She would need money—for food and drink, for medicine and remedies. She would have to earn at least enough to feed herself. Since childhood, she had learned to tend cows and cut grass. But where were cows here? Yes, she could cut grass. Many men and women from the neighborhood would go together outside the town to cut grass and earn eight or ten annas. At dawn, she would wash Gobar’s hands and face, entrust the child to him, and set out to cut grass, working hungry and thirsty until late afternoon. Then she would take the grass to the market, sell it, and return home in the evening.

At night, she would sleep and wake with Gobar’s rhythms, yet despite such hard labor, her heart remained so light, as if she were sitting on a swing, singing. All along the way, she would joke and banter with the men and women walking with her. Even while cutting grass, laughter and teasing would continue among them. There was no lamenting fate, no complaints about hardship. The joy that lies in the meaning of life, in making the hardest sacrifices for one’s own, in the freedom of selfless service—its radiance seemed to shine from every limb of her body. Just as a child, standing on its own feet, claps with delight, so did she feel, as if a spring of happiness had burst open within her soul! And when the mind is healthy, how can the body remain unwell? In that single month, it was as if she had been transformed. There was no more weakness in her limbs—now there was agility, suppleness, delicacy. The pallor had left her face; now there was a rosy glow of blood. Her youth, which had withered in the closed room under the weight of humiliation and quarrels, now seemed to blossom, revived by fresh air and sunlight. Now, nothing could make her angry. Where once she would lose her temper at the child’s slightest cry, now it seemed her patience and love knew no end.

In contrast, even as Gobar’s health improved, he remained somewhat downcast. When we inflict cruelty upon a loved one, and when misfortune gives us the strength to truly feel their pain, then an awakening stirs in our soul, and we become ready to atone for our unjust actions. Gobar, too, was restless with the urge for such atonement. Now his life would take on a new form, where harshness would be replaced by gentleness, pride by humility. He now understood that the chance to serve is a great blessing, and he would never again forget this opportunity.

:28:

To Mr. Khanna, the workers’ strike seemed utterly unjustified. He had always tried to remain on the side of the people. He considered himself a man of the people. During the recent nationalist movement, he had shown great enthusiasm. He had been a leading figure in the district, had gone to jail twice, and had suffered losses of several thousand rupees.