A New Night The meanest vesture glows On beauty that enchants: The lotus lovelier shows Amid dull water-plants.¹⁷⁴ My love within a forest walked alone, All in a moonlit dale; And here awhile she rested, weary grown, And from her shoulders threw the wimpled veil, To court the little gale. I peering through the thicket saw it all, The yellow moonbeams fall, I saw them mirrored from her bosom fly, Back to the moon on high.¹⁷⁵ ‘D ulari! O’ my sweet Dulari! Behold the grace of the Divine Mother!’ The ascetic came out of her hut and embraced and kissed the young woman seated on the platform of the temple on the island. The young woman’s eyes were riveted on the sea. ‘Chandravali behn, I fervently meditate, but the man in my heart remains captured in it,’ the young woman wiped her tears with a handkerchief and continued to look out to the sea.

‘Which of the two refuses to leave your heart?’ Chandravali sat beside her and asked. ‘The man to whom I was given in marriage would be happy at the news of my death; for that reason I am happy to be here in the abode of the Goddess. But the great soul who cut me off from his life, but has not been able to dislodge me from his heart, remains etched within my greedy, wretched heart as well. Oh, he renounced his wealth, his family and even me for my own good. I would get some respite only when the light of the Goddess illuminates my dark heart.’ A deep sigh escaped her. Dear reader, you would most certainly have recognised the one who said these words. Chandravali and the other women had saved the drowning Kumud and their care and ministrations had revived her. For the past four days Chandravali had sought to soothe Kumud’s troubled mind. The clothes that were on her body, a reminder of her life as a householder, were thrown into the river and she was given a silken garment sanctified by the goddess. This frail, grief-stricken woman looked ever so beautiful in her new clothes, which fluttered in the westerly sea winds. Kumud had not shared her identity or those of her father and father-in-law with Chandravali. She had not uttered the names of Pramaddhan and Sarasvatichandra while sharing her story and grief with Chandravali, who had heard her with great compassion and patience. Chandravali had given her a new name: Madhuri. ‘Madhuri, the water that flows towards this island is the door to heaven. Those who enter this sacred land leave behind the cares of earthly existence. Just as one man has left your heart, the other too will leave. Have faith in the Mother.’ The fading light of the setting sun cast a shadow over Kumud’s face and the gloom of her heart darkened her visage. She gave no response and continued to look at the moonlight now slowly spreading over the water. Chandravali: ‘Madhuri, look at