Two more years passed by. Things happened. Parvati arranged a marriage for Mohendro that met with his approval. The bride, Jolodbala, was both intelligent and efficient and soon Parvati was able to leave most of the household duties with her. Five years had gone by since Parvati married, but she had conceived no children as yet.

Without children or housework to occupy her, her energy and compassion flowed into other channels. She gave money for the upkeep of children in needy families on her estates. She established a guest house for pilgrims and travelers, a hospital for the blind, another guesthouse for the homeless or those incapable of taking care of themselves. She spent the entire allowance that Mr. Choudhury gave her and kept nothing for herself. The servants whispered that expenditure had doubled , even tripled since Parvati came. This kind of talk grew so much that one evening Jolodbala demanded of her husband,

“Are you a nobody in this house?’

Mohendro asked, “Now, why do you say that?”

“Everyone is talking! The servants are all talking! I know your father’s new wife is a great-hearted lady, but- ! you should do something!” Obviously Mohendro had noticed nothing. Surprised, and a little displeased, he inquired

“What talk?”

Jolodbala spoke grimly,”Mother has no children of her own to love, so she lavished money and affection on the entire world instead.”

Mohendro frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You have eyes! Can’t you see? The guesthouses, the donations to the needy- our expenses have doubled, tripled! She might be ensuring her place in heaven, but what of your children? Are we to give everything away and leave them to be beggars?”

Mohendro said, “Are you talking about Mother?”

Jolod replied , ” Its my misfortune that I have to mention these things to you.”

“Are you complaining about Mother?”

Now Jolod flew into a rage.

“There’s no need for me to make any complaints! I’m just letting you know how things stand, or else I’ll be the one who gets the blame in the end!”

Mohendro’s temper was rising too.

“What do you know about giving alms? This is a great and noble house, a zamindari house!”

Jolod shot back, “Perhaps my family is not so great and noble as yours, but I’d like to know just how many charities your Mother’s dad supported in his day!”

Too annoyed to speak, Mohendro turned away and feigned sleep.

Next morning , he sought out Parvati.

“What kind of wife have you found me, Mother? I can’t live with her, and I’m off to Calcutta!”

Shocked, Parvati asked, “Why?”

“She says such mean things about you, I’ve had enough!”

Parvati had been observing her daughter-in-law’s dissatisfaction for a few days, but now shw only laughed and said,

“Shame on you, son. She’s a lovely girl, and I know it.”

Then Parvati went looking for Jolodbala to speak to her privately. She asked, lightly,

“Have you two been quarreling?”

Jolod had been watching her husband’s preparations to leave with apprehension.

Hearing Parvati’s kindly voice, she burst into tears.

“It’s all my fault,” she wept. “But I had to do it. The maids and servants were all talking so!”

Parvati listened to the whole story. She felt contrite and ashamed of her own selfishness.

Comforting Jolod, she said,”Daughter, you’re right. You know I’m not very worldly, and I’ve been careless about the expenses.”

Next, she spoke to Mohendro. “There’s no cause for you to be angry. It’s only because she has your good in mind that she spoke the way she did. She is a fine, responsible girl.”

After this episode, Parvati cut back on her spending. The guesthouses offered fewer beds, the chapel fewer services. Some travelers were turned away.

Sri Chowdhury asked Parvati,”Have the granaries run dry? What’s up?”

Parvati teased, “Will it do to just give and give? We should put something away, too.”

“For what? Am I going to live forever? Don’t we need a few good deeds to shore up our place in the after-life?”

“Well! Isn’t this selfishness, now? Just to think of ourselves? What about our children , and our children’s children? But be patient for a little while, there’s plenty for us to do yet.”

So Sri Chowdhury was disarmed.

As Parvati’s workload grew smaller, she had more time to think and to worry. Now, there is a definite pattern in the way that people think. People who have something to hope for in their lives, think in one way, but those who have nothing to hope for think in another. The hopeful ones can feel pain or joy or anxiety; their thought are lively and can tire them out, but the ones without hope – they feel neither pleasure nor pain, yet they can be content, they are untouched as life breezes past them. So it was with Parvati. Filling her days with ritual, and prayer and good works, she had bound her restless, hopeless mind from wandering aimlessly into the mango-orchards of Tal-Sonapur, into the bamboo thickets, and the old schoolroom. So her days passed, she worked, she conversed pleasantly, she served others. People blessed her, compared her with the compassionate goddess Annapurna, some called her an unworldly saint. However, since yesterday, a hardness entered her soul. Her companions did not know the cause, but we do – and this is it - yesterday she received a letter from her friend, Monoroma of Tal-Sonapur, and this is what the letter had to say:

Parvati, we have not written to each other for a long time, and for that lapse we are both at fault. I pray, however, that you will reply to this letter soon. I have been visiting here for almost a month. We sheltered women don’t know what plain-speaking is – if someone dies, we say he has been given to Mother Ganga, - if we are alive, then we say that we are fine! So let me tell you that I am fine,