At first, there was a protector at the threshold of her womanhood—her husband sat as her guardian. She was carefree then. Now, there was no one to guard that threshold, and so she always kept it tightly shut. Sometimes, weary of the monotony of the household, she would open the door, but at the sight of anyone approaching, she would be frightened and hastily bolt both panels.

Gobur filled the pitcher and brought it out. Everyone drank the sweet sap, and after sharing a hookah of tobacco, they prepared to leave. Bhola said, “Come tomorrow and take the cow, Gobur. Right now, she is eating her fodder.” Gobur’s eyes remained fixed on the cow, and inwardly, he was growing more and more enchanted. He had never imagined the cow would be so beautiful and well-formed. Hori, restraining his greed, said, “I’ll send for her. What’s the hurry?” “You may not be in a hurry, but I am,” Bhola replied. “When you see her at your door, you’ll remember my words.” “I’m very concerned about her, Dada.” “Then send Gobur tomorrow.” Both men placed their baskets on their heads and moved on. They were so happy, it was as if they were returning from a wedding. Hori was elated at the fulfillment of his lifelong desire—and that too, without spending any money. Gobur had received something even more precious: a longing had awakened in his heart. Seizing the moment, he glanced back. Jhunia was standing at the doorway, restless and eager, like hope intoxicated.

Hori could not sleep all night. Lying on his bamboo cot beneath the neem tree, he gazed again and again at the stars. He would have to set up a manger for the cow. It would be better if her manger was separate from the oxen’s. For now, she would have to stay outside at night, but during the monsoon, he would have to find another place for her. People cast the evil eye when animals are kept outside. Sometimes, they perform such witchcraft that the cow’s milk dries up—she won’t even let you touch her udder, and she kicks. No, it’s not right to keep her outside. And who would allow me to set up a manger outside anyway? The estate manager would pout about the evil eye. It wouldn’t be proper to trouble the Rai Sahib with every little complaint. And who listens to me in front of the manager? I’ll tie her inside. The courtyard is small, but a little shed will do. This is just the beginning. She won’t give less than five seers of milk. Gobur alone will need a seer. Rupa always eyes the milk greedily. Now she can drink as much as she wants. Sometimes, I’ll take two or four seers to the landlords. I’ll have to keep the manager happy too. And Bhola’s money should be repaid. Why drag him into the farce of an engagement? A man who trusts me so much—would it be right to betray him?