Friend or Lover? A virtuous wife and a respected lord Are each to either all—kindred and friends, Wealth, love and life, and all the heart Should covet.⁵⁰⁰ Sarasvatichandra stood on the platform of their togetherness and shared dream, wondering how the sandalwood tree that he had raised and cared for would deal with this new and severe blow. He wondered if the strength he had given her would enable her to withstand it. He saw Kumud approach the pool of water. She bathed herself and washed her hair. All her companions stood in silence like statues and mourned with Kumud. The man who stood on the platform of his cave imagined Kumud’s tears adding to the water of the pool. Her waist-long wet hair, the clothes clinging to her body, her withered face and her slow, unsteady movement gave her solace. Desire, compassion and sorrow assailed him and deep sighs of dejection palpitated in his heart. Love flowed through his veins. He sang along with the poet Narmad. Beloved, accept the salam of your Yaar, Do not be careworn, take not to heart the meanness. Many a wounds you have borne, passed through fiery ordeals; Food has become tasteless, waters have flooded your boat.

A union of two alike, desires of both have been slain; Companionship has been broken, both lost the race. Crafted of the same jewel, set in gold, But the union was scowled at, all colours lie scattered. Kumud! My Kumud! Beloved! Stop mourning! Break the shackles! Tell me, what may I do for thee? Why does the heart ache? We are in a new land, We shall roam in different garb. We have nothing to fear of society, We have renounced the ways of the world. We have left our kin behind, They, too, have abandoned us. The way of the ascetics is delightful, Accept these robes if you will. This is the play of the Creator, Beloved! These are the signs He sent. Beloved! Grieve no more, Come, be one with this heart. Beloved! Pine no more, Offer a sacrifice to love. As these words flowed out of his heart, Kumud’s ascetic companions gave her new clothes. Sarasvatichandra could not see if Kumud’s eyes were filled with tears or dry. She wiped her body, changed her red saree and wore the new ochre clothes given to her. Both her seen and unseen body signalled something to the eyes that watched her intently. She now stood in the garb of an ascetic. The body stopped sending signals to the eyes. Kumud stood before him, young in body but the very embodiment of a hermit. Sarasvatichandra watched her with tranquil mind, his heart filled with emotions that were pure. Kumud’s companions chorused in delicate voices, ‘Nandko Nandan ek anand det hai! Vishnudasji ki jai! Chandravali Maiya ki jai! Madhuri Maiya ki jai!’

The group disappeared from his vision into their cave. Sarasvatichandra had just sat down to write the narrative of their dream when he was interrupted