Passions Unseen and Palpable Vows Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, And Jove but laughs at Lovers’ perjury! —Dryden²⁶⁹ Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. —Shakespeare²⁷⁰ Half a furlong away from Yadu Shrunga, the monastery headed by Vishnudas, there was a math for householders called the Grihastha Math. At some distance from it was a math for women ascetics, both unmarried and widowed, called the Parivrajika Math. The women’s quarters were built on the same pattern as the monastery. The quarters for couples also resembled the general design, but that building had an upper storey where there were rooms for couples and each room had a terrace of its own. This math was also called Vihara. These three buildings were separated by hills and forests in which the ascetics had created spaces for meditation, penance and leisure. A large number of birds nested in these trees. Bhakti Maiya and the others reached the Parivrajika Math at noon. Kumud had withered like a lotus in the heat of summer. The exertion and hunger were too much for her to bear, but the new scenery enthused her somewhat. She had learnt about the three monastic houses and the philosophy of Alakh from her associates on their way up the mountain. She had also enquired about Navinchandra whenever the occasion presented itself. Knowing her intimate desires, her clever associates satisfied all her curiosities and implanted in her a seed of hope. The Parivrajika Math was built around a large courtyard. There was a platform at the centre of the courtyard on which there was a basil plant and a peepal tree. Kumud was seated under the tree. The sadhvis surrounded her, and time went by in their questions and her responses. Finally, they sat down for their meal in a veranda. They sat in different groups and each group talked about different subjects. Some discoursed about knowledge, others about aesthetics while some talked of practical issues. Some read the Adhyatma Ramayana, while someone else sang abhangs of Tuka and explained them to others in a mix of Gujarati and Marathi. Two–three groups sang devotional songs in ‘concert’ to the accompaniment of the ektara and other stringed instruments like the tambura. They passed the afternoon in such innocent, aesthetic and pious activities. Kumud slept for a while. She woke up refreshed by the mountain air and enthusiastically tried to join in the new community. The nuns were also pleased by the change in her disposition. As the moon came up in the sky, Kumud also flowered like her namesake lotus. A window opened out onto the ‘precipice’ where Kumud sat; looking out of the window, her focus shifted between the world outside and the conversation between Bansari and Mohini. The precipice was about fifty hands deep. The path from Surgram took a bend right below the window. From the window only about fifteen metres of the pathway was visible after which it disappeared from view. It