Vedantic Tales : I Carry

Ai! Ai! he cried. He threw his hands up into the air and then fell full length as if prostrating himself before some unseen shrine.

What is it! What is the matter? Prema asked, frightened now. Beyond doubt he was mad.

Niranjan rose and looked at her. He was mad, yes, but mad with joy. His face seemed to shine, and somehow a roundness had come into it.

He tried to speak, but could only manage the words: It was He; it was He! like a child who is so bursting with excitement and wonder that he cannot utter the cause of it.

It was who? she asked.

He pointed to the manuscript and whispered, Look.

Leaning over the faded leaf, he showed her the passage where he had that morning struck two black scars across the word . There were no marks there now, and the word that he had written above had also gone. The page was as clean as if no correction had ever been made.

"I carry", Niranjan whispered. "I carry." And then he burst into tears. Forgive me, Lord, forgive me!

Prema understood. It was He! she cried. And then putting her arm around her weeping husband, she said, He forgave. Clearly, He forgave.

They did not speak again for many hours, but remained in the courtyard too full of wonder and joy to utter anything but the name of the Lord over and over. Not until the sky grew black and the rain started to pour down in thick sheets did they rise and go into the house to partake of the food the Lord had carried to them.

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