me think of Mother Earth — of vast stretches of farmland and of deep flowing rivers — and at the same time they were full of boundless love and compassion, of fathomless innocence, and of sorrow unassuageable. To this day I have not met a woman with such eyes. They had that quality of timelessness which makes the biggest and the most difficult human problem appear insignificant.
Tai
Eesree wore a
gharara
of taffeta with a gold border; her shirt was of saffron silk embroidered with flowers. And her head was covered with a muslin
duppatta.
She wore gold bracelets on her arms. As she came into the courtyard there was a great commotion. Young brides and aunts, brothers’ wives and their sisters-in-law, mother’s sisters and father’s brother’s wives all ran up to touch her feet. A woman fetched a multi-coloured
peerhi, tai
Eesree smiled and sat down on it. She embraced all the women in turn, put her hand on their heads and blessed them.
And beside them a young girl, Savitri began to wave a hand-fan with great enthusiasm.
Tai
Eesree had brought a coloured wicker basket with her, it lay beside her feet by the
peerhi.
As she blessed each person she took out a four-
anna pice
from the basket and gave one to everybody in turn. She must have given away over a hundred four-
anna pices
in twenty minutes. When all the men and the women, boys, girls, infants had touched her feet and received their four
anna pice, tai
Eesree raised her chin and turned back to look at the girl fanning her. ‘Which one are you?’ she asked.
‘I am Savitri,’ replied the girl shyly.
‘Ai hai,
you are Jai Kishen’s daughter! I had completely forgotten you. Come and embrace me...’
Tai
Eesree took the girl in her arms and kissed her face. By the time she had opened the basket and given the girl a four
anna pice,
all the women were in fits of laughter. Aunt Kartaro flashed her sapphire ring and explained,
‘Tai,
this Savitri is not Jai Kishen’s daughter; she is the daughter of the untouchable Heero.’
‘Hai,
I am ruined!’ wailed
tai
Eesree. She could hardly breathe.
‘Hai,
I will have to wash myself thoroughly. I even kissed her on the face. What am I to do?’
Tai
Eesree turned her bewildered eyes on the untouchable Savitri. The girl began to sob. This made
tai
relent at once. She took the girl in her arms again. ‘No, child, you mustn’t cry! You are quite innocent; you are as pure as a goddess, a virgin goddess. God Himself lives in your undefiled little body. You should not cry. I have to wash because my religion says I must. No more tears. Here’s another four
annas
for you...’
Tai
Eesree gave the girl a second four-
anna pice,
and the untouchable Savitri wiped her tears and began to smile.
Tai
Eesree then raised her arm to beckon. ‘Heeroo! Warm water for my bath. You too will get four
annas
.’ The crowd in the courtyard was convulsed with laughter.
Many people called
Tai
Eesree the four-
anna
aunty; others called her the sponsor aunty. It was well-known that from the day elder uncle Bodh Raj had married
tai
Eesree to the present time, their marriage had not been consummated. Scandalmongers even said that before his marriage, young Bodh Raj had so many affairs with beautiful, sophisticated women that when he found himself wedded to a simple peasant-girl he took an instant dislike to her and left her strictly alone. He did not maltreat her in any way; he sent her Rs. 75 every month; and she lived with her in-laws in the village and served everyone who came. Uncle Bodh Raj had an iron-monger’s business in Jullundur and often it was many years before he went to his village. Eesree’s parents tried several times to persuade her to come home, but she refused. Her parents even wanted to arrange another marriage of her, but
tai
would not hear of it. She looked after her husband’s parents so well that they began to cherish her more than they could have their own daughter. Uncle Bodh Raj’s father, Malik Chand handed
Tai
Eesree wore a
gharara
of taffeta with a gold border; her shirt was of saffron silk embroidered with flowers. And her head was covered with a muslin
duppatta.
She wore gold bracelets on her arms. As she came into the courtyard there was a great commotion. Young brides and aunts, brothers’ wives and their sisters-in-law, mother’s sisters and father’s brother’s wives all ran up to touch her feet. A woman fetched a multi-coloured
peerhi, tai
Eesree smiled and sat down on it. She embraced all the women in turn, put her hand on their heads and blessed them.
And beside them a young girl, Savitri began to wave a hand-fan with great enthusiasm.
Tai
Eesree had brought a coloured wicker basket with her, it lay beside her feet by the
peerhi.
As she blessed each person she took out a four-
anna pice
from the basket and gave one to everybody in turn. She must have given away over a hundred four-
anna pices
in twenty minutes. When all the men and the women, boys, girls, infants had touched her feet and received their four
anna pice, tai
Eesree raised her chin and turned back to look at the girl fanning her. ‘Which one are you?’ she asked.
‘I am Savitri,’ replied the girl shyly.
‘Ai hai,
you are Jai Kishen’s daughter! I had completely forgotten you. Come and embrace me...’
Tai
Eesree took the girl in her arms and kissed her face. By the time she had opened the basket and given the girl a four
anna pice,
all the women were in fits of laughter. Aunt Kartaro flashed her sapphire ring and explained,
‘Tai,
this Savitri is not Jai Kishen’s daughter; she is the daughter of the untouchable Heero.’
‘Hai,
I am ruined!’ wailed
tai
Eesree. She could hardly breathe.
‘Hai,
I will have to wash myself thoroughly. I even kissed her on the face. What am I to do?’
Tai
Eesree turned her bewildered eyes on the untouchable Savitri. The girl began to sob. This made
tai
relent at once. She took the girl in her arms again. ‘No, child, you mustn’t cry! You are quite innocent; you are as pure as a goddess, a virgin goddess. God Himself lives in your undefiled little body. You should not cry. I have to wash because my religion says I must. No more tears. Here’s another four
annas
for you...’
Tai
Eesree gave the girl a second four-
anna pice,
and the untouchable Savitri wiped her tears and began to smile.
Tai
Eesree then raised her arm to beckon. ‘Heeroo! Warm water for my bath. You too will get four
annas
.’ The crowd in the courtyard was convulsed with laughter.
Many people called
Tai
Eesree the four-
anna
aunty; others called her the sponsor aunty. It was well-known that from the day elder uncle Bodh Raj had married
tai
Eesree to the present time, their marriage had not been consummated. Scandalmongers even said that before his marriage, young Bodh Raj had so many affairs with beautiful, sophisticated women that when he found himself wedded to a simple peasant-girl he took an instant dislike to her and left her strictly alone. He did not maltreat her in any way; he sent her Rs. 75 every month; and she lived with her in-laws in the village and served everyone who came. Uncle Bodh Raj had an iron-monger’s business in Jullundur and often it was many years before he went to his village. Eesree’s parents tried several times to persuade her to come home, but she refused. Her parents even wanted to arrange another marriage of her, but
tai
would not hear of it. She looked after her husband’s parents so well that they began to cherish her more than they could have their own daughter. Uncle Bodh Raj’s father, Malik Chand handed
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