Page:Between the twilights being studies of Indian women by one of themselves (IA betweentwilights00soraiala).pdf/122

102 for him with whom she was forbidden to die. Perhaps the living sacrifice began when she was but twelve years of age … perhaps she lived to seven times twelve. … “What did you do?” I asked of one such, “in the long ago when life pulsed in your veins?” She smiled at me the smile of her who has attained. “There were the children of other people who needed love; there is always my house of Gods. … I am a Swami-bakht (worshipper of my husband).”

She to whom I refer was loved and honoured, the high priestess, so to speak, of her family. “She was too holy for life’s common-place, so the Destroyer set her free to pray,” as said her Father. Yet, she also was accursed, a thing of ill-omen, not to be seen on occasions auspicious, barred then, even from the Temple. If aught went wrong in the house, even her staunchest friend would say: “I must have looked at your face this morning, Didi.” And, to be the bringer of bad luck, that must be the hard part of the lot of these women. That they keep their faces to the Light, in spite of this, seems to me the very crown of Sainthood.