Ai! he cried. He threw his hands up into the air and then
fell full length as if prostrating himself before some unseen
What is it! What
is the matter? Prema asked, frightened now. Beyond doubt he was
Niranjan rose and
looked at her. He was mad, yes, but mad with joy. His face seemed to
shine, and somehow a roundness had come into it.
He tried to speak,
but could only manage the words: It was He;
it was He! like a child who is so bursting with
excitement and wonder that he cannot utter the cause of it.
It was who?
He pointed to the
manuscript and whispered, Look.
Leaning over the
faded leaf, he showed her the passage where he had that morning
struck two black scars across the word . There were no marks there
now, and the word that he had written above had also gone. The page
was as clean as if no correction had ever been made.
carry", Niranjan whispered. "I
carry." And then he burst into tears. Forgive
me, Lord, forgive me!
Prema understood. It
was He! she cried. And then putting her arm around her weeping
husband, she said, He forgave. Clearly, He forgave.
They did not speak
again for many hours, but remained in the courtyard too full of
wonder and joy to utter anything but the name of the Lord over and
over. Not until the sky grew black and the rain started to pour down
in thick sheets did they rise and go into the house to partake of
the food the Lord had carried to them.