traditions which prevailed in our family. It was difficult,
therefore, for us to meet at any hour of the day we pleased. [4]
I knew exactly the time that he could come to me, and therefore
our meeting had all the care of loving preparation. It was like
the rhyming of a poem; it had to come through the path of the
metre.

After finishing the day's work and taking my afternoon bath, I
would do up my hair and renew my vermilion mark and put on my
__sari__, carefully crinkled; and then, bringing back my body
and mind from all distractions of household duties, I would
dedicate it at this special hour, with special ceremonies, to one
individual. That time, each day, with him was short; but it was
infinite.

My husband used to say, that man and wife are equal in love
because of their equal claim on each other. I never argued the
point with him, but my heart said that devotion never stands in
the way of true equality; it only raises the level of the ground
of meeting. Therefore the joy of the higher equality remains
permanent; it never slides down to the vulgar level of triviality.

My beloved, it was worthy of you that you never expected worship
from me. But if you had accepted it, you would have done me a
real service. You showed your love by decorating me, by
educating me, by giving me what I asked for, and what I did not.
I have seen what depth of love there was in your eyes when you
gazed at me. I have known the secret sigh of pain you suppressed
in your love for me. You loved my body as if it were a flower of
paradise. You loved my whole nature as if it had been given you