Once again, I had to spend two or three months in utter idleness. Nothing appealed to me. I had no inclination to do anything. I didn’t even feel like reading a book. My body was in one place, my mind in another—such was my condition. Now and then, I would go to the fields. There, as I gazed at the lush green paddy fields, the banks of the lake, the ridges between the fields, the flowering plants, and the blossoming creepers, my mind would settle there, while I wandered off to who knows where. I used to wonder, “What madness is this?” Is this experience common to all, or is it my unique fate? I would ponder.

All the dreams I had as a child, all the resolutions I made abroad—once this village girl came into my life, everything turned upside down. She settled into my heart, became my everything, and made herself at home. What a strange thing! Until then, whenever I read about the pangs of separation between heroes and heroines in poetry and epics, they always seemed exaggerated, even a bit comical. Now, though I am not a hero, nor do I possess their delicate sensibilities, I am surprised to find such feelings, such pain, arising in me as well.

To pass the time, I would occasionally visit Narsapur. There, the young men at the bar enrolled me as a member of their club and would invite me to come by now and then. When I went there, I would while away the hours with chatter and games, but upon returning home, everything reverted to its usual state.

While I was in this state of confusion, one afternoon, as I was eating some fruit—

“Well, what are you doing? I have good news for you. Your wife has come of age. The stars and all are favorable, it seems. This evening or tomorrow morning, someone will come to take you there. Your elder brother will arrange for your transport. There’s no escape,” my mother said, and I could even hear the smile in her voice.

As soon as I heard this auspicious news, I was overcome with an inexplicable joy. Though I was sitting, I felt as if I were floating. “Did you hear, boy?” she said, coming over to me with great delight to share the news.

The words, spoken in joy, fell upon my ears. Determined not to let my happiness show, I suppressed it deep within and asked, “Why all this commotion and excitement, mother? Isn’t this what happens to every woman after she is born? You only waited this long for a daughter-in-law, but did you think things would remain the same even after the wedding?” I said this as if I knew nothing.

“Oh, enough of your nonsense! You and your prattle! She’s grown up now. My daughter-in-law is coming home. I’m so happy, I just want to see her walking around the house like Goddess Mahalakshmi herself.”

“Well then, mother, let