Hori’s entire crop had been claimed by the landlord’s dues. Somehow they scraped through the month of Vaishakh, but by the time Jeth arrived, not a single grain of food remained in the house. Five mouths to feed, and not a morsel to be found. If both meals could not be had, at least one should be. If not a full stomach, at least half. Who can go hungry day after day? But from whom could he borrow? He had to avoid the small and big mahajans of the village. And even if he wanted to work for wages, whose work would he do? In Jeth, there was enough work in his own fields. The sugarcane needed watering, but how could one labor on an empty stomach?

Evening had fallen. The youngest child was crying. If the mother had nothing to eat, how could she produce milk? Sona understood their plight, but what could little Rupa comprehend? She kept wailing for bread. All day she had distracted herself with raw mangoes, but now she needed something solid. Hori had gone to Dulari Sahua’in to ask for grain on credit, but she had closed her shop and gone to the market. Mangru Sah not only refused him, but scolded him as well—“Here you come asking for credit, and for three years you haven’t paid a paisa of interest, yet you keep asking for more. Now you’ll pay in the afterlife! When a man’s intentions turn bad, this is what happens. Even God cannot bear such injustice. When the clerk scolded you, you somehow managed to cough up the money. As if it was only my money you had to pay. And your wife—her temperament never matches mine.”

Dejected and on the verge of tears, Hori sat down when Punia came to borrow fire. She went to the kitchen door and saw it was shrouded in darkness. She asked, “Aren’t you making bread tonight, bhabhi? It’s already late.”

Since Gobar had broken the marriage, Punia and Dhaniya had started speaking again. She had even begun to acknowledge Hori’s kindness. Now she cursed Hira—“Murderer, killed a cow and ran away. He’s disgraced, how can he return home? And even if he does, I won’t let him set foot inside. He felt no shame in killing a cow. It would have been better if the police had taken him away and made him grind grain in jail.”

Dhaniya could not make any excuses. She replied, “How can I make bread when there isn’t a grain in the house? Your Mahto fed the whole biradari, but whether our children live or die, now the biradari doesn’t even look our way.”

Punia’s harvest had been good, and she admitted that it was thanks to Hori’s hard work. She had never prospered so much with Hira.

She said, “Why didn’t you ask for grain from my house? Isn’t that Mahto’s earning too? When good times come, you can quarrel, but in sorrow, it’s only by weeping together