I wasn't a farmer, little brother, farming doesn't suit me." – he says, and then he laughs a little, "Besides, most of the land is mortgaged to my father-in-law." Shashi says, "He has no sons, father-in-law, only three daughters – whatever he has will go to his sons-in-law. The land is only nominally in your name." "What's the point, little brother? Leaving the village, leaving the house, will we just lie at my father-in-law's house!" Only Sendidi and he won't be able to live together in this life. 'Look at your body.' – Shashi says this. Paran raises his voice, says, "We will sell all the land here and go to live with my father-in-law, according to his wishes." But it was heard that Sendidi would have a son. 'Why not?' Who knows what work Shashi had in Bajitpur, he suddenly went to Bajitpur leaving behind countless tasks in the village. He spends a day quietly at the house of senior lawyer Ramtaran, then goes to the government doctor's house. Shashi had recently become very close to the government doctor, and as a guest at his house, he now met the gentleman's frail wife, a family with a husband and two sons, and a particularly embarrassed wife. In times of mental distress, one finds amazing solace in the company of insignificant people in the family. This woman, who is incompetent, timid, and innocent, somehow bought Shashi in a very short time. The tea spills while pouring it, the cloth slips while catching the son, the hair scatters while picking up the cloth, and he even trips over the threshold while rushing outside. Shashi paled, he became completely sad and disheartened. He remained silent, head bowed, in speechless stillness. Why, what happened to Shashi, the renowned doctor of Gaudiya, the rising young leader? Sendidi loves him like a son, and there is no irrefutable proof that he doesn't have a son, why is Shashi disturbed if Sendidi gets her own son to love like a son today? Sushila's name. She introduced Shashi to Kulsheel, saying, "My uncle's house is in Teishgachha, six miles from our village, do you know my uncle?"

Harishchandra was employed. I went to my maternal uncle's place during my childhood – and this time I came here once. My father was a Munshif, so I roamed around here and there. "Be careful, Shashi, call the doctor Gopal," he said humbly, like a supplicant. Perhaps it wasn't right to call Gopal. Seeing Shashi's pale, sorrowful face, perhaps Gopal's heart wanted to beat faster, and that sound reach Shashi's ears. And Gopal had no son, only Shashi. He couldn't refuse. Still, he somehow managed everything with clapping. Therefore, without hesitation, within that visible hour, he revealed his true self to the people, perhaps even his wife liked it, and Shashi did too. The next morning, Shashi came to the river ghat to return to the village. He would have to hire a boat. At the ghat, Shashi met Kusum's father, Anant. Shashi said, "I came for some work. I'll take a boat back to the village." Gopal asked fearfully, "Oh Shashi, are you not unwell?" "No. It's been six months since I came here, I might change jobs." Anant said, "Doctor Babu is here?" "Now he's with the Karta." Shashi said, "No." Standing there, he said, "I can't stay anymore, Babu!" "No is good. Be careful for a while." Anant said, "Did my daughter write to you, Doctor Babu, that she went to stay with me on your advice? It's surprising that my crazy daughter listened to your advice. What are you saying, from today? Since my son-in-law died in that boat accident, I've been scolding my daughter-in-law, what work does the Babu have to stay here so hard, come and stay with me. I didn't think of my son-in-law's opinion, Doctor Babu, he's a water man, if my daughter agrees, he would agree too. My daughter was stubborn. She said, there's mother-in-law, there's sister-in-law, why would they want to go to my father's house? It's a good thing, I stayed quiet until my sister-in-law got married. Then there was only one mother-in-law, she's not against it either – now it's time to come? Not even that, with ten oars, my daughter dug her heels in here. Always in need, who knows with what joy.

In this world, people want one thing or another; I've been seeing this, Doctor, for ages. We're not dolls, sitting behind a screen playing games. 'Alright, so, were you happy in Kusumgaon all this time? Ananta, the wealthy household's son, with his coat of muscles and the waistcloth tied around his waist, announces it! Kusum could have lived happily with her father. But now Kusum has made up her mind. It wouldn't have been a great loss if she had told Shashi about this decision. It was at his suggestion that she changed her mind; what was the point of Kusum writing to her father? Ananta said, 'Didn't you bring your boat? I'm also going to Kusumgaon, Doctor; why not go in my boat? Just sit in the boat for a bit, buy a set of sarees from the market, and bring them for the girl.' – 'Hey, Hanif, bring the boat over here, the Doctor will board.' In a short while, Ananta returned with a set of sarees for Kusum. Boarding the boat, Shashi, with a bit of difficulty, sat down, stretching his limbs, and said, 'The girl has written to the Doctor to come. She has written that he should bring a big boat and take everyone back from here for two days. What more can I say about the favor you have done me, Doctor?' Ananta, loosening the waistcloth and the coat and sitting comfortably, said, 'The last time in Shravan month, when I came to take you, I had agreed to go with you as far as Bajitpur.' Shashi smiled slightly and said, 'I would have taken him once I got him in my hands.' Ananta said, 'If you want, you will get him, Bhai; he is a devotee, a slave to his devotees.' Shashi, surprised, said, 'What favor have I done you again?' 'He is the elder son's brother-in-law.' Shashi said. 'So, Kusum will really leave Kusumgaon forever? What was the need to rush so much? Shashi will also leave, to a place much farther than Kusum's, among strangers. Couldn't Kusum have stayed in the village until Shashi's departure? Perhaps Kusum wants to leave quickly, saying that Paran's body has broken down; there, Paran will rest, he won't be anxious about food, he won't run around in the fields at five in the morning with a broken body. Kusum is doing things very wisely. Still, couldn't she have told Shashi once?'

One day, to hear about Moti and Kumud's situation, Kusum took Shashi to the Talboney in the early morning. Even with such a significant opportunity, couldn't Kusum have repeated his performance? Wouldn't he have come to Shashi's room at an inappropriate time just to say something? Did he expect Gopal to be sitting up and waiting for him? Kusum was angry, or perhaps in the afternoon he met the Magistrate. Shital Babu showed him the Satganj school, Gaudiya's hospital, and spoke to Shashi for a long time about the hospital. He listened carefully to the history of Jadav's death. He showed immense curiosity about this. Did Shashi himself show him everything? Couldn't he explain the matter himself a little? Shashi wasn't feeling well that day, and besides, there was no way to explain Jadav and the madman's deaths. It would remain in his mind forever. Then, after offering him a cup of tea, the Magistrate promised a donation of one hundred rupees to the hospital fund and bid Shashi farewell. From there, he went to Shital Babu's house. Shital Babu scolded Shashi for disappearing without a word, then he also offered him a cup of tea and sent him on his way. It was evening then. Shital Babu asked him to provide light, but Shashi refused, saying he had a torch in his pocket. As soon as he entered the house, Gopal said, "Where have you been, Shashi? The Magistrate has been camping in the village since the day before yesterday, his peons have come ten times to call you, Shital Babu has sent people twice. Where have you been? You didn't even say when you would return. Anyway, hurry up, go and meet the Sahib. Wear good clothes." "Khasi! Haven't you eaten since yesterday?" Gopal became busy, "Quickly take a bath, O Kund, where have you all been? You haven't eaten since morning, Shashi, I'll get rid of all the servants this time." "While crossing the river, while talking to Ananta in the boat, he asked in a very awkward way, 'Are you going to sell everything? The house, the land?' Shashi said, 'I've come home so late, I won't eat or sleep, I'm going to meet the Sahib.' Whatever he said didn't make sense." Ananta said, "If you go and stay with me, what will you do with the house here? There's no hurry, slowly I'll sell everything."

"Someone will buy it if you know," Gopal said, his enthusiasm dampened. "You just snap at me, Shashi." Shashi said, "Why snap? I haven't eaten anything since morning, am I not human and hungry?" "I'll tell you if I know," he said. He didn't even switch on his torch once; he started walking in the dark. He went to his room in the hospital and sat down. Perhaps the compounder, with his twenty-rupee salary at the hospital, wasn't expecting Shashi's arrival at this hour, wondering where he had disappeared to. He returned almost two hours later. But Shashi didn't say anything to him. There were six beds in the hospital, only two of which were occupied by patients. After advising the compounder about them, Shashi returned home. What a strange state of mind! Basudeb Baruj's house was dark, with that huge jam tree in front, whose broken branch had killed a boy. How closely related is death!

Shashi still couldn't forget that boy. Was there a mistake in the treatment? Had there been some internal injury he couldn't detect? There was no point in thinking about it now. Still, Shashi thinks. So many things about the village are etched in Shashi's mind. That's why he thinks. When he leaves the village and goes far away, will the countless impressions of village life be erased from his mind? Is his mind only occupied with seeing these fragmented pictures and judging these events? Shashi stopped by Srinath's shop. "What's the news, Srinath? The girl's fever?" "Take her to the hospital tomorrow, give her medicine." While walking, Shashi thinks that everyone comes to him with their ailments, asking for medicine. The tied-up bakul tree is full of fallen flowers: why so many flowers? A religious tree tied in front of the house. Doesn't Sendini clean it anymore? Before entering the house, Shashi sees the window of the big room lit up. Perhaps Kusum has lit his big hanging lamp, thinking his father has arrived. How does Shashi's mind feel? Perhaps the day after tomorrow, or maybe a day after that, Kusum will leave the village and never return. Shashi never had the habit of dwelling on things. He always tries to control his sudden impulses.

But sometimes, an extraordinary, intense, sudden desire awakens in people, a desire so powerful that no one can suppress it. Waking up that morning, he seemed to think of nothing, to consider nothing. He simply went straight to Paran's house and stood before the kitchen door, asking, "Will you come to the Talbun once, sister-in-law?" Shashi sat under that decaying Tal tree in the Talbun, the very spot where Kusum had sat and confided in him that morning. A little while later, as Kusum was idly playing with the bunch of keys tied to her waist, she arrived, the keys tinkling softly. Why was Kusum so joyful today, when she would be leaving forever tomorrow? Was there a hint of sadness in her face, a sign of hidden tears in her eyes? Shashi couldn't speak. He simply looked at Kusum, his face downcast. Shashi felt a burning sensation. How strange, that he couldn't understand Kusum, that he had indulged her whims for seven years with gentle, affectionate neglect. Shashi felt an inexplicable pain. What had once been merely the outer wall of his life, suddenly a secret door had been discovered within it, revealing a vast expanse, so much possibility, so much wonder. Why were his eyes welling up? He didn't know. He had always joked, so he assumed she had called him to joke. He sat down. He sat and listened to find out why she had called. "What will you talk about, little brother? I can't imagine whether you'll laugh or cry," she said. For the first time in her life, she had come to tell him something important, and that too in the Talbun! "I'm coming," he replied. Kusum still didn't emphasize the seriousness. She said, "How will you understand? You can't understand everything a woman goes through. Just call a doctor if something's wrong! This isn't a fever or anything." Shashi said a little angrily, "I can't understand what's happened to you, sister-in-law." Shashi said, "How could you say that, sister-in-law, that I've always joked with you?" Kusum laughed and said, "Doesn't your heart break seeing me laugh? So I'm just trying to make you feel better." "Not joking? Then is it a prank? I ask again, why laugh?" Kusum was surprised. "Why laugh? In the Talbun? Why, in the Talbun, and why this morning?" "Laugh?" Kusum asked. Shashi said, "I didn't call you here to the Talbun to joke, sister-in-law." "Come. I have a lot to tell you."

It might be like this, perhaps their last meeting; in this life, they might never come this close again. And today, didn't Kusum cry a little, didn't she express an emotion in a deep, sorrowful tone? Shashi's eyes eagerly searched for the expression of pain on Kusum's face, straining to hear the faintest sob. Who knew that the countless signals, the numerous pleas woven into Kusum's daily words and actions were so precious to Shashi, so cherished in Kusum's chaotic, endless longing for life? It would continue forever, and today, in this grove, sitting so close, playing the game, Kusum would only play the key – what injustice to Kusum, what creations-born madness. With such a wondrous expression of anger, Kusum pushed the stray hairs from both sides of her face back with her hands and looked at Shashi in such a heavy downpour that it seemed as if Kusum would slap Shashi right now. Kusum wasn't like that! When had Shashi ever insulted her, when had she ever respected her pride, when had she ever said something that didn't make her skin burn with anger? She had never been angry, she had never looked at her with scorn. Today, at this slight insult, she flared up like a tigress, but she didn't say anything harsh, she composed herself. Seeing Shashi completely subdued by the expression of her anger, who knows with what amazing skill, Kusum also brought back the eternal mysterious tone of her voice. She said, "Father, how many times can I go and come back, once to show him a broken hand by lying, a hundred times, with storms, rain, and earthquakes on my head?" Why should I go to tell him? Kusum said, "I stopped him myself." Shashi said, "I heard you all are leaving the village, that's why I came to call you alone." Shashi said, "Couldn't you have sent a message through Paran?"

"Didn't you tell me anything?" Kusum said effortlessly, "I'm leaving the day after tomorrow."

"When will you tell me? Are you even coming?" Kusum asked, "Why did you call me here to talk and then just sit there quietly, little brother?"

"I couldn't come because of work, so I'm completely upset, you know?" There was no doubt that Shashi, who usually hugged Kusum tightly like a clingfish without a word if Kusum shed tears for a few more moments, would have hugged her, but Kusum's indifference held him back. He couldn't forget that Kusum no longer responded to all his pleading like she used to. Shashi's face looked a little pained. What could he say to Kusum, what could he do! Who knew that in just two days' notice, Kusum would put him in such danger, would turn his carefully planned time upside down? While sitting with Kusum, the thought that he would be leaving forever in two days would overwhelm him with waves of sorrow, constantly rising and falling, making him restless. Shashi had no idea. Until yesterday, hearing the news had brought various strange thoughts to Shashi's mind, but this morning, it all seemed to have turned into just a bitter annoyance. Shashi couldn't embrace Kusum's entire body, which seemed otherworldly beautiful today, so suddenly he reached out and grabbed her hand. Kusum was a little surprised. There was a distance between them, and perhaps because of the tension in that distance, Kusum moved a little closer, but what she said was extraordinary, unexpected. "You crazy man, even after playing for ten years, you haven't learned? We poor girls don't understand the meaning of this game, we die in pain."

By now, tears had welled up in Kusum's eyes. Kusum had never admitted her emotions so clearly in her tears to Shashi. But she is a strong girl, taking two deep breaths, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and brought her emotions under control. "How many times have I come and gone? Is it appropriate to call me here and hold hands today, little brother? Can I get angry? I have a big, bad temper."

Hearing this, Shashi's half-pained face first went completely blank. Who knew Kusum could be so afraid? Still, he didn't let go of Kusum's hand. He said, "Get angry, get angry at what I say. Will you come with me, you know?"

There was no protest to this, and Shashi's face fell. Taking his foot out of his shoe, he sat there silently, his head bowed, his feet wet with dew from the grass. Kusum immediately replied, "No." Shashi said anxiously, "Why? Why not?" "Wherever you go," Kusum replied. "Wherever you go, I'll go with you tonight." Shashi, like a fool, like a child, said, "Why will you go? What do you mean, why go, Kusum?" Kusum simply said, "Why go? Where to?" He said, "I didn't think so, little brother. Then I would have left the village long ago." Letting go of his hand, Shashi said, "I didn't know your anger was so terrible, my dear. You say so many big things, why can't you understand one small thing? Can a person always understand their own mind, my dear? It could be that I have been neglecting you for so long, and today I am angry and seeking revenge. Don't you understand? I didn't realize how much I had hurt you, how much you had missed me? It's only now, hearing that you are leaving, that I have realized it. Besides, believe me, people change – well, I have been playing with you all these days, but today I can change, my dear, can't I?" "How anxious, how eager and pleading, Shashi's words were pathetic. Who knew that one day Kusum would have to say this to him? Kusum's body was not well, that was clear from his face, perhaps Kusum thought that was why. He said in a soft voice, "What are you saying, little brother? Will you cry for me?" "Today Kusum has spoken his mind!" – Shashi, with his head nodding like a little girl, his eyes blazing, observed Kusum's overwhelmed expression and said, "How can you just say you're leaving? Did you think that whenever it suited you, you would call, and I would immediately pack up and go with you? Does anyone go like that?" Shashi said angrily, "Forget all that politeness now. I have no patience for such nonsense. It doesn't matter what happens to me. Just explain clearly to me, why are you suddenly being so hostile, after being so crazy about leaving me forever?" Kusum said in a subdued voice, "What can I say to you, little brother, you understand so much!" "Even red-hot iron cools down slowly, doesn't it?" "I have no joy or sorrow, I don't want any happiness for myself."

I plan to spend the rest of my life cooking rice and serving the family – that's all I have left to hope for." "Kusum admitted, "That's how it used to be, Chhotobabu. If you called clearly from a distance, I'd rush over. Will it always be like this?" "Are people made of iron that they'll always remain the same, never change?" "When I start talking, I speak my mind. Today, even if you drag me by the hand, I won't go." "Kusum said anxiously, "Does that ever happen?" "How insignificant I am to you, you'll never be happy in your life for my sake." "You won't even remember me in two days." "Shashi said, "You've been clinging to me for so long, and you think I'll forget you in two days?" "Shashi said simply, "My heart will be terrified, Boudi. I'll never be happy if that happens in my life." "There's no point in quarreling, Chhotobabu. Is it good to quarrel before leaving?" "Finally, Kusum said, "What power do I have to bind you, Chhotobabu?" "There will be no quarrel, tell me." "Shashi said impatiently, "But one day, I have to leave." "Not just one or two days, Kusum had gone mad for him for many long years, and gradually that frenzied love has died. Maybe it's even died! Who can say? Today, no matter how terrible this incident seems to Shashi, this outcome is natural. Kusum, the village girl, the housewife, how relentlessly her desires rose, day after day, offering herself to Shashi like an offering. Now Shashi understands that Kusum's incredible, terrifyingly selfless love, which has remained so fresh for so long, is therefore incredibly surprising. The love that arose spontaneously has now naturally returned to its normal course. How will Kusum spend her days now without Shashi? How will she live her life without Shashi? Returning home, Shashi understands that there are so many layers of imagination that people are not capable of reaching without a specific reason. Each event is like a key that opens a door to the mind, a door that people didn't even know existed. So many of Shashi's great imaginations, so many vast and expansive desires, all became unnecessary in one day, just as the big desires of a child are lost in youth. How much Shashi had cried in his childhood to ride in the rubber-wheeled, iron cart pulled by a horse, and now the desire to drive a motor car in Kolkata has reached that stage.

Where will Shashi go, leaving the village? What is there outside the village that can captivate Shashi? A vast world, countless strangers. What will Shashi find there? Kusum has left. That lively, mysterious, half-girl, half-woman, full of life force, indomitable Kusum. The reason Shashi didn't say anything more is incomprehensible. Perhaps to have time to think. Kusum is here today and tomorrow. One needs to think first about whether there is anything to say. Shashi is not surprised by Kusum's change. If there is a fire in the house, one must put out the fire – of the outside, and of the mind as well. Why should Kusum's fire burn forever? Her own restlessness surprises Shashi. It seems to Shashi that there is nothing left to do, that she will never be able to love Kusum, no matter how impossible she makes the impossible possible in life, and Shashi is in pain. It has burst and fallen, Kusum has left, – right before her eyes, on the edge of her absent-minded mind. What games did she play that made all those games seem present? Shashi went to the hospital, felt the pulse, listened to the heartbeat, and prescribed medicine – and even extracted a boil. She had to visit patients in the surrounding villages as well. How long has Shashi been doing these duties? Can't the work be done in one day? Who forbade her from thinking about Kusum in her mind? Why is Shashi so angry, why threaten a dying patient? What remorse Shashi feels today, what self-reproach no one can understand. If you try to catch it, it's good that it has escaped in one direction, Shashi? No, there is no desire. Everything has become futile, little brother. I used to hear about broken hearts from people, and now I understand what it means. Who is little brother calling, who will go with you? Is Kusum alive? She is dead. 'After standing silently for a few minutes, while starting to walk towards the house, Kusum only said, 'You are like a god, little brother.' The daughter-in-law of the house has remained purely and purely in the house, protected by morality and dharma. It should have been a little better this way, truly.

Shashi had many old, well-worn copies of these reforms. Yet, he never realized that today, in a different way, he was about to tell Kusum the very things he had intended to explain to her with much fanfare. Kusum, listening calmly and thoughtfully, considering everything, would now be able to follow the self-restraint he had asked her to practice without even understanding it. Shashi is still trying to keep Kusum in the village; it's as if he doesn't recognize this Shashi. Where did he find such humility, where did he learn such meekness? He knows Kusum won't stay, and if she does, he won't love her. Yet, eagerly, Shashi waits for an answer. Is there proof that a person doesn't live for love? Even in the winter rains, doesn't the wind still call out to the dead river? Perhaps Kusum doesn't understand herself; after lying in the Talbane yesterday, she came to this house this morning. She has come to say goodbye to the girls. If it were anyone else, Shashi might have thought it was a pretext to see him. But Shashi didn't think that. Shashi always judges his own convenient thoughts with terrible suspicion.

Still, what did he do? Instead of standing outside, he went to his room, completely disregarding what everyone would think, and called out, "Kusum, my dear, listen for a moment." Kusum can express her heart's thoughts quite skillfully, having learned Shashi's ways over the long days. Shashi paled. He said fearfully, "No, dear, never ask me that! There's no need to pretend. If I had wanted you to stay, I wouldn't have even mentioned it. If your heart is so troubled, go to your father's house." He had told her from the very beginning to do things thoughtfully, considering everything. Kusum said fearfully, "What else can I do, Shashi? It will cause you pain, and it will cause me pain. How much more suffering can I endure at this age? I might just hang myself." Shashi's love and entertainment today are much clearer than yesterday. If Shashi remembers Kusum as he says he will, then does he truly love her deeply? Shashi said, "Won't I keep you? I will never forget your faults and virtues, good and bad, even the smallest detail about you, my dear." Kusum came into the room and said, "I came to say goodbye, Shashi." Will he remember all the wrongs she has done? Kusum said, "If you didn't, I would have hanged myself long ago, Shashi. Shall I go now?"

"Gone or not?" asked Shashi. Kusum, with tears welling in her eyes, replied, "Why do you say such things to make me feel heavy-hearted, little brother?" Shashi said, "I speak plainly, sister-in-law, without beating around the bush. I don't know how to do it otherwise." Shashi couldn't find any reason to ask for permission that day. "He created a problem at the time of leaving," Kusum said. Becoming a first child at an advanced age might be considered a stroke of unexpected luck, but it's also dangerous. Gopal probably had this apprehension; he hadn't been anywhere outside the village for even a day or two for some time, always seeking news. He was always visiting Yamini Kobi's drawing-room – Yamini never went to stay with Bachiya towards the end. Sendidida's grandfather, Kripanath Kobi, had taken a great liking to Gopal. The man had studied medicine well but didn't know how to apply it, nor did he have any experience with animals. Who knows if he recites Gopal's hymns in between reciting verses from Charak and Sushruta; Gopal treats him with special kindness. Otherwise, his good fortune of living with the family in Yamini Kobi's house wouldn't have lasted so long. Gopal would tell Sendidida to hurry them up; Sendidida would tell them to come now. Gopal had gone to Bajitpur today for a hearing on a serious case. If there was work in court, Gopal wouldn't return to the village that day; he returned today. It was almost ten at night. Not only the thought of leaving the village, but many other thoughts had made Shashi's face fall, but she couldn't find any reason to stay in the village. There has been considerable order in the hospital work; he can now take leave by appointing a doctor. If he announced his departure, there would be a great commotion inside and outside the house, and he would be exhausted from giving explanations and listening to advice and admonishments. This cannot be avoided. She is not Kusum, who, if she feels like packing and leaving one day, would only be busy with one person in the entire village. "Counsel?" It's not wrong to offer counsel in times of distress; Gopal quickly finished his meal and got up. Despite trying to remain calm, Gopal couldn't suppress his restlessness. The women of the house make faces. Shashi eats silently with her head bowed. After all this, Kusum went home. This is Kusum's nature.

He always had a particular inclination towards dramatizing life. The fear of failure seemed to paralyze Shashi. Not only was his mind not well, but his body was also unwell, lacking enthusiasm and vitality.

Upon hearing this, Shashi was reminded of Sendi's spring illness. Years ago, a germ from a patient in Satgarh had traveled two miles across fields and houses to reach Sendi. Yamini's assistant was the patient's doctor in Satgarh. That day, Gopal prevented him from going to the other house to treat Sendi. He had saved Sendi through arguments, insults, and rebuke – with sheer force of personality. Today, Sendi is dying again, for another reason. Today, there is no restriction on treating her; Gopal himself has sent for him. Why has he sent for him? Who gave Gopal the right to call him like this, as his son? Does Shashi accept Sendi dying or living? So many of his patients have died in his own hands – Sendi is not even his patient anymore. And even if he forgets everything, even if he only remembers that he is a doctor and a dying patient's relative has called him, he still has the right to refuse. His body is weak and unwell; he has become exhausted and weary from lying in bed all day. Now that the call has come, he can send a reply. Doesn't he need rest? It takes him a moment to recover from his daze. He recites a Sanskrit verse, exaggerating the danger, and his eyes well up. Whether Sendi will live or die if he goes or not, only God knows, but as long as there is breath, there is hope, so please go, Shashi Babu.

Kunda stammered. Then, crying, he said, "You get angry when I say I want two meals. What have I done to you? Rather than that, send me away, Shashi Dada, I will go anywhere."

Kunda came and asked, "Will you sleep now, Shashi Dada? Shall I put up the mosquito net?" Shashi said, "Please don't say that to me." Shashi said, "Give it." Shashi said, "You go, sir, I have fallen asleep." Gopal said, "That's not wise. Why didn't you send someone to get a doctor from Bajitpur while you were in the village? They know more than you. They didn't even think that you wouldn't go if called, Shashi."

"Kripanath is now crying in my arms, Father. He is afraid to come to you because you insulted and drove him away," Gopal said. "No, no, I didn't insult Shashi. If I said something without understanding, Gopal doesn't finish talking. Then they both remain silent. Gopal, with a stifled sob, looks at Shashi with tearful eyes, loosens the knot of his turban, and opens his chest, but before he can put his hand to his mouth to eat, he chews on the emptiness of his mouth like betel leaves, perhaps out of habit, perhaps out of mental agitation. Gopal looks very strange and miserable. The drowsiness of his sick body has now turned into sleep; he opened the door to answer, waking Gopal. Shashi got up and opened the door. Gopal had a light in his hand, which he put down on the floor and sat on the bed. Gopal is silent, sorrowful, serious; it seems like he won't say anything, he will sit like that in front of his son's room in the middle of the night in a posture of silent pleading. Kundar's tears don't stop easily! He cries and says, 'When did I ever say anything wrong, when did I offend you? I just asked if you would come to see him once because I saved him by treating him, and that became a fault?' Shashi couldn't imagine that Gopal himself would come to request him. What value does the life of so many saindids have for Gopal? Why did he stop him from treating him that one day? Gopal said, 'Are you sleeping? You will get it, the night is short! Your body is not well either. A man is dying, that's why I called you, Shashi, otherwise I wouldn't have.' Shashi said more softly, 'My body is not well, Kund, my body, hands, and feet are aching, I can't cry. Finish the work in your hand quickly, I will lie down.' Shashi remained silent. Gopal said eagerly, 'Won't you go just once? Shashi, won't you go just to ease his suffering, he is dying.' Shashi said, 'Why didn't you bring a doctor from Bajitpur? If you had sent someone in the afternoon, he would have arrived by now!' Shashi said softly, 'You speak nonsense, that's why I get angry.' Shashi was in terrible pain, he said in a soft voice, 'I also have honor and shame, Father.' Around twelve o'clock at night, Gopal pushed Shashi's door and called softly, 'Shashi? Are you sleeping, Shashi?' Shashi finally said irritably, 'I am sleeping.'

Shashi had shown a few known and familiar people dying, just as he had shown a few being born in their homes. It's the way of the world, a few die while a few are born. Yet, these deaths, Shashi, accustomed to dying, greatly disturbed the doctor. Those who died were known to him, with long-standing relationships of affection and animosity. Those who survived were strangers. Shashi thought about this; what if Sendi had lived if he had tried differently, if he had given different medicine? The deep sorrow and shame weighed heavily on Shashi's mind as he remembered how busily he had administered the entire two injections in the end. Still, he was surprised. When Basanta arrived and saw Sendi's unchanged face, Gopal felt a profound, inexplicable affection. Didn't seeing Sendi dying fill Shashi with disgust? It was all in his hands, saving the lives of these two. What could Shashi not do? Not only Sendi, but even the symbol of Sendi's new life, he could erase from the earth forever. No one would even ask why it happened. Has Shashi only learned to save lives, not to kill? So easily, even in a distracted state, he could make a mistake. Would Shashi have to regret this much for the rest of his life? So, when it happened, Shashi tried to save Sendi with great fanfare. At midnight, he brought another disaster to this troubled house, ordering and threatening, making everyone frantic. Much water was heated, people were sent to bring medicine, equipment, and the compounder from the hospital. Who would say that just a while ago, the indifferent Shashi was preparing to let Sendi die? Again, Shashi's stubbornness has returned, with the force that once saved Sendi. That day, he fought with external obstacles; today, is Shashi fighting with the obstacles within? In the last night, a son was born to Sendi; in the morning, Sendi died. Sendi had so little vitality, her heart had become so weak, that Shashi, after examining her, did not believe it. He never imagined that Sendi's original engine had become like this. Still, Shashi could not imagine that this journey would not be saved.

The doctor, he too, couldn't quite understand it properly.

When Sendidi, having regained consciousness, should have been starting to sleep peacefully, suddenly her hands and feet turned cold. Gopal sat up abruptly. He lost the ability to express himself. The pain Shashi had inflicted on him today was beyond comparison. If Shashi had gone to see Sendidi when Kripanath came to the doctor, Gopal would have been unable to bear the shame.

Shashi knows that even in this modern age, such things still happen within the human body, things beyond the comprehension of intellect. It's not something man-made. Yet, the bloodshot look in Shashi's sleepless eyes seemed to intensify, and an unbearable depression set in. There was nothing left to do. He went home, took a bath, drank a strong cup of tea, and then went to bed. He had also seen Gopal outside when he came in. Then Shashi said, "Go, go to sleep. You go. I'm going to wear the new sari." Gopal was completely stunned. Such a change had come over Gopal that everyone noticed it, and Shashi felt ashamed. Gopal, who was always indulgent in food and pleasures, now had no interest in his meals; he was irritable, but couldn't utter a harsh word. With a serious, melancholic face, he sat in the veranda, smoking and shuffling through unnecessary documents, which were once as dear to Gopal as novels and plays. Perhaps Gopal couldn't sit still, yet he tried to pass the time by immersing himself in these familiar tasks. Shashi was surprised. All this seemed completely out of character to her. Among all the unexpected things that had happened in Shashi's life, this bizarre aspect of Gopal's character seemed the most astonishing. Shashi now silently got up and left. She felt both anger and affection. A middle-aged, worldly man, what childish behavior! Kunda asked, "What happened to your uncle, Shashida?" He asked in a slightly affectionate tone. Kunda's daughter had had a serious illness. With much effort, Shashi had cured her. Kunda had been given a room in the main house and some responsibilities in managing the household. The shy Kunda had completely changed. How few desires a woman has, and how quickly the nature becomes harsh and irritable when those desires are unfulfilled!

Shashi also feels that way nowadays; no, Kunda's nature isn't that bad, she's actually a fairly good girl. Was it too much for the patient? Even if it was, what's her fault? After much consideration, she gave the two injections; there was nothing else she could do at the time. Should she be held accountable for all the lives she's saved so far? Saying this, Gopal waited for a while, eagerly anticipating Shashi's comment. Who knows what truth he wants to uncover – Shashi is completely stunned. Perhaps Gopal has already learned about the beginning of her treatment. What is he thinking? What thoughts about the doctor-son relationship have crossed his mind? Shashi's face turns red. He can't bring himself to speak. Gopal rarely talks to Shashi. It's as if their two worlds have become completely separate over time. One day, Gopal suddenly asked, 'How did your sister-in-law die, Shashi?' 'Kripanath said that if she had been given two or three mriganabhi on time' – 'I caught it early.' 'You couldn't understand it early?' Shashi suddenly became angry at this question. She said, 'Even if you can detect a disease early, people can still die.' Gopal said, 'It might have been if you hadn't given the two injections earlier' – 'Her heart was bad.' 'But she died anyway.' Kunda says, "You won't get married, you were very sad with me yesterday." Shashi says, 'Dad was sad, or were you sad with Dad?' In response to Kunda's question, she says, 'I don't know, Kunda.' Kunda laughs a little and says, 'We were both doing it.' Due to the pressure of her work, she doesn't have much time to pay attention anymore; Shashi is even happier with the care Kunda takes with Sindhu. Kunda is surprised and says, 'Why are you suddenly crying, Dada?' Shashi looks at Kunda in surprise. Where did Kunda learn such a familiar way of speaking? Suddenly, Shashi feels that Kunda is very happy, her life is full of joy. A little thoughtful, a little envious, and also quite strong in her desire for saris and jewelry, her husband has mixed with Gopal's astrologers, yet Kunda is so happy that she deliberately creates and enjoys a couple of artificial sorrows, hence her accusations of lack.

Kunda's existence had been as meaningless as an inanimate object to Shashi for so long. Today, seeing such a gathering of joy in his otherwise meaningless life, he was somewhat moved. What had Kusum done to Shashi? Shashi seemed to be searching for something in everyone's eyes and faces that met him. Seeing the smile on his face and the joy in his eyes, Shashi's heart was filled with contentment! Seeing him standing before Shashi with tired and sorrowful eyes, Shashi felt like hitting him. Suddenly, Kunda felt very fond of Shashi. He said, "Tell me what you want, Kunda. Should I get you a nice piece of cloth? A Benarasi?" Shashi said in a serious tone, "Give it to him, give it to Kunda, for free." The seven days of Brahmacharya passed. Gopal did not leave his side for even a moment during these seven days. So many questions from Gopal, so many anxious pleas. Due to Gopal's negligence, a case in the Bajitpur court was lost. But that's okay, he had developed detachment, and those lawsuits and legal matters were now trivial to him. Not only for Sendidi, but for some time now, Gopal had been thinking about why he was collecting so much wealth with so much effort. He had a daughter, Sindhu, who would move to her husband's house after two days, and then who would be left for Gopal? Shashi? He had no hope in Shashi. What expectation could a father have from a son who hated him? Gopal's heart had been broken when he tried to hold on. Shashi bought Kunda a piece of cloth for free. Meanwhile, Gopal's guru arrived. He was known as Bhola Brahmachari. He had a well-nourished, hairy body, and his head, beard, and eyebrows were well-groomed. He held a small, black stick in his hand. He wore a saffron robe and saffron-colored rubber-soled canvas shoes. Gopal had almost forgotten him for five years, but he suddenly remembered him so vividly that it was as if he could have made God appear if he had wanted to. He respectfully prostrated himself and washed his feet. A room in the inner part of the house had already been swept, cleaned, and made ready for Bhola Brahmachari to stay. Shashi respected the Brahmachari, and although he was not particularly happy at his sudden arrival, he greeted him with respect. The Brahmachari spoke many profound words, and Shashi responded with equally profound answers, respectfully.

He realizes internally that Shashi has surpassed him in knowledge far beyond what the Guru could have taught, but he doesn't reveal it. He likes Shashi very much. Forgetting all the accusations he had made against the boy, he sets aside years of accumulated, rigid advice and talks to Shashi on various subjects. Gradually, it seems that the guru-shishya relationship that was established between them many years ago is now dissolved; it's not about religion anymore, not about questions and answers regarding past and present sins and virtues; now, sitting face to face, they are simply having conversations, like two friends of different ages. Staying with Shashi for two days, the mask that the fraudulent Brahmin had worn seems to slip away, revealing the real person inside, allowing the disciple to become acquainted with him. He is a genuine Sadashiva man, much like a Yadava, who happened to become a Brahmin, not through spiritual practice, but through circumstance – and it has become a habit. Gradually, he tells Shashi stories of two or three events and possibilities in his life. The stories of his early youth, his first life as a sannyasi, wandering from country to country in search of what he couldn't find at home. Such stories of leaving in search of the unknown always make Shashi restless. It's been many days since Shashi himself has felt the urge to wander. The Brahmin says this in such a straightforward, unadorned manner that the words carry great weight. Shashi, hurt, says, "It is the son's first duty towards his father, you know. It is a natural religion of the son's heart, not something to be reasoned about. If the father's nature is bad, the son might criticize him when he grows up, but no matter what the father is like, the son's blind devotion in his heart can never be eradicated." It is quite surprising that Shashi has shattered Gopal's heart like a flower. With such a broken heart, Kusum has left, unable to reconcile the irreconcilable. Gopal has not given up yet. He expresses his inner pain to the Brahmin and then leaves. The Brahmin calls Shashi. Shashi is no less than the Guru; he considers the Guru as his own. Seven or eight years ago, Gopal had initiated him to the fraudulent Brahmin, and Shashi had chanted the Guru's mantra with a 'namo' for some time. Since then, how much has changed! After spending seven days with Shashi, Gopal feels as if he has shaken off a burden.

He had a kind of rough playfulness with himself, because dealing with duties and his behavior towards Shashi had become easy and natural. At Gopal's request, while trying to draw Shashi's mind towards home, his inclination to leave his room was awakened by the celibate. He said, "How are the patients in the hospital, Shashi?" "Father, Shashi, you are learned and intelligent, it is needless to tell you that duty is greater than affection." "What greater duty does a son have than to show devotion and respect to his father?" "Yes, sir." "Then, Nik Shashi, leave aside some of that, it's not the real thing for Gopal now. He just had a little chat with his son." Gopal has a kind of feminine, deceptive way of dealing with things that sometimes surprises and overwhelms Shashi. Shashi didn't tell the celibate the truth, a blind, fear-filled devotion to Gopal still remains undiminished within him - perhaps it will always be there. Who can break the knots that Gopal has tied in his mind for so many years? While walking through Kayetpada, Shashi hears the cries of a child from the house of Jamini Kobi Raj. A very young, tearful cry. It seems very much like a young child's voice to Shashi. Does Bipin have a small child? Even after walking a long way, the sound of crying continues to ring in Shashi's ears for a long time. He doesn't like this sentimentality. Children cry sometimes, so what? What's the point of being so upset by it? He hears so many cries in his own home. His maternal uncle brought him. Wrapped in a quilt, held close to his chest. He doesn't let the children of the house get close to him, he doesn't let others... He left today, that's why my mother brought me. He will drink milk with Khuki. He doesn't even feed me at the end like he used to! Three months after Sendidi's death, one day in the evening, Shashi returned and saw Kund standing before him holding a crying child. He said, "This is Sendidi's son, Shashi Dada." Kund smiled on one side and, holding out Sendidi's quilt-wrapped son before Shashi, said, "You will get a gold necklace to make him a human being, Shashi Dada. My uncle's mind has become very valuable these days." Shashi's face, unwashed and unshaven, looked dry in the light of the sun, and becoming even more gaunt, he said, "Whose son did you say, Kund, Sendidi's?"

Gopal apologized, saying, "You will die if you go to the beggar's house. Why don't you consider it as a favor? You have the value of your labor, don't you? If I had hired someone, I would have had to pay them." Shashi replied, "Where will I get the hospital money, father? It's a small hospital. If I start considering my own debts, how will the hospital run?" Shashi retorted, "Why did you take on this burden? Such greed for jewelry!" Shashi said, "It's increasing by one or two." "Who will bring him?" Shashi remained silent throughout the afternoon. Now something had to be done, not just remain silent. And the warmth couldn't continue. In the silent afternoon, countless scattered thoughts began to arrange themselves in a surprising order in the mind of the bedridden Shashi, delicate affections falling like separate flowers. Shashi felt as if she was becoming a harsh person, like a delicate object drying up in the heat of a fire. How could Shashi's heart be so open to such a carefree, ruthless, indiscriminate boy? How could her heart be so eager? How could Gopal have wounded the pride of such a worthy son, and why did Shashi feel so amused by it today? How could Gopal have brought the Sendidur's son into the house where she lived, so carelessly? Did Gopal forget that Shashi had pleaded with Sendidur that she did not want to treat him? Was Shashi's offense so trivial to Gopal that he wouldn't even think about it? Didn't he need to be a little ashamed of himself? Even if Gopal had such an idea about the boy and brought the Sendidur's son home and started treating him with affection, Shashi would not accept it, no matter how much she remained silent. Who knows, perhaps Gopal wouldn't even accept it. Shashi might remain silent or get angry at the commotion, who would she tell? There was no doubt that the Sendidur's son had become handsome, remarkably handsome; it was as if the son had compensated for the Sendidur's withered youth with interest. Such a young boy, his complexion like raw gold. If Gopal was enchanted by seeing his face and brought this orphan into his heart and home, who could say anything about it? It was a noble, commendable act. It was not appropriate for Shashi to be so upset and angry about this.

Seeing the child as beautiful as a jasmine flower, Shashi was a little enchanted. Had the natural instinct of being enchanted been so destroyed in him by Kusum? With a serious, sad face, Shashi went to bathe. He brought Sendi's son close and sat down near the well, carefully feeding him until Shashi was satisfied. The little body had grown a little better, what hunger had he experienced today? Sendi's son had stopped crying. Kusum kissed him, with affection and pride. Who knows what mischief was in Kusum's mind then, he pushed the boy towards Shashi once more and said, "Look how beautiful the boy has become, Shashi-da, he should look like Sendi. Doesn't he enchant you just by looking at his face?"

When he is present in ordinary matters, he inspires enthusiasm in everyone, everyone feels secure relying on him. This is not without reason, how fortunate Shashi is, to receive such love from the public without even seeking it. This is not just the reward for good deeds. What good deed has Shashi done? He hasn't held a shovel for road repair, hasn't spread kerosene in ponds to prevent malaria, hasn't opened a night school, hasn't formed a village association or student union, hasn't done anything. Perhaps he has more influence than anyone else in at least ten surrounding villages! If everyone doesn't like Shashi, then why would this happen? There is no hesitation, no reluctance now. The arrangements for Shashi's inevitable departure are moving forward. He explains the hospital-related matters in detail to Shital Babu, submits a complete account of the funds, and also writes some instructions regarding future procedures. The next morning, Shashi sent urgent letters to the members of the hospital committee. In the evening at Shital Babu's house, an emergency meeting of the committee was held. Shashi submitted his resignation, submitted the draft advertisement for the doctor, and proposed that all the responsibilities of the hospital be handed over to the capable president of the committee, Shital Babu. Everyone was silent, some even let out sighs. Where will Shashi go, why will he go?

What will happen to the village doctor if he leaves? If we need a doctor on call, will we have to go to Bajitpur again? Everyone wants an explanation from Shashi, trying to argue with him. Shashi gives neither explanation nor argument. With a gentle smile, he dismisses the question, embracing the intimacy. Does Shashi love them? Have they loved Shashi? Shashi has sometimes felt deep disgust for the village and rural life; if he were to leave, how many years has his heart stayed here? Yet, a pain like a wound, a lasting sorrow, has entered Shashi; the thought of leaving the village stirs something in his heart. This is where Shashi was born, here he grew up. His life is intertwined with this village. Kusum was a foreigner; the day she left with a carefree heart, how could Shashi forget? Even at the time of his departure, tears will come to Shashi's eyes. Surely they will. Kundar has increased the work of carrying the weight of Sendidir's son, yet he increases his service to Shashi. As long as Shashi stays at home, Kande comes repeatedly with some pretext or other, looking at Shashi with teary eyes, wanting to say so much but not daring to. The pompous members of the committee asked, "Why, Shashi, why?" Kund cries, "Why, Shashida, why are you leaving us?" Shashi said, "I am leaving the village." He took Amulya to the hospital with him, placing a chair next to his own for him. Amulya is a little overweight, of a slow and calm nature, but not lacking in enthusiasm. He watched Shashi's work with close attention, looked around the hospital and compared it to his home, and asked about the rules and regulations. It seemed as if he already felt a deep sense of responsibility. After hearing that Shashi would leave and never return, a sense of entitlement to light his own light in the darkness of the entire novelty here was born within him. Amulya also made some criticisms. "This rule is not good, Shashi, this system instead of this system?" These small details and actions are proof that Amulya will do well, yet for no reason, irritation began to arise in his mind towards Shashi.

It's as if someone has come to usurp his kingdom – with so much care and effort Shashi has built this hospital, and people know it as Shashi Doctor's Hospital! Even the scalpel in the operating theatre is Shashi's property. Despite knowing he would leave the village, slowly he enlarged the hospital, and one day, in response to Shashi's letter, one of the applicants for the hospital job arrived in the village. His name was Amulya, and he had passed out in the same year as Shashi. Shashi didn't remember the name, but now he recognized him. Shashi liked Amulya after talking to him, and besides, who could send away a friend who came seeking such a small job? There was no need to choose people anymore, and a few days later, letters were written to those who had been given dates to come, canceling their appointments. Gopal was distraught. He was as good as dead. Living in his own house like a thief, he watched Shashi's movements with fearful, pitiful eyes, questioning others and searching for Shashi's whereabouts. He didn't even have the courage to speak to Shashi face to face! Who knew what his rebellious son would say or do? Where did Shashi want to go, what did he want to do? No one could give Gopal the right information. However, everyone assumed that this wasn't an ordinary trip for a couple of days or ten; it would be like Shashi's travels. Shashi gave Amulya a room in his own house and said, "Amulya, one day I will have to leave with you; you will recognize the patients and understand everything – from now on, everything will be your responsibility. Most of those who call you in the village are poor and destitute; learn to waive the fees. Those who can afford it will pay on their own; the villagers won't dare to cheat the doctor or the hospital." Why does Shashi's mind roam so restlessly, lacking affection? Why does it get so agitated and distressed? Kunda says, "Is it good to leave everyone behind and go, Shashi-da?" "Who says no one goes, Kunda? Do everyone stay in the country and the village?" "Those who go, go for business; what need do you have to go?" "What's wrong with you, Kunda? No, he won't be alone; Gopal will have a house full of relatives, and the whole village will be his well-wishers."

Even without Shashi, how will he manage alone? How will Gopal handle such a big responsibility now? Who else is there in this world to share Gopal's burden? His mother knows Gopal's heart. He can't love anyone in this world, not even his own daughter, Kata; only for Shashi, only for Shashi, a mad, affectionate longing still lingers in his chest.

Life's vast expanse of dreams, which he used to spend his days dreaming of, there's no point in him staying bound to this insignificant village and this small hospital. Seeing Amulya and hearing why he has come, Gopal became even more agitated. And he couldn't remain silent. At night, when Shashi sat down to eat, he quietly brought a chair and sat down next to Gopal. Auntie rushed to bring a glass of water and sat down nearby. Gopal said, "You can sit down whenever you're free, in the dining room." While thinking about leaving, Shashi had become so lost in thought that it was as if he had forgotten that no one had asked him to leave; he was leaving on his own accord. If he stopped now, no one would say anything to him. If he didn't go, he couldn't stay either. It was as if some force was pushing him to leave, and there was no way to stop it. He hadn't even imagined he would leave. In a couple of days, Amulya would be in charge here. There might be progress, or there might be decline; Shashi wouldn't be here to see. "England?" Gopal had put a mouthful of rice in his mouth, and it was as if he had choked. "England? Why England?" Gopal said anxiously, "That will take Shashi a long time. At least two or three years. Will I stay alone in the village all that time?" Gopal said, "Then you'll wander around the West a bit and come back home, right? It will take you a month or so, won't it?" When Auntie left, Gopal said, "Where will you go, Shashi?" Shashi said, surprised, "You'll be alone?" Shashi said, "First, I'll go to Kolkata for a while." "I'll study hard and come back," Shashi said. "I'll go to England from Kolkata." "That's childish talk, Shashi, that's talk of anger!" Saying this, Gopal kept looking at him with eager eyes. False hope. Shashi didn't protest or say anything. Gopal felt a burning sensation inside. What a strange, disturbed child, who can't control his mind? What has happened to Shashi? He doesn't even know what he wants.

Gopal, yielding much, will comply with his son's wish today. He won't look at his own unwillingness at all. The boy has become appropriate, has become disobedient; what else can Gopal do? He will have to silently endure everything! He says something like this to Shashi. A kind of strange pleading resonates in his words. Sensing that Gopal is speaking with immense anger, terrible fear, and deep sorrow hidden within, Shashi feels herself in great danger, yet she doesn't back down. No one remains to understand what has begun between father and son; everyone is gathered behind closed doors and windows in every room, listening intently, their throats parched, ready to drink in their words if they begin to speak loudly. An unusual silence pervades the house. It's impossible to tell when the storm will break. She requests to touch the child's body just a little to see if he has a fever. When he suddenly gets up in response, the meaning of that action also strikes Gopal. Gopal, in a fit of shame at Kunda's astonished gaze, pricks him with a needle. In his usual voice, he roars at Kunda, "Get away, get away from in front of me, you whore's son." Kunda cannot bear such unjust roaring; first, he becomes bewildered, then he goes to his room crying. Immediately, the curious girls of the house go and stand there to watch. For some time now, everyone has been enjoying the spectacle in this house. Even the bold Kunda is recently surprised. The storm erupts in a completely different direction. Suddenly, Kunda comes and stands there, holding Shendidi's son in his arms. He said, "Shashida, you should eat and see, his body feels very hot." Shashi doesn't look up, doesn't speak. Gopal reaches out and says in a worried voice, "Does he have a fever? Let me see." "Let Shashi touch him once? It seems like he has a fever." Gopal says again, "I am old, what if I suddenly die one day, and you won't be there, who will see all this, Shashi? Everything I have struggled for my whole life will all be in vain." Shashi says nothing about the fact that he won't be returning for three or four years. She silently starts eating rice. Shashi said in a soft voice, "I will go to improve my life, what's the point of being angry about that?" Shashi silently puts down her rice and leaves.

After thinking for a moment, Gopal said, "Maybe in three or four years, I won't even recognize Shashi when you return." Shashi replied, "I'll give you whatever will make you happy."

He said, "My head is burning! I completely forgot how many times Mama forbade me from taking Sendidir's son in front of Shashidar. I'm such a simple man, Babu, how could I remember such complicated things!" Gopal felt somewhat relieved after doing the deed. The reason for his anger was gone, and Shashi wouldn't be angry anymore. Shashi wasn't angry that Sendidir's son had come into the world; she was leaving home because he had been brought into the house. This unjust and inconsistent behavior of Shashi, yet Gopal, with his head bowed, replied to her accusations. It seemed the boy felt a little abandoned as he left the house. His rosy cheeks had turned even redder, and it was impossible to look away from the surprisingly beautiful child, as if it was unbelievable that such a big storm could arise in a house centered around him. The women gathered around Kunda envied the unfortunate boy, or were filled with affection. Shashi's heart was so hard that she didn't want to live in the same house as him. Kunda said, "Who knows what kind of trouble the father and son have gotten into because of this boy. I don't know what will happen, so I'm keeping an eye on them. I took the boy along to see what would happen. I didn't expect to get into such a mess, little aunt. And now, look at the trouble we're in because of him, as if he's not even my son." Fearing that the news wouldn't reach Shashi properly through others, Gopal himself told her. He said, "I sent Kunda to her in-laws' house today, Shashi." Only Gopal knew what he had thought that sleepless night. The next morning, he sent Kunda to her parents' house in Rajatala, along with his son-in-law and Sendidir's son. Lowering his voice, Gopal replied, "You know the truth, Baba, I've killed two birds with one stone. I've also removed Kunda. If the matter of the other son comes up, Shashi won't open her mouth."

Gopal again said, "Kunda will stay there, so there's no need for them to come here." Everyone said, "Yes, Kunda, since bringing that boy, I see Shashi is so angry, not talking to her father, will she leave the house as a married woman?" Gopal said, "Yes, I gave her son to her too." Shashi said, "Rajatala?" "Your mother is eating your head, Kunda! That boy will set the house on fire!" "What else?" Kunda says. Gopal's carefree and cheerful demeanor all day tormented Shashi. She realized that Gopal had resolved all the discord between them, and the days would pass easily as before. Shashi was also surprised to see Gopal believe that such a complex matter could have such a simple and favorable outcome. What does Gopal expect from her? Why is he so eager to keep her? They are incompatible, every day will be a battle, affection, love, respect, and devotion will pile up like a mountain of unrest. Yet, Shashi has to live this contradictory and narrow life in the village? On this vast earth, they have to take refuge in the meaningless and useless allure of two opposing personalities in this small corner of a house? So, if Gopal wanted, what need did he have to take the responsibility of Sendidir's son from Bipin? Shashi doesn't want to know, so Gopal couldn't answer. He can't leave Shashi, nor can he abandon Sendidir's son. To protect himself, like a seasoned politician, he has played a move to justify the strategy he has employed. It's not to argue with the boy and establish irrefutable logic. It's just to let him know that Gopal has lost, his stone son-god, now you abandon your vow to Bhishma. Whatever great pain Shashi felt in her heart for bringing Sendidir's son home, it has become insignificant today as a reason for leaving the house. The deep sorrow that has awakened in Shashi about leaving the village, such a pretext for mental weariness does not satisfy her; she needs a greater greed, a greater attraction. Yet, it is impossible for Gopal to even imagine that.

Gopal will keep the reason for Shashi's departure – to bring Sendi Didi's son home – to himself. Shital Babu had called. Shashi had gone to his house in the evening with Amulya. After feeding Amulya some water, Shital Babu left early in the morning, leaving Shashi after dinner, for many nights. Shital Babu has become another danger for Shashi; he calls him twice a day and drives him crazy in the middle of conversations. Returning home, Shashi saw two extra plates next to the dining table, and Gopal, who usually eats at eight, was sitting there waiting until eleven. Seeing Gopal so agitated, not only for bringing Sendi Didi's son but also for keeping him, Shashi might have changed his mind, or perhaps his plan to leave the village would have been canceled. Now it is too late. Shashi's mind is already far away in a new life; only the empty shell remains, which will reach there in a couple of days. He got rid of the responsibility. What will make him happy, he doesn't know – he'll write a few tearful letters and send a few rupees, that's it, the relationship is over. Shashi said, "You sit down, I have come after eating. Shital Babu wouldn't let me go without eating." "Why the delay, Shashi? Quickly wash your face and hands, let's sit down." Gopal said in a broken voice, "Today I asked Baba to arrange for a little cooking, thinking that the next son has come to a house, he will leave tomorrow or the day after, so I thought I would arrange a little feast for one day. I didn't know you would come from outside after eating." Gopal said, "What are you saying! My son will be leaving the country forever, and you will sit in his place, you have a great intention!" "Get up, you fool, leave your bed of comfort, quietly pack your things, and then we will say goodbye." This explanation from the milkman enrages Amulya, who was awakened in the middle of the night. He says, "I didn't know when Shashi was leaving, he didn't tell me anything." Gopal said in a tone of dissatisfaction, "You didn't tell everything, why didn't you tell me this one thing? What kind of intention did you have, Babu, that you kept it secret?"

"Ah, it will be difficult to ask Dekedoo to come and go," Gopal thought with a heavy heart. "Tomorrow?" Gopal couldn't utter another word. As Shashi went into the room, he went straight to the veranda and sat on the wooden bench in the dark. A wise man was arranging for sleep on the veranda; he offered Gopal a 'khilim' (a type of betel leaf preparation), then, unable to lie down in front of his master, he sat on the spread mat, exhausted, and let out a deep sigh. Today, Gopal was remembering the Brahmin. After Sendidira's death, a deep sadness and detachment had come over him, and in a strange way, his time passed listening to the Brahmin's dry spiritual stories. Today, he felt very weary. His long, eventful life seemed meaningless – it had all been for nothing! Since the day of Shashi's birth, he had made so many plans, keeping a close watch on his feet. Whose tail has almost touched the sky, and what lessons has Shashi learned, playing with the clouds? The garden, the house, the land, the wealth, the relatives – all that Gopal has gathered, is it all for himself? How much time does he have left? If Shashi leaves, abandoning all this triviality, won't his whole life be a failure? "No, no, what are you saying!" Amulya exclaimed. Gopal said fearfully, "If you leave, what will Shashi do again?" Shashi said, "Why would Amulya leave? He has been given a job in the hospital, hasn't he?" "I am thinking of leaving tomorrow." - Shashi said. Shashi asked, "Who is the next son?" Gopal looked like a dacoit, and his words sounded like a murderer's. The strange, dramatic conversation in Amulya's room did not reach Shashi's peaceful consciousness; she remained lifeless, like a puppet, unaware of the intense awareness of life that he possessed. The strange scene that Gopal enacts in the middle of the night, and the strange things he says, create an experience for Shashi as she watches and listens. After scolding Amulya in a suppressed voice for a while, Gopal's hot head cools slightly, and he goes into the room. What else can he do? This burden is too heavy to bear. With a deeply sad face, he cancels the arrangements for leaving one by one.

The monsoon's fury had barely subsided when Shashi returned, empty-handed. How could he bear to stay in the village if he couldn't even touch every patient in the hospital? Life was full of work and responsibilities, and life filled with work and responsibilities had once again overflowed. Could the current of human life flow in the path carved by its own happiness, like a river? The Gopal who had left never returned. He was a family man, a man of the world, having acquired everything – a fertile land yielding fruits, flowers, and grains throughout his life; chests filled with gold and silver; familial relationships with some, and social relationships with others; responsibilities, obligations, and so on. He gave it all to Shashi, just as he would have given it to his own son if he had died. Kund returned after a few days. He had taken Gopal Sengdida's son with him, having also given him two hundred rupees to buy gold ornaments. Perhaps that was the last obligation. Gopal replied, "Yes, Shashi, I was tired of being harassed by family matters all the time. Now that you are grown up, won't you get at least seven days of leave if you feel restless? Can't you even expect that much from me?" Shashi said in a soft voice, "I didn't say anything because I was suddenly leaving. Didn't you say anything to me yesterday?" Shashi bowed to Gopal. Seeing the two faces in the clear morning light, it seemed as if father and son had never disagreed on any matter, their paths in life diverging. Gopal said easily, "I'm going to Kashi today to see your father, Shashi. I'll be staying at the ashram for seven or eight days. I can't stay at someone else's house. Do as you please when I return." Gopal said with great sorrow, "No, if you can stay, then tell me, and I'll cancel my trip. Who can break the writing of fate?" The next morning, he called Shashi up very early. Shashi got up and saw that Gopal was ready to leave, with a box on his head. Shashi said, "Well, let's go – I won't have any inconvenience even if you leave a little later." Shashi said, "Why are you suddenly going to Kashi?" To file a case, Shashi went to Bajitpur. On his way back, he saw a lightning-struck banyan tree standing with its dry branches by the canal. At Gaudiya Ghat, there was a crowd of boats.

Shashi sees that Nandalal's thatched roof, burdened with layers of sin, is almost collapsing. He feels that Nandalal's body, a mass of accumulated sins, might have crumbled away by now. Shashi doesn't walk briskly anymore; he enters the village with slow steps. His eyes don't search for the complete, vibrant form of the village – the trees, houses, ponds, and muddy roads – but rather seek out the people. Those who are there, and those who were. In front of Srinath's shop, under the banyan tree, on the path to Kayetpara. Shashi can still hear the rhythmic sound of the hammer in Yamini Kavi Raj's outer room; the void left by the people of this house has been filled with people. Jadab's house is being swallowed by the jungle, and no one has come to Paran's house yet. Next to it is the palm grove. Shashi never goes to the palm grove. The pleasure of climbing the earthen mound to watch the sunset is something Shashi will never experience again in this life. Is it the pull of the canal, cut by human hands, its movement an irresistible command from some unknown force? Like gravity, eternal and unchanging.