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Piari was I to pass the time until then? Looking ahead I saw at a distance a glistening expanse of water. It was a tank or artificial lake, the work of a forgotten zamindar, about a mile in length. One side of it, to the north, had become filled up and was overgrown with a dense jungle. The womenfolk of the village did not dare to come to this tank to fetch water on account of its distance from the village. There was an old ghat, a flight of steps leading down to the water; I went and sat down listlessly on a corner of it. Rumour had it that once upon a time there had been a flourishing village round the lake, and that, devastated by cholera and the plague, it had shifted to its present site. On all sides I could see signs of past habitations. The slanting rays of the setting sun lingered on the dark surface of the water and made it liquid gold, while I sat gazing in silence.

Slowly the sun went down, and the dark water took on a deeper shade. From the adjoining jungle a thirsty jackal came out to the edge of the water, quenched its thirst, and then stole timidly back. It was time for me to get up. The time I had meant to idle away here had passed by, yet for some mysterious reason I felt I could not leave the place: I sat rooted to that flight of steps as if bound by a spell.

How many persons, I thought, had passed and re-passed, stepped and re-stepped over the spot on which I was sitting! How often they had come down this flight of steps to bathe, to wash their clothes, to take water. To what invisible lake did they now resort for these daily wants of theirs? They would come about this time of the evening, and sit on these steps; and many a song and story would soothe and enliven their weariness after the labour of the day. And then, when all on a sudden