Indira and Other Stories/The Two Rings/Chapter 5
V
Hiranmayi was a beautiful young woman. It was not fitting that she should sleep alone in a house by herself. Not only was there obvious risk, but there might be occasion for scandalous gossip. It happened that one Amala, daughter of a milkman by caste, dwelt hard by. This woman was a widow with a baby son and some young daughters. This person had passed the age of youth and attractiveness, and had the reputation of being a woman of excellent character. So Hiranmayi used to go and spend the night in her house.
One evening, when Hiranmayi had arrived at her new friend's house, Amala said to her, "I have heard a piece of news. They say Purandar Chetty has returned home after an absence of eight years." On hearing these unexpected tidings, Hiranmayi turned away her face, lest Amala should see the sudden tears that came to her eyes. It seemed to her as if her last tie with the world was loosed. Purandar had succeeded in dismissing her from his mind. Else why should he return? On the other hand, what mattered it to her now, whether Purandar remembered or forgot her? True. Yet it went hard with her to think that he whose affection had been the guiding star of her whole life should have forgotten her. Then the thought came, "Perhaps he has not forgotten me after all! How long was he to stay away from his home? Besides his father was now dead. His presence at home was absolutely necessary." Again she thought, "I am nothing else but a wanton. Else why, being a married woman, do I think about Purandar at all?"
Amala asked, "Do you mean to say you have forgotten young Purandar? I mean Purandar, the son of Suchisuta Chetty."
Hiranmayi replied, "I remember him."
"Well, then," continued Amala, "he has come back, with ships full of treasure that cannot be counted. They say he has brought back more riches than have ever been seen in Tamluk before."
A strange pang of something like envy came into Hiranmayi's heart. She remembered her own poverty, and the old arrangement that she was to be Purandar's wife. The pain of poverty is a thing grievous to be borne, and all these riches of which Amala spoke might have been hers. There are few women who would not have felt the contrast between her actual state and what might have been. For a while Hiranmayi remained wrapped in thought. Then she turned the conversation to other matters. Finally, as the women were retiring to rest, she suddenly asked, "Amala, has the young merchant a wife?"
Amala replied, "No, he is not married."
A strange commotion came over Hiranmayi's spirits. For a moment she thought—but no, she would ask no more questions. She retired silently to rest.