that Gobind Lâl Babu’s wife—in what are they more virtuous than I? For what former merit is this happiness their reward? Why am I destined to have none? But, never mind! I don't grudge other people their happiness—but why are all paths closed to me? Why should I continue this joyless life?"
There! I told you Rohini was not good. See how her bad temper comes out in a trifle like this! Her faults indeed were many—should the sight of her tears excite sympathy? No, not at all. And yet, why judge so harshly? We should weep with others in their grief. The gods do not withhold their rain even from the thorny field.
So granta little pity to Rohini! Look at her there, still sitting on the steps, her hands pressed to her temples, weeping, her empty kalsi on the water, dancing in the breeze.
At last the sun has set, gradually black shadows fall on Bârunî's blue water, at last darkness has come. The birds have all flown to the trees. The cows have all turned homewards. The moon rises and sheds her soft light on the darkness. Still
