FullReads

I, with my love fresh and my faith unbroken, have kept to the shelter of my heart’s inner shrine. But my husband has left the cool shade of those things that are ageless and unfading. He is fast disappearing into the barren, waterless waste in his mad thirst for gold.

Sometimes the suspicion comes to me that things not so bad as they seem: that perhaps I exaggerate because I am blind. It may be that, if my eyesight were unimpaired, I should have accepted world as I found it. This, at any rate, was the light in which my husband looked at all my moods and fancies.

One day an old Musalman came to the house. He asked my husband to visit his little grand-daughter. I could hear the old man say: “Baba, I am a poor man; but come with me, and Allah will do you good.” My husband answered coldly: “What Allah will do won’t help matters; I want to know what you can do for me.”

When I heard it, I wondered in my mind why God had not made me deaf as well as blind. The old man heaved a deep sigh, and departed. I sent my maid to fetch him to my room. I met him at the door of the inner apartment, and put some money into his hand.

“Please take this from me,” said I, “for your little grand-daughter, and get a trustworthy doctor to look after her. And-pray for my husband.”

But the whole of that day I could take no food at all. In the afternoon, when my husband got up from sleep, he asked me: “Why do you look so pale?”

I was about to say, as I used to do in the past: “Oh! It’s nothing “; but those days of deception were over, and I spoke to him plainly.

“I have been hesitating,” I said, “for days together to tell you something. It has been hard to think out what exactly it was I wanted to say. Even now I may not be able to explain what I had in my mind. But I am sure you know what has happened. Our lives have drifted apart.”

My husband laughed in a forced manner, and said: “Change is the law of nature.”

I said to him: “I know that. But there are some things that are eternal.”

Then he became serious.

“There are many women,” said he, “who have a real cause for sorrow. There are some whose husbands do not earn money. There are others whose husbands do not love them. But you are making yourself wretched about nothing at all.”

Then it became clear to me that my very blindness had conferred on me the power of seeing a world which is beyond all change. Yes! It is true. I am not like other women. And my husband will never understand me.

IV

Our two lives went on with their dull routine for some time. Then there was a break in the monotony. An aunt of my husband came to pay us a visit.

The first thing she blurted out after our first greeting was this: “Well, Krum, it’s a great pity you have become blind; but why do you impose your own affliction on your husband? You must get him to another wife.”

There was an awkward pause. If my husband had only said something in jest, or laughed in her face, all would have been over. But he stammered and hesitated, and said at last in a nervous, stupid way: “Do you really think so? Really, Aunt, you shouldn’t talk like that”

His aunt appealed to me. “Was I wrong, Kumo?”

I laughed a hollow laugh.

“Had not you better,” said I, “consult some one more competent to decide? The pickpocket never asks permission from the man whose pocket he is going to pick.”