Surja Mukhi loved her husband; did not Kunda love him?
In that little heart there was inexhaustible love, and because it
could find no expression, like obstructed breathing it wounded her
heart. From childhood, before her first marriage, Kunda had loved
Nagendra; she had told no one, no one knew it. She had had no desire
to obtain Nagendra, no hope of doing so; her despair she had borne in
silence. To have striven for it would have been like striving to reach
the moon in the sky. Now where was that moon? For what fault had
Nagendra thrust her from him? Kunda revolved these thoughts in her
mind night and day; night and day she wept. Well! let Nagendra not
love her. It was her good fortune to love him. Why might she not even
see him? Nor that only: he regarded Kunda as the root of his troubles;
every one considered her so. Kunda thought, "Why should I be blamed
for all this?"
In an evil moment Nagendra had married Kunda. As every one who sits
under the upas-tree must die, so every one who had been touched by the
shadow of this marriage was ruined.
Then again Kunda thought, "Surja Mukhi has come to this condition
through me. Surja Mukhi protected me, loved me as a sister; I have
made her a beggar by the roadside.
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