Page:Tales of Bengal (Sita and Santa Chattopadhyay).djvu/121

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The Wedding Dress

to look at, but I tell you my daughter is lucky to get such a husband."

Prasanna! And not much to look at! What is this? The daylight suddenly became pitch dark to my eyes and the furniture of the room began to swirl round and round, The old lady shrieked out in alarm. I suppose I must have looked rather strange. My mother threw her arms about me and said, "She has been fasting all the day, she is feeling weak, I think; come along with me, dear, and lie down. you need not sit here any longer." She went away after putting me to bed.

The joyous clamour around me sounded in my ears like the shrieks of the damned. I wished to cry out, but no tears came; instead something heavy as iron settled down upon my heart. It was a drama worth seeing. The flash of lightning was seen, admired by all, but who knew where the thunderbolt struck? Truly, a woman's heart is hard, otherwise how did I bear what I had to bear? A Hindu woman has at times to suffer in silence torments that would beat the records of hell.

It was already evening when a crowd of young girls burst into the room and pulled me up from the bed. The bride must begin her toilette now. They went on dressing and adorning me to their hearts' content while I sat like a statue. After chattering and toiling for nearly two hours they finished their work. My eldest sister-in-law dragged me before a large mirror, and cried out, "Now have a good look, see whether you like your own appearance, never mind about another's likings."

I looked up at my own image, reflected in the mirror. Yes, I was fittingly adorned. I seemed to be wrapped about in flames, and flames too raged in my heart. My dress shone and sparkled as if steeped in liquid fire, my wristlets and necklet of diamond shot sparks of fire. I wished that the fiery borders of my silken cloth would

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