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The Triumph of Duty over Affection
A patient, as long as they are ill, does not concern themselves with who is administering their medicine, who is visiting them. Consumed by their own suffering, they are oblivious to others' concerns. But once recovered, they begin to appreciate the care given to them, the efforts and diligence of those who looked after them, and their hearts fill with love and gratitude for them. This was precisely the case with Vrindavan Rani. As long as she was engrossed in her own suffering, she could not perceive Kamala Charan's anxieties and hardships. Doubtless, she spared no effort in his care, but this stemmed from a sense of obligation, not true affection.
However, once the pain subsided, Vrindavan Rani remembered Kamala's devoted service and diligence. A wave of concern washed over her—how could she repay such immense kindness? My duty is to offer comfort and care, but is it right that I, who am benefiting from their service, am now the beneficiary of their life's purpose? I owe them true love and devotion, and I cannot fulfill my obligation! How could I face God? A flower of true love often blooms in response to kindness. Where considerations of beauty, youth, wealth, power, and natural charm are ineffectual in cultivating love, the magic of kindness often prevails. No heart, however hard and unyielding, can remain untouched by genuine acts of service.
Day by day, affection grew between Kamala and Vrindavan Rani. One was a slave to love, the other a servant of duty. It was impossible for a word to escape Vrindavan Rani's lips that Kamala Charan did not fulfill. Now, his zeal and competence were dedicated entirely to her service. His studies were merely a deception to his parents. He was always mindful of appearances and determined to do everything to earn her approval. One day, he saw Madhavi gathering flowers in the flower garden, a small oasis behind the house. But no one in the family loved it, so sadness clung to it all year round. Vrindavan Rani had a deep love for flowers. Observing the garden's neglected state, she asked Madhavi to water the plants occasionally.
Gradually, the garden's condition improved, and blossoms began to emerge on the plants. This was a clear signal for Kamala Charan. He was eager to beautify the garden with his heart and soul. He hired two skilled gardeners. Various beautiful flowers and plants were planted. Different kinds of grasses and leaves adorned the pots, flowerbeds and walkways were neatly arranged. Vines were trained to climb up the walls. Kamala Charan would spend his days wandering the garden, a book in hand, instructing the gardeners on how to improve the garden's design and aesthetics, solely to delight Vrindavan Rani. Whose heart could remain unaffected by such devoted affection?
One day, Kamala said, "Come, I will take you for a stroll in the garden." Vrindavan Rani accompanied him. The moon had risen. In its radiant light, the flowers and leaves shone brilliantly. A gentle breeze stirred. The sweet scents of jasmine and roses filled the air. At that moment, Vrindavan Rani was seen walking amongst the flowerbeds, dressed in a silken sari and beautiful slippers. Her beauty seemed to shame the flowers; she resembled a goddess of flowers. Kamala Charan exclaimed, "Today, my efforts have borne fruit."
As a rose contains a tinge of saffron, Vrindavan Rani's eyes were filled with love. She smiled, but said nothing.
Kamala: "There is no one in the world as fortunate as me."
Vrindavan Rani: "More fortunate than me?"
Kamala was overcome with emotion. He embraced Vrindavan Rani lovingly.
This routine continued daily for a while. Meanwhile, new entertainment emerged. Radha Charan sent Vrindavan Rani a beautiful album of photographs. Some of the pictures were of Chandra, seated, either teaching Shyama or writing a letter. One picture depicted her in male attire. Radha Charan was adept at photography. Vrindavan Rani greatly appreciated the album. Encouraged by this, Kamala decided to take up photography himself. He wrote to his brother, requesting cameras and other necessary equipment, and started practicing. He would leave home, claiming to be going to school, but instead, would spend time at a Parsi photographer's shop. After months of diligent practice, he mastered the art, yet this remained a secret from everyone at home. Vrindavan Rani asked him frequently about his whereabouts throughout the day and on his days off. Kamala Charan would simply brush these questions aside with a "yes".
(...and so on, continuing the story in a similar format...)
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