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 suddenly took a turn for the worse, and when I asked her about it she said: ‘This is my secret wealth, my touchstone. With it, as dower, I was able to come to you. Otherwise I would not have been worthy.’

The doctors, each of them, had a different name for the malady. Neither did they agree in their prescriptions. When my little hoard of gold was blown away between the cross-fire of the doctors’ fees and the chemist’s bills, the chapter of medicament came to an end, and change of air was advised. As a matter of fact, hardly anything of changeable value was left to us except air.

‘Take me to the place from which I brought the pain,’ said Damini. ‘It has no dearth of air.’

When the month of Magh ended with its full moon and Phalgun began, while the sea heaved and sobbed with the wail of its lonely eternity, Damini, taking the dust of my feet, bade farewell to me with the words:

‘I have not had enough of you. May you be mine again in our next birth.’