Page:Between the twilights being studies of Indian women by one of themselves (IA betweentwilights00soraiala).pdf/13



N the language of the Zenana there are two twilights, “when the Sun drops into the sea,” and “when he splashes up stars for spray,” the Union, that is, of Earth and Sun, and, again, of Light and Darkness.

And the space between is the time of times in these sun-wearied plains in which I dwell. One sees the world in a gentle haze of reminiscence—reminiscence of the best. There, across the horizon, flames the Sun’s “good-bye.” Great cave of mystery, or lake of liquid fire: anon pool of opal and amethyst, thoughts curiously adjustable to the day that is done, memory of joy or sorrow, of strength of love, or disregard of pain. Gradually the colour fades, now to a golden fleece of the softest, now to wisps of translucence, blush-pink, violet: oft-times the true ecstasy of colour is in the east, away from the Sun’s setting. Or, now again, the sky is a study in grays and