(76)
Shelidah,
May: 1893.
I am now back again in the boat, which is my home. Here I am the sole master, and no one has any claim on me or my time. The boat is like my old dressing gown,—when I get inside I step into a great, loose-fitting comfortable leisure. I think as I like, I imagine what I please, I read or write as much as I feel inclined to, or with my legs on the table and my eyes on the river, I steep myself to the full in these sky-filled, light-filled, rest-filled days.
After this interval it will take me some days to get over the awkwardness of renewing my old relations with my old friend, the Padma. By the time I have done some reading and writing and wandering by the river side, however, the old friendship will come back quite naturally.
I really do love the Padma immensely. As the elephant, Airavat, is for Indra,[1] so is she my favourite steed,—albeit not thoroughly tamed and still a little wild,—and I feel I want lovingly to stroke her neck and back.
The water is very low now, and flows in a thin, clear stream, like a slim, fair maiden gracefully
- ↑ The Jupiter Pluvius of Hindu Mythology.
