66697602-The-Ramayana-R-K-Narayan

Observing the sudden change in her, and the sudden
drooping and withering of her whole being, even the bangles
on her wrist slipping down, her attendants took her away and
spread a soft bed for her to lie on.
She lay tossing in her bed complaining, “You girls have
forgotten how to make a soft bed. You are all out to tease
me.” Her maids in attendance had never seen her in such a
mood. They were bewildered and amused at first, but later
became genuinely concerned, when they noticed tears
streaming down her cheeks. They found her prattling
involuntarily, “Shoulders of emerald, eyes like lotus petals,
who is he? He invaded my heart and has deprived me of all
shame! A robber who could ensnare my heart and snatch
away my peace of mind! Broad-shouldered, but walked off
so swiftly. Why could he not have halted his steps, so that I
might have gained just one more glimpse and quelled this
riotous heart of mine? He was here, he was there next
second, and gone forever. He could not be a god—his
eyelids flickered… . Or was he a sorcerer casting a spell on
people?”
The sun set beyond the sea, so says the poet—and when
a poet mentions a sea, we have to accept it. No harm in
letting a poet describe his vision, no need to question his
geography. The cry of birds settling down for the night and
the sound of waves on the seashore became clearer as the
evening advanced into dusk and night. A cool breeze blew