At dawn, when crows call, my silent weeping drowns out even the birds' murmur. Wiping my eyes again and again, I walk to the pond's edge, and as I go to drop my tears into the water, I glimpse my own existence in the newly bloomed water lilies.
The water hyacinths carry me away to a land of imagination. Much later, when I come to my senses, I tap myself on the head and walk slowly home.
The house is filled with the sweet fragrance of sugarcane juice.
But cutting through it all, the hidden tears return again and again, pressing against my chest; I feel as if I'm dying!
Once more, hiding my tears, I go to the kitchen; I see nothing but fire upon fire. How I long to put out all the flames with my tears. Surely tears have far greater power than fire!
Tucking the end of my sari into my waist, I sit down to mix feed for Lali. As I knead the bran with a handful of salt and water, my eyes fall on her. Poor thing, she's chewing straw, and tears are streaming from her eyes too.
A little later, Aunt Nasima also came to the kitchen. "Your wedding will be today!" Saying this, she touched my forehead and cheek and suddenly began crying like a child. I listened, said nothing. I didn't even wipe away my aunt's tears.
Why should I wipe them away? Why hide something so intimate, so peaceful, so utterly trustworthy as tears?