was only for a day. After my marriage, you were pleased to write in reply to your third brother's letter,—'By contracting this marriage out of his own motion, Narayan Chandra has added to the glory of my name. In fact, I consider myself fortunate that Narayan Chandra has entered into this alliance.' Father, what greater fortune or happiness is desirable in this life? That was my heavenly bliss. You are my king of kings, my world-respected father, and I am your base, unworthy son; if, by my act, I have been able to generate pleasurable feelings in your noble heart even for a single moment, I have been most fortunate. O father,—alas! I address you in this letter repeatedly with the word—father, this address sends a thrilling sensation through my frame; but I have not the good luck in this life to call you by the sweet address—papa. When Pyari[1] calls me papa, my heart dances in delight, but at the next instant, that delight turns itself to deep sorrow; an eager desire to call you papa rises in my mind, but at the very moment, the thought that I have been deprived of that privilege—the vain hope damps my spirits. And a sudden idea strikes me that, instead of my unfortunate self, if you had had a son to your mind, then he might have, like Pyari, caused you a great delight by calling you papa. But I being born to be your unfortunate
- ↑ Pyari—Narayan Chandra's son.
