At midnight I got a message. Shubala was dying, would I come and bring what Doctors and Nurses I thought necessary. We were soon at the house, and a properly qualified Doctor and Nurse saw my poor little Shubala through the worst of her troubles. The Doctor said Shubala would live, but that her mother did not deserve that bounty.
As the Nurse was English, I stayed on to see things through, keeping watch with my Shubala's Mother and Grandmother in their empty Pooja-Ghar; empty because at the time of a birth God may be approached direct, and apart from images.
The Father-in-law had resumed his instructions translated into English this time, for the Memsahib Nurse: and presently I heard, "Now it is time to light a fire on the top of the Mother."
Nurse bustled out to seek my help in protesting. This was the ancient way of dealing with the fear of collapse; and
