On the outskirts of the city, by the banks of the Ganges, the royal officials designated a grand mansion for Hemchandra’s residence. Following the advice of Madhavacharya, Hemchandra took up his abode in that splendid mansion. In Nabadwip, there lived an aged Brahmin named Janardana. He was rendered wholly incapable by the infirmities of extreme old age and the loss of his hearing. Yet he was helpless. His wife, too, was advanced in years and devoid of strength. Some days ago, their humble thatched cottage had been destroyed by a violent storm. Since then, lacking any other refuge, they had been residing—by permission of the royal officials—on one side of this great city. Now, having heard that a prince of the royal house was to come and dwell there, they were preparing to relinquish their borrowed rights and set out in search of another shelter.

Hemchandra, upon hearing this, was grieved. He reflected that in this vast mansion, there was room enough for both of them. Why should the Brahmin be rendered homeless? Hemchandra commanded Digvijaya, “Forbid the Brahmin from leaving his home.” The servant, with a slight smile, replied, “This task cannot be accomplished by a servant. The Brahmin pays no heed to my words.”

Indeed, the Brahmin paid heed to scarcely anyone—for he was deaf. Hemchandra thought, “The Brahmin, out of wounded pride, does not listen to the servant’s words.” Therefore, he himself went to speak with him. He bowed before the Brahmin.

Janardana, bestowing his blessing, asked, “Who are you?”

H. I am your servant.

J. What did you say—your name is Ramakrishna?

Hemchandra realized that the Brahmin’s hearing was indeed very poor. Therefore, in a louder voice, he said, “My name is Hemchandra. I am the Brahmin’s servant.”

J. Good, good; at first I did not hear clearly, your name is Hanuman Das.

Hemchandra thought, “Let the matter of names be. So long as the purpose is served.” He said, “This mansion belongs to the lord of Nabadwip, he—” He has appointed this for my lodging. I heard that, upon my arrival, you are preparing to leave this place.”

Old Man: No, I have not yet gone to bathe in the Ganges; I am only making preparations for the bath.

Hemchandra (in a loud voice): You may bathe at the proper time. At this moment, I have come to request that you do not leave this house.

Old Man: Shall I not dine in the house? What about at your place? Is it the first day of the funeral rites?

Hemchandra: Very well; if you desire food and such, arrangements will be made for that as well. For now, please remain in this house as you have been.

Old Man: Very well, very well; if you arrange a feast for the Brahmins, the customary gifts must also be given. That goes without saying. Where is your house?

Hemchandra, disheartened, was turning away when suddenly someone tugged at the end of his upper garment from behind. Hemchandra turned and, at first glance, felt as if a goddess sculpted of flowers stood before him. In the next moment, he saw the image was alive; in the third, he realized it was not an idol, but a maiden—or perhaps a young woman—who seemed to embody the very limits of the Creator’s artistry.

Maiden or young woman? Hemchandra could not be certain as he gazed at her.

In a voice sweeter than the veena, the beautiful girl said, “What were you saying to Grandfather? Why should he have to hear your words?”

Hemchandra replied, “Well, he did not hear them, as you see. Who are you?”

The girl said, “I am Manoroma.”

Hemchandra: Is he your grandfather?

Manoroma: What were you saying to Grandfather?

Hemchandra: I heard that he is preparing to leave this house. I have come to prevent him from doing so.

Manoroma: A prince has come to this house. He has— Why will you not let us stay?

Yes. I am that prince. I request you all, please remain here.

Mother: Why?

There is no answer to this ‘why’. Failing to find any other reply, Hemchandra said, “Why? Suppose your brother came and lived in this house, would he drive you away?”

Mother: Are you my brother?

Hemchandra: From today, I am your brother. Do you understand now?

Mother: I understand. But will you ever scold me just because I am your sister?

Hemchandra was astonished by Manoroma’s manner of speaking. He thought, “Is she some miraculous, innocent girl? Or mad?”

He said, “Why would I scold you?”

Mother: What if I do something wrong?

Hemchandra: Who does not scold when they see a fault?

Manorama stood there, somewhat hurt, and said, “I have never seen a brother; do brothers feel embarrassed?”

Hemchandra: No.

Mother: Then I will not embarrass you—will you embarrass me?

Hemchandra smiled and said, “I could not convey my request to your grandfather—what can be done now?”

Mother: I will tell him.

Saying this, Manorama softly conveyed Hemchandra’s wish to Janardhan in a gentle voice.

Hemchandra was surprised to see that Manorama’s gentle words were understood even by the deaf. The Brahmin, overjoyed, blessed the prince and said, “Manorama, tell the Brahmani that the prince is her grandson—let her bless him.” Saying this, the Brahmin himself began to call out, “Brahmani! Brahmani!” The Brahmani was then engaged elsewhere in household duties—she did not hear the call. The Brahmin, displeased, said, “That is a great fault of the Brahmani. She hears little.”