of us slowly wended our way back, to find the usual throng round the Master. They sang a kirtan to him, and he waxed ecstatic in his usual manner, and began to dance with them.
That evening the moon was near its full. One corner of our terrace was overhung by the branch of a chalta tree. At the edge of the shadow, under its thick foliage, sat Damini lost in silent thought. Satish was softly pacing up and down our veranda behind her. I had a hobby for diary-writing, in which I was indulging, alone in my room, with the door wide open.
That evening the koil could not sleep; stirred by the south breeze the leaves too were speaking out, and the moonlight, shimmering on them, smiled in response. Something must also have stirred within Satish, for he suddenly turned his steps towards the terrace and went and stood near Damini.
Damini looked round with a start, adjusted her sari[1] over the back of her head, and rose as if to leave. Satish called, ‘Damini!’
She stopped at once, and turning to him appealingly with folded hands she said, ‘My Master, may I ask you a question?’
- ↑ A formal recognition of the presence of an elder.
