FICTION 
Saratchandra Chattopadhyay's Devdas was published in Bengali in 1917.
The 'Devdas metaphor', a time-honoured, enduring tragic symbol of unfulfilled love, has captivated readers and film-going audiences for the better part of a century now. But interest in the original Devdas, Saratchandra Chattopadhyay's piece de resistance, has been rekindled recently in the wake of the Sanjay Leela Bhansali film, which is an adaptation of the Bengali novel. This is a good time to take a fresh look at the novel in translation, and to look at the specific ways in which the Devdas metaphor has engaged our imagination over several generations.
Slowly, a month went by. Kebla grew restless. Chandramukhi too began to wonder if Devdas was in the city at all. Still, she kept at her vigil, prayed fervently and took it one day at a time, always in hope. Nearly one and a half months after her arrival in Calcutta, one night fate smiled on her. It was nearly eleven at night, she was retuning home disconsolately when she suddenly noticed a man sitting by the wayside, in front of a house, and muttering to himself.
Her heart leaped – she knew the voice. She could tell that the voice from a thousand others. It was dark here, and the man lay flat on his face, dead drunk. Chandramukhi went near him and shook him lightly, "Who are you lying here like this?"
The man sang the words, "Hear me friends, I don't have a love, if Krishna were my husband –"
Chandramukhi was certain now. She called, "Devdas?" Without moving a muscle, he answered, "Hmmm?"
"Why are you lying here? Will you go home?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Do you want a drink?"
"Yes," he asked, "Such a good friend – who are you?"
Tears flowed down her cheeks.
Devdas stumbled and lurched and stood up with her support. He stared at her face and said, "Well, well, nice looking face."
Chandramukhi smiled through her tears and said, "Yes, pretty nice, now try to hold on to me and move forward. We need a buggy."
As they walked, Devdas asked in slurred tones, "Hey pretty lady, do you know me?"
Chandramukhi said, "Yes." He leaned against her all the way back home in the buggy. At the door he fished his pocket, "Pretty lady, you may have picked me up, but my pockets are empty."
Chandramukhi quietly dragged him in by the hands, took him to the bedroom and pushed him on to the bed. "Sleep," she said.
Still slurring his words, Devdas said, "Are you up to something? Didn't I just tell you my pockets are empty. It's no use, pretty lady."
The pretty lady knew that. She said, "Pay me tomorrow."
Devdas said, "Such faith – it's not good. Tell me the truth – what do you want?"
Chandramukhi said, "I'll tell you tomorrow," and she went into the next room.
When Devdas awoke it was late morning. The room was empty. Chandramukhi had bathed and gone downstairs to prepare lunch. Devdas looked around – he had never come to this room, he didn't know a single object here. He didn't remember anything of the previous night, except that someone had taken care of him so tenderly. Someone had brought him here lovingly and put him to bed.
Chandramukhi walked into the room. She had changed her earlier attire. She still wore the jewels, but the colourful sari, bindi, and the betel leaf stains on her lips were all gone. She came in wearing an ordinary sari. Devdas looked at her and laughed, "From where did you burgle me in here last night?"
Chandramukhi said, "I didn't steal you away, just picked you up."
Suddenly Devdas grew serious, "Be that as it may. But what is all this with you again? When did you come here? You're fairly glittering with jewellery – who gave you all this?"
Chandramukhi looked at him sharply and said, "Don't." Devdas laughed and said, "All right, I can't even joke about it? When did you come?"
"About one and a half months ago."
Devdas did some calculations in his head and said, "So you came here soon after you went to my house?"
Surprised, Chandramukhi asked, "How did you know I went to Talshonapur?"
Devdas said, "I went back there soon after you left. A maid – the one who escorted you to my sister-in-law – told me; yesterday a woman came here from Ashathjhuri village, she's very beautiful. That said it all. But why did you get all these ornaments made again?"
"I didn't have them made – these are all fake. I bought them here in Calcutta. Just look at the waste though – I spent all this money for your sake. And you didn't even recognize me yesterday when you saw me."
Devdas laughed, "I may not have recognized you, but the caring was familiar. I do remember thinking who could be so caring but for my Chandramukhi?"
She wanted to weep for joy. After a few moments' silence she asked, "Devdas, you don't hate me quite as much now, do you?"
In the afternoon as he prepared for his bath, she noticed a piece of flannel. She asked Devdas about it.
Devdas said, "I get an ache there sometimes. But why are you so scared?"
Chandramukhi struck her brow and said, "Have you gone and ruined yourself – is your liver infected?"
Devdas laughed and said, "Chandramukhi, Perhaps that's what it is."
The same day the doctor came and examined Devdas for a long time. He prescribed some medicines and advised that the utmost care was needed. Or things could come to a fatal pass. They both understood the upshot of this advice. Word was sent home and Dharma arrived; some money was drawn from the bank for the treatment. Two days passed smoothly after this. But on the third day Devdas had fever.
He sent for Chandramukhi and said, "You came at the right moment, or you may have never set eyes on me again."
Chandramukhi wiped her tears and began to tend to him in right earnest. She prayed with folded hands, "God, never in my dreams did I imagine I would come in so handy at such a crucial hour. But please let Devdas get well."
Devdas was bedridden for nearly a month. Then he slowly began to recover. The malady was contained.
One day Devdas said, "Chandramukhi, your name is really long – I can't say it all the time. Shall I shorten it?"
Chandramukhi said, "Sure."
Devdas said, "So from now on I'll call you Bou."
Chandramukhi laughed, "Bou? You mean "wife"? But why?"
"Does everything have to have a reason?"
"No… if that's what you want, go ahead. But won't you tell me why you have this wish?"
"No. Don't ask me the reason."
Chandramukhi nodded, "All right."
Devdas was silent for several minutes. Then he asked gravely, "Tell me, Bou, what am I to you that you are caring for me like this?"
Chandramukhi was neither a bashful, blushing bride, nor a gauche, naive girl; she looked at Devdas serenely and her voice dripped compassion, "You are my everything – don't you know that yet?"
Devdas was staring at the wall. He didn't take his eyes off it as he spoke slowly, "I do, but it doesn't bring much joy. I loved Paro so much she loves me so much – and yet, there was such pain. After that moment I vowed never to set foot in this trap again; and I didn't, at least not by choice. But why did you do this? Why did you get me involved like this?" After a while he said, "Bou, perhaps you will suffer like Paro."
Chandramukhi covered her face and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Devdas continued, "You two are so much unlike each other, but still similar. One proud and naughty, the other gentle and restrained. She has little patience and you are so forbearing. She has a good name, respect, and you live in shame. Everyone loves her, but nobody loves you. But I love you yes, of course I love you." He heaved a great sigh and spoke again, "I do not know what the judge of sin and virtue up above is going to make of you, but if we ever meet after death, I will never be to part from you."
Chandramukhi wept in silence and prayed fervently, "Dear God, if ever in a future life, this sinner is granted pardon, let that be my reward."
A couple of months passed. Devdas was healed, but he wasn't fully recovered. He needed a change of air. The following day he was headed westwards, accompanied by Dharmadas.
Chandramukhi begged, "You will need a maid too, let me come with you."
Devdas said, "Impossible. Whatever I may do, I cannot be so shameless."
Chandramukhi was robbed of speech. She wasn't stupid and she understood him well. Come what may, she could not have a place of pride in the world. She could help Devdas regain his health, she could give him pleasure, but she could never give him respectability. She wiped her tears and asked, "When will I see you again?"
"Can't say. But as long as there's life in me, I will not forget you. I'll always yearn for a sight of you."
Chandramukhi touched his feet and stood aside. Quietly, she said, "That's enough for me; I never wanted more than that."
Before leaving, Devdas gave two thousand rupees to Chandramukhi and said, "Keep this money. You can't trust life and death. I don't want you to be helpless and destitute."
Once again, Chandramukhi got the message. So she held out her hand and took the money. "Just tell me one thing before you go…," she said.
Devdas glanced at her, "What is it?"
Chandramukhi said, "Your sister-in-law told me that you have contracted unmentionable diseases. Is that true?"
Devdas was hurt at that. "I must say that woman is capable of a lot," he said. "Is there anything about me that you aren't aware of? In this respect you know me better than even Paro."
Chandramukhi dashed away her tears and said, "Thank goodness. But still, be careful. You are not in the best of health; don't make any more mistakes and make it worse."
In response Devdas merely smiled.
Chandramukhi said, "Another request – if you feel even a bit unwell, send for me."
Devdas looked into her eyes and said, "I'll do that, Bou."
She touched his feet once more and ran away into the next room.
After leaving Calcutta, Devdas lived in Allahabad for some time. From there he wrote to Chandramukhi, "Bou, I had decided never to love again. For one thing, it is very painful to love and lose, and on top of that, falling in love again would be biggest folly, I think."
But as the days passed, Devdas often wished that Chandramukhi could have been with him. The very next moment he'd back off apprehensively, "Oh no, that won't be good – if Paro ever came to know of it…"
Thus it was Paro one day and Chandramukhi's turn the next, presiding over his heart. Sometimes he had visions of both, side by side, as if he were the closest of friends. In his mind the two had become linked in the strangest of ways. Sometimes, late at night, the thought would come to him that both of them must have fallen asleep. At the very thought that they were unreachable, his heart felt bereft a lifeless discontentment echoed around it in vain.
Thereafter, Devdas traveled to Lahore. Chunilal was working there; he heard of his old friend's arrival and came to meet him. After a long time, Devdas drank again. He thought of Chandramukhi, who had forbidden him to drink. He could see her – ever so bright, so calm and collected; she had so much love for him. Parvati had gone to sleep where he was concerned. She only flared up from time to time, like the wick of a lamp about to go out.
The climate here didn't suit Devdas. He fell ill often and his stomach ached frequently. One day Dharmadas was almost in tears, "Deva, you are falling sick again. Let's go somewhere else."
Devdas answered distractedly, "Let's go."
Usually Devdas didn't drink at home. He did if Chunilal came over, but usually he went out of the house and drank. He came home late at night – and some nights he never came back. For the last two days there had been no sign of him. Weeping, Dharmadas refused to touch food or drink. On the third day Devdas came back home, his body burning with fever. He lay down and couldn't get up again. Three or four doctors came and began to attend to him.
Dharamdas said, "Deva, let me write to Mother in Varanasi –"
Devdas stopped him hastily, "God forbid – how can I stand before Mother in this state?"
Dharamdas protested, "Anybody can fall sick; you shouldn't keep it from your mother in these difficult times. There's nothing to be ashamed of, Deva, let's go to Varanasi."
Devdas turned away, "No Dharmadas, I can't go to her like this. Let me get well, then we'll go and visit her."
For an instant Chandramukhi's name came to Dharmada's lips; but he hated her so much that he couldn't bring himself to utter it.
Devdas also remembered her frequently. But he didn't feel like talking about it. News hadn't been sent out to his mother or to Chandramukhi; naturally, no one came over.
Devdas began to recover slowly over a period of time. One day he sat up in bed and said, "Dharamdas, come on, let's go somewhere else now."
He packed his things, bade Chunilal goodbye and returned to Allahabad; he felt much better now. After some months, he asked, Dharma, "Can't we go to a new place? I have never seen Bombay; shell we go there?"
He was so excited that Dharmadas agreed, though reluctantly. It was the month of May and Bombay wasn't very hot. Devdas recovered some more after arriving there.
Dharmadas asked, "Can we back home now? Devdas said "No, I'm doing fine. I want to stay here for some more time."
A year passed. One morning Devdas came out of a hospital in Bombay, leaning on Dharmadas for support, and got into a buggy. Dharamdas said, "Deva, I suggest we go to Mother."
Devdas' eyes filled with tears; for the last few days, as he lay on the hospital bed, he had thought that he had everything and yet nothing. He had a mother, an elder brother, Paro – and then there was Chandramukhi. He had everyone, but no one had him.
Dharmadas also wept. He asked, "So then Deva, are we going to Mother?"
Devdas looked away and dashed away his tears. "No Dharamadas, I don't feel like going before Mother like this – I don't think the time has come."
The aged Dharmadas howled in misery, "But Deva, your mother is still alive!"
They both understood just how much that statement revealed. Devdas really wasn't doing too well. The dark shadow of pain loomed over his face and his body was all bones. His fingers were repulsive, emaciated and marked by ugly sores.
At the station Dharamadas asked, "I shall buy tickets to go where Deva?"
Devdas considered this carefully and replied, "Let's go home first; the rest can come later."
They bought tickets for Hoonghly and boarded the train.
Dharamdas stayed close to Devdas. Before dusk Devdas' eyes stung and the fever had him in its grip again. He called Dharmadas and said, "Dharma, today I feel as if even getting home will be difficult."
To be continued...
Saratchandra Chattopadhyay's Devdas was published in Bengali in 1917.The 'Devdas metaphor', a time-honoured, enduring tragic symbol of unfulfilled love, has captivated readers and film-going audiences for the better part of a century now. But interest in the original Devdas, Saratchandra Chattopadhyay's piece de resistance, has been rekindled recently in the wake of the Sanjay Leela Bhansali film, which is an adaptation of the Bengali novel. This is a good time to take a fresh look at the novel in translation, and to look at the specific ways in which the Devdas metaphor has engaged our imagination over several generations.
Slowly, a month went by. Kebla grew restless. Chandramukhi too began to wonder if Devdas was in the city at all. Still, she kept at her vigil, prayed fervently and took it one day at a time, always in hope. Nearly one and a half months after her arrival in Calcutta, one night fate smiled on her. It was nearly eleven at night, she was retuning home disconsolately when she suddenly noticed a man sitting by the wayside, in front of a house, and muttering to himself.
Her heart leaped – she knew the voice. She could tell that the voice from a thousand others. It was dark here, and the man lay flat on his face, dead drunk. Chandramukhi went near him and shook him lightly, "Who are you lying here like this?"
The man sang the words, "Hear me friends, I don't have a love, if Krishna were my husband –"
Chandramukhi was certain now. She called, "Devdas?" Without moving a muscle, he answered, "Hmmm?"
"Why are you lying here? Will you go home?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Do you want a drink?"
"Yes," he asked, "Such a good friend – who are you?"
Tears flowed down her cheeks.
Devdas stumbled and lurched and stood up with her support. He stared at her face and said, "Well, well, nice looking face."
Chandramukhi smiled through her tears and said, "Yes, pretty nice, now try to hold on to me and move forward. We need a buggy."
As they walked, Devdas asked in slurred tones, "Hey pretty lady, do you know me?"
Chandramukhi said, "Yes." He leaned against her all the way back home in the buggy. At the door he fished his pocket, "Pretty lady, you may have picked me up, but my pockets are empty."
Chandramukhi quietly dragged him in by the hands, took him to the bedroom and pushed him on to the bed. "Sleep," she said.
Still slurring his words, Devdas said, "Are you up to something? Didn't I just tell you my pockets are empty. It's no use, pretty lady."
The pretty lady knew that. She said, "Pay me tomorrow."
Devdas said, "Such faith – it's not good. Tell me the truth – what do you want?"
Chandramukhi said, "I'll tell you tomorrow," and she went into the next room.
When Devdas awoke it was late morning. The room was empty. Chandramukhi had bathed and gone downstairs to prepare lunch. Devdas looked around – he had never come to this room, he didn't know a single object here. He didn't remember anything of the previous night, except that someone had taken care of him so tenderly. Someone had brought him here lovingly and put him to bed.
Chandramukhi walked into the room. She had changed her earlier attire. She still wore the jewels, but the colourful sari, bindi, and the betel leaf stains on her lips were all gone. She came in wearing an ordinary sari. Devdas looked at her and laughed, "From where did you burgle me in here last night?"
Chandramukhi said, "I didn't steal you away, just picked you up."
Suddenly Devdas grew serious, "Be that as it may. But what is all this with you again? When did you come here? You're fairly glittering with jewellery – who gave you all this?"
Chandramukhi looked at him sharply and said, "Don't." Devdas laughed and said, "All right, I can't even joke about it? When did you come?"
"About one and a half months ago."
Devdas did some calculations in his head and said, "So you came here soon after you went to my house?"
Surprised, Chandramukhi asked, "How did you know I went to Talshonapur?"
Devdas said, "I went back there soon after you left. A maid – the one who escorted you to my sister-in-law – told me; yesterday a woman came here from Ashathjhuri village, she's very beautiful. That said it all. But why did you get all these ornaments made again?"
"I didn't have them made – these are all fake. I bought them here in Calcutta. Just look at the waste though – I spent all this money for your sake. And you didn't even recognize me yesterday when you saw me."
Devdas laughed, "I may not have recognized you, but the caring was familiar. I do remember thinking who could be so caring but for my Chandramukhi?"
She wanted to weep for joy. After a few moments' silence she asked, "Devdas, you don't hate me quite as much now, do you?"
In the afternoon as he prepared for his bath, she noticed a piece of flannel. She asked Devdas about it.
Devdas said, "I get an ache there sometimes. But why are you so scared?"
Chandramukhi struck her brow and said, "Have you gone and ruined yourself – is your liver infected?"
Devdas laughed and said, "Chandramukhi, Perhaps that's what it is."
The same day the doctor came and examined Devdas for a long time. He prescribed some medicines and advised that the utmost care was needed. Or things could come to a fatal pass. They both understood the upshot of this advice. Word was sent home and Dharma arrived; some money was drawn from the bank for the treatment. Two days passed smoothly after this. But on the third day Devdas had fever.
He sent for Chandramukhi and said, "You came at the right moment, or you may have never set eyes on me again."
Chandramukhi wiped her tears and began to tend to him in right earnest. She prayed with folded hands, "God, never in my dreams did I imagine I would come in so handy at such a crucial hour. But please let Devdas get well."
Devdas was bedridden for nearly a month. Then he slowly began to recover. The malady was contained.
One day Devdas said, "Chandramukhi, your name is really long – I can't say it all the time. Shall I shorten it?"
Chandramukhi said, "Sure."
Devdas said, "So from now on I'll call you Bou."
Chandramukhi laughed, "Bou? You mean "wife"? But why?"
"Does everything have to have a reason?"
"No… if that's what you want, go ahead. But won't you tell me why you have this wish?"
"No. Don't ask me the reason."
Chandramukhi nodded, "All right."
Devdas was silent for several minutes. Then he asked gravely, "Tell me, Bou, what am I to you that you are caring for me like this?"
Chandramukhi was neither a bashful, blushing bride, nor a gauche, naive girl; she looked at Devdas serenely and her voice dripped compassion, "You are my everything – don't you know that yet?"
Devdas was staring at the wall. He didn't take his eyes off it as he spoke slowly, "I do, but it doesn't bring much joy. I loved Paro so much she loves me so much – and yet, there was such pain. After that moment I vowed never to set foot in this trap again; and I didn't, at least not by choice. But why did you do this? Why did you get me involved like this?" After a while he said, "Bou, perhaps you will suffer like Paro."
Chandramukhi covered her face and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Devdas continued, "You two are so much unlike each other, but still similar. One proud and naughty, the other gentle and restrained. She has little patience and you are so forbearing. She has a good name, respect, and you live in shame. Everyone loves her, but nobody loves you. But I love you yes, of course I love you." He heaved a great sigh and spoke again, "I do not know what the judge of sin and virtue up above is going to make of you, but if we ever meet after death, I will never be to part from you."
Chandramukhi wept in silence and prayed fervently, "Dear God, if ever in a future life, this sinner is granted pardon, let that be my reward."
A couple of months passed. Devdas was healed, but he wasn't fully recovered. He needed a change of air. The following day he was headed westwards, accompanied by Dharmadas.
Chandramukhi begged, "You will need a maid too, let me come with you."
Devdas said, "Impossible. Whatever I may do, I cannot be so shameless."
Chandramukhi was robbed of speech. She wasn't stupid and she understood him well. Come what may, she could not have a place of pride in the world. She could help Devdas regain his health, she could give him pleasure, but she could never give him respectability. She wiped her tears and asked, "When will I see you again?"
"Can't say. But as long as there's life in me, I will not forget you. I'll always yearn for a sight of you."
Chandramukhi touched his feet and stood aside. Quietly, she said, "That's enough for me; I never wanted more than that."
Before leaving, Devdas gave two thousand rupees to Chandramukhi and said, "Keep this money. You can't trust life and death. I don't want you to be helpless and destitute."
Once again, Chandramukhi got the message. So she held out her hand and took the money. "Just tell me one thing before you go…," she said.
Devdas glanced at her, "What is it?"
Chandramukhi said, "Your sister-in-law told me that you have contracted unmentionable diseases. Is that true?"
Devdas was hurt at that. "I must say that woman is capable of a lot," he said. "Is there anything about me that you aren't aware of? In this respect you know me better than even Paro."
Chandramukhi dashed away her tears and said, "Thank goodness. But still, be careful. You are not in the best of health; don't make any more mistakes and make it worse."
In response Devdas merely smiled.
Chandramukhi said, "Another request – if you feel even a bit unwell, send for me."
Devdas looked into her eyes and said, "I'll do that, Bou."
She touched his feet once more and ran away into the next room.
After leaving Calcutta, Devdas lived in Allahabad for some time. From there he wrote to Chandramukhi, "Bou, I had decided never to love again. For one thing, it is very painful to love and lose, and on top of that, falling in love again would be biggest folly, I think."
But as the days passed, Devdas often wished that Chandramukhi could have been with him. The very next moment he'd back off apprehensively, "Oh no, that won't be good – if Paro ever came to know of it…"
Thus it was Paro one day and Chandramukhi's turn the next, presiding over his heart. Sometimes he had visions of both, side by side, as if he were the closest of friends. In his mind the two had become linked in the strangest of ways. Sometimes, late at night, the thought would come to him that both of them must have fallen asleep. At the very thought that they were unreachable, his heart felt bereft a lifeless discontentment echoed around it in vain.
Thereafter, Devdas traveled to Lahore. Chunilal was working there; he heard of his old friend's arrival and came to meet him. After a long time, Devdas drank again. He thought of Chandramukhi, who had forbidden him to drink. He could see her – ever so bright, so calm and collected; she had so much love for him. Parvati had gone to sleep where he was concerned. She only flared up from time to time, like the wick of a lamp about to go out.
The climate here didn't suit Devdas. He fell ill often and his stomach ached frequently. One day Dharmadas was almost in tears, "Deva, you are falling sick again. Let's go somewhere else."
Devdas answered distractedly, "Let's go."
Usually Devdas didn't drink at home. He did if Chunilal came over, but usually he went out of the house and drank. He came home late at night – and some nights he never came back. For the last two days there had been no sign of him. Weeping, Dharmadas refused to touch food or drink. On the third day Devdas came back home, his body burning with fever. He lay down and couldn't get up again. Three or four doctors came and began to attend to him.
Dharamdas said, "Deva, let me write to Mother in Varanasi –"
Devdas stopped him hastily, "God forbid – how can I stand before Mother in this state?"
Dharamdas protested, "Anybody can fall sick; you shouldn't keep it from your mother in these difficult times. There's nothing to be ashamed of, Deva, let's go to Varanasi."
Devdas turned away, "No Dharmadas, I can't go to her like this. Let me get well, then we'll go and visit her."
For an instant Chandramukhi's name came to Dharmada's lips; but he hated her so much that he couldn't bring himself to utter it.
Devdas also remembered her frequently. But he didn't feel like talking about it. News hadn't been sent out to his mother or to Chandramukhi; naturally, no one came over.
Devdas began to recover slowly over a period of time. One day he sat up in bed and said, "Dharamdas, come on, let's go somewhere else now."
He packed his things, bade Chunilal goodbye and returned to Allahabad; he felt much better now. After some months, he asked, Dharma, "Can't we go to a new place? I have never seen Bombay; shell we go there?"
He was so excited that Dharmadas agreed, though reluctantly. It was the month of May and Bombay wasn't very hot. Devdas recovered some more after arriving there.
Dharmadas asked, "Can we back home now? Devdas said "No, I'm doing fine. I want to stay here for some more time."
A year passed. One morning Devdas came out of a hospital in Bombay, leaning on Dharmadas for support, and got into a buggy. Dharamdas said, "Deva, I suggest we go to Mother."
Devdas' eyes filled with tears; for the last few days, as he lay on the hospital bed, he had thought that he had everything and yet nothing. He had a mother, an elder brother, Paro – and then there was Chandramukhi. He had everyone, but no one had him.
Dharmadas also wept. He asked, "So then Deva, are we going to Mother?"
Devdas looked away and dashed away his tears. "No Dharamadas, I don't feel like going before Mother like this – I don't think the time has come."
The aged Dharmadas howled in misery, "But Deva, your mother is still alive!"
They both understood just how much that statement revealed. Devdas really wasn't doing too well. The dark shadow of pain loomed over his face and his body was all bones. His fingers were repulsive, emaciated and marked by ugly sores.
At the station Dharamadas asked, "I shall buy tickets to go where Deva?"
Devdas considered this carefully and replied, "Let's go home first; the rest can come later."
They bought tickets for Hoonghly and boarded the train.
Dharamdas stayed close to Devdas. Before dusk Devdas' eyes stung and the fever had him in its grip again. He called Dharmadas and said, "Dharma, today I feel as if even getting home will be difficult."
To be continued...
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