the priest of the temple knew anything about them. So it must have come as a surprise to you.
After trimming and polishing the silver lamps of the temple and washing the back stairs, I came round to the front. I knelt down and swept the marble steps with my hair. The last rays of the departing daylight struck upon my white and gold sari and made it glow. This attracted your eyes and you came forward and asked, "Sunanda, what makes you kneel here before this god of stone?"
The truth rushed to my lips. But I held it back. I must not tell you the truth before the day of final parting. So I said, "My god has made me kneel here."
Suddenly you cried out, "What is this? Why do you sweep the stairs with your hair? Who is the fortunate being, the dust of whose feet dare to aspire so high?"
I laughed and said, "Do not you know that to a woman her beloved is above God?"
In the dark I could not see your face. Your voice was hoarse as you said, "What has he given you in return for this?"
"I do not keep count of that, I am satisfied with giving."
"So you have given away all to him? Have you kept nothing at all for others?"
I replied, "No, when we give, we give all."
Then you said, "Sunanda, is there then really no hope for me?"
I replied, "Indeed! What is it that you expect from me?"
You went away without another word. I too left soon after.
All through the night I lay awake, listening to the crash of thunder, and the roar of the river as it broke down its banks. The rain fell in torrents and at intervals
