Vedantic Tales : I Carry

The boy folded his hands and bowed his head. Then he smiled almost mischievously, and an irrepressible, contagious laughter poured from his eyes and entered her heart.

Bless you, Mother, he said. Then casually, as though he would see her again shortly, he turned and walked off down the lane, singing the same carefree, liquid song.

Prema carried the basket of food into the house and then sat beneath the tree in the yard, no longer wanting to spin. The joy in her heart seemed like a fountain overflowing through her whole being. She felt that she had been at some spring festival where she and the boy had laughed and talked together; now she would dwell on every second of it. And yet, there were those ugly red welts inflicted by her own husband! She tried not to think about them until her husband returned.

It was not long before she heard his step in the lane. She lowered her eyes and watched for his shadow to fall across the courtyard. In a moment it did, black against the glaring earth.

Shashadhar wants to save his grain against drought, he said. He had very little to spare, scarcely half a bowlful. It will have to do us for tonight.

He was indeed mad. Slowly she raised her eyes. No, it was the same Niranjan the same piercing and yet kind eyes, the same slightly turned down mouth. True, his hair was mussed, but more like that of a child than of a madman. She knew that whenever he was disappointed he had a habit of running his hand over his hair the wrong way. Despite herself, she smiled, for indeed, with all his learning, he was as guileless and vulnerable as a child. Yet he had done this impossible thing! She made herself frown.

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