This morning Amulya is supposed to return from Calcutta. I have told Behari to let me know as soon as he arrives. But I cannot remain still. I went and sat in the outer drawing room.

When I sent Amulya to Calcutta to sell my jewelry, I suppose I thought of nothing but myself. It never occurred to me, not even once, that he is just a boy; if he goes to sell such valuable jewelry, everyone will suspect him. We women are so helpless that we seem to have no way but to shift our own dangers onto others’ shoulders. When we are drowning, we drag five others down with us.

I had spoken with such pride, saying I would save Amulya. As if one who is herself sinking can save another! Alas, alas, am I the one who has doomed him? My brother, am I truly such a sister to you, that the day I gave you brother’s blessing in my heart, Yama, the god of death, smiled in his heart as well? What a burden of misfortune I am carrying today!

Today it seems to me that at certain times, a person—

The plague of misfortune strikes—its seeds come suddenly from nowhere, and in a single night, death draws near. At such times, can it not be kept far away from all household life? I can clearly see how dreadful its contagion is! Like a torch of disaster, it burns itself only to set the world aflame.

It is nine o’clock. I have a strange feeling that Amulya has fallen into grave danger, that the police have caught him. There has been some commotion at the police station over my jewelry box—whose box it is, where it was found, in the end I shall have to answer for it. What answer shall I give before all the people of the world?

Mejorani, all this time I have treated you with such disdain! Today your day has come! Today you will exact your due, assuming the form of the whole world. O Lord, save me now—let all my pride be swept away, let me lie at Mejorani’s feet!

I could bear it no longer—at once I went inside the house and presented myself before Mejorani. She was sitting on the veranda in the sunlight, preparing betel leaves, with Thako seated beside her.

At the sight of Thako, my heart shrank for a moment—but I quickly overcame it, and fell at Mejorani’s feet, touching the dust at her feet. She exclaimed, “What is this, Chotorani? What has happened to you? Why this sudden devotion?”

I said, "Didi, today is my birthday. I have committed many wrongs—please, Didi, bless me, so that I may never again bring you any sorrow! My heart feels so small!"

Saying this, I bowed to her once more and hurriedly left. She called after me, "Why, Chhutu, your birthday, and you didn’t tell me before? You must come here for lunch today. My dear sister,