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 buy necessities for her sick mother. But before the ceremony was half over, heavy rain fell and dispersed the crowd. Not a soul bought the girl's simple garlands. Radharani stayed on. What matter if she were soaked by the rain? Perhaps the storm would abate and the spectators would return. But, alas, the rain continued pitilessly. No one came back to the deserted car. Evening drew on, and night fell. The night was stormy and dark, and poor Radharani had to turn weeping homewards.

The night was very dark, the roads were miry and slippery, the child had to feel her way through the growing dusk. Added to that, the heavy rain of the month of Sravan fell on her with a force that made her cower before the storm. Worst and most cruel of all was the thought that she had been unable to make any provision for her mother's needs. Half blinded by her tears, by the storm, by the darkness of the night, the child felt her way, stumbling and falling. The wet locks of her loose hair were blown across her rainwashed face. But the