Chapter 47

Katyayani was back in the hermitage, but to the dismay of every one, she had returned without Yajnyawalkya. In the falling dusk Maitreyi was waiting with a quivering vigilance.  When she was informed of Katyayani’s arrival, her heart sank with an unknown tremor. She let the disciples rush ahead, and hid herself behind a banyan tree. The rustling of the leaves in the silent hour of the sundown sent a shiver down her spine. What did that hour have in store for all of them? She did not know; for anything and everything that could go wrong, might have gone wrong between Katyayani and Yajnyawalkya in that fateful meeting between them in Videha.

Maitreyi leaned against the trunk of the solid old tree for support. She could now see Katyayani enter the precincts of the hermitage.

And Maitreyi’s heart sank as she realized her misgivings to be true.

Katyayani entered alone, without Yajnyawalkya. Maitreyi regained her composure as Katyayani advanced forward. She was obviously looking for Maitreyi.

Maitreyi could hide herself no longer. She ran towards Katyayani. Her forbearance had reached an end. She threw herself at Katyayani’s feet, clasped her legs and wept bitterly. She would not let go of Katyayani and wept inconsolably like a child deprived of its father.

Katyayani bent down to lift her up and kissed her on the forehead.

…………………..

Maitreyi had calmed down sufficiently by the next morning. Katyayani had not spoken a word about what had transpired between her and Yajnyawalkya back in Videha. The guilt of having failed Maitreyi occupied her for quite some time; however, she felt reassured to see Maitreyi’s calm restored. But the quiet resignation, with which Maitreyi bore the disappointment, touched her deeply. She was waiting for the moment that would break the barrier of silence and let Maitreyi open up. And it seemed that moment would never come. Maitreyi busied herself with the chores, though her heart was not in it.

At noon time Katyayani felt sad. She stopped the work she was doing and followed Maitreyi   everywhere silently, seeking her glance. At last she decided to confront her. Grabbing her by her wrist she led her out of the hermitage to their favourite haunt by the riverside. They sat down under a tree, facing the flow of the river.

“I lost the battle,” said Katyayani.

“Against whom?” asked Maitreyi.

“I did not know who my adversary was!” said Katyayani.

“We lost the battle long ago, for all that matters!” said Maitreyi, staring in the void.

“What do we really want? Yajnyawalkya, our husband; Yajnyawalkya, our son’s father; Yajnyawalkya, the Master of his disciples? Is there a Yajnyawalkya? Were we fighting a myth of our own creation?”

Maitreyi had no answer, and Katyayani did not want one either. Bewilderment, rather than exasperation stared them in the face. Maitreyi wanted to know and yet did not want to ask about Yajnyawalkya. She feared her own knowledge.

Katyayani studied her unobtrusively. Her silence scared her. She always feared Maitreyi’s moments of silence. Truth, knowledge, and one’s own solitary self, are not soothing companions.

They suddenly looked at each other. What they saw in each other’s eyes, could not be translated into words, yet it could be read by both. There was nothing they could say to each other, and nothing that they needed to say. They even refused to touch each other lest the knowledge they shared be articulated

“How long----?” said one of them.

“How long----what?” asked the other.

“I mean, how long  are we  going to sit here, without exchanging a word?” said the one trying to attain normalcy.

They rose and walked back home in silence.