wearing the hideous face of the idol Kali. The little that he could see of her tongue now seemed to be fully protruding. It seemed as if she had grown an extra pair of arms. In one hand she held a blood-smeared sword, in the other a severed head, which seemed to be that of Bhabatosh himself. In another dream he seemed to have lost himself in a thorny jungle. As he was anxiously seeking a path out of it, a she-buffalo came up and tried to rush at him. The brute was wearing a Bombay sari of the people colour. Her face was that of Jagadamba, only that she had two horns.
When there were but three days to the wedding, Bhabatosh thought he would write to his mother and stop the marriage. That day he did not go to College. He sat alone all day in his room writing and tearing up letter after letter. What would his comrades say when they should hear the marriage was broken off? How would he be able to endure their jeers and their banter?
That night as he lay on his bed, he resolved that without a word to any one he would go off to the Western Provinces. He got up, lit his lamp, and turned over the leaves of the time table. But at dawn his mood again changed. What? Should he after making all this fuss incur the name of a coward? That should never be. He would fulfil his vow, whatever may his lot be afterwards.
