He had no spirit left. Ashamed, he said, "Malti, I fall at your feet, please do not humiliate me any further. If nothing else, at least let our friendship remain."

Saying this, he took out his checkbook from the drawer, wrote a thousand, and, trembling, handed it to Malti.

Malti took the check and said with merciless irony, "Is this the price of my affection, or a donation to the gymnasium?"

With tearful eyes, Khanna replied, "Now spare me, Malti. Why are you blackening my face like this?"

Malti burst out laughing, "Look, I scolded you and still managed to collect a thousand rupees. Now you’ll never dare such mischief again, will you?"

"Never, never in my life."

"Hold your ears."

"I hold my ears, but now, have mercy and go. Let me sit alone and think—and weep. Today you have taken all the joy from my life..."

Malti laughed even louder, "Look Khanna, you are insulting me greatly, and you know, beauty cannot tolerate insult. I did you a kindness, and you take it as an offense."

Khanna looked at her with eyes full of rebellion and said, "You have done me a kindness, or have you slit my throat with a blunt knife?"

"Why, was I robbing you to fill my own house? You have been saved from that robbery."

"Why are you rubbing salt into my wounds, Malti? I am a human being too."

Malti looked at Khanna as if she wanted to decide whether he was truly a human or not.

"I see no sign of it yet."

"You are a complete riddle, today it is proven."

"Yes, I am a riddle for you, and I shall remain so."

Saying this, she flitted away like a bird, and Khanna, placing his hand on his head, began to wonder—is this a play, or is it her true self?

---

After Gobar and Jhunia left, the house became desolate. Dhaniya was constantly reminded of Chunnu. The child's mother was Jhunia, but it was Dhaniya who had raised him. She would rub him with scented paste, apply kohl to his eyes, put him to sleep, and whenever she found a moment free from work, she would shower him with love. This intoxication of motherhood alone kept her oblivious to her misfortunes. Seeing his innocent, butter-soft face, she would forget all her worries, and her heart would swell with loving pride. That foundation of her life was no longer there. Seeing his empty cot, she would break down in tears. The armor that had protected her from all anxieties and disappointments had been snatched away. The witch had come and turned her golden home to dust. Gobar had not even replied to any of her letters. That wretched woman had bewitched him, and who knows what dances she would make him perform there. Here, she hardly cared for the child. She could never tear herself away from her hair parting, her kohl, her braids. How would she care for the