That day I reproached my Creator
because he had not made me surpassingly beautiful--not to steal
any heart away, but because beauty is glory. In this great day
the men of the country should realize its goddess in its
womanhood. But, alas, the eyes of men fail to discern the
goddess, if outward beauty be lacking. Would Sandip Babu find
the __Shakti__ of the Motherland manifest in me? Or would he
simply take me to be an ordinary, domestic woman?
That morning I scented my flowing hair and tied it in a loose
knot, bound by a cunningly intertwined red silk ribbon. Dinner,
you see, was to be served at midday, and there was no time to dry
my hair after my bath and do it up plaited in the ordinary way.
I put on a gold-bordered white __sari__, and my short-sleeve
muslin jacket was also gold-bordered.
I felt that there was a certain restraint about my costume and
that nothing could well have been simpler. But my sister-in-law,
who happened to be passing by, stopped dead before me, surveyed
me from head to foot and with compressed lips smiled a meaning
smile. When I asked her the reason, "I am admiring your get-up!"
she said.
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