Two days were still left for him to go to the village and Chandramukhi, but he completely forgot. The letter that was smuggled to him by a servant, who disappeared immediately after, was short, simple and written by the hand he knew.
"Dev, I have seen you roaming around the house. My heart is anxious fearing what may happen should we meet, but meet we must! I cannot make my heart stop aching. Please wait for my next letter. I shall inform you of when and where we can meet, so I can calm my heart a bit for a while. Your Paro."
He carried that letter everywhere. Paro! Forever a sore spot. He could heal if she was away, but with her close and Chandramukhi away the wound started to open. Did he still love her? He didn't know. Maybe it would be for the best not to answer to that letter and just go away... run away.... like before. But that was it. He did not want to repeat his past. True enough, there was no sign of her suffering in Kali Babu's house, that he would have to worry about. He could just walk away assured she was alright. But could he just leave her plea pass by?
He was even less sure of what to do as the day passed and the morning of his scheduled departure arrived. Still no second letter. Everything was arguing in him. Maybe he should leave. Just go to Chandramukhi and actually do what he had been preparing for weeks and months now. Then again, Paro only asked for a meeting. What harm could that do?
When Chuni Babu wanted to send him on his way, he was more than surprised when Devdas refused. "Are you ill?" he asked with a worry. "No, I need to settle one more thing." "Do you have to? Chandramukhi has probably showered the road to the house with flower petals so your holy feet won't have to touch the ground." "She will understand." He was sure of that. She always understood. Chuni Babu apparently did not like his decision. He had long ago took himself for a protector of the relationship between his friend and the courtesan. This didn't fit his happy plans. "Are you sure? I could perhaps do this for you," he tried it once again, but Devdas just shook his head. In the evening the second letter arrived, even shorter than the first one.
"Come tommorow morning to the temple of Goddes Durga. I will be anxiously waiting for you. Paro."
She was not waiting. He arrived first, even before dawn, and had to wait for more than an hour, when the sun finally started it's journey through the sky, before he finally saw her stepping inside the temple, followed by two servant girls. He could see them praying with their eyes closed and took the opportunity to inspect Paro, whom he had not seen for nearly two years. She was in mourning. Draped in white, without any jewelery, having nothing but her own beauty to draw attention, and needing nothing more. In the pink rays of the rising sun her face had a soft glow, that only added to her gorgeousness. Oh yes, she was breathtaking. And he could only stare in amazement. There was a time he wanted to own her. Wanted to love and cherish her. And the longer he watched her, the more his memories were overcoming him.
She finally finished her prayer, before the girls and warily looked around. Then her eyes, those beautiful, clear eyes, found him and her face lit up even more. His heart was aching. All this he lost. Her beauty. Her innocence. Her respect. And yet she was here. When the girls beside her finished their prayer she turned to them. He could hear her from afar. "Go home now, but tell the coachmen to return for me. I want to spend some more time in prayers alone." The girls left. And it was now only Paro standing right in front of him.
What do you say in such a moment. When they last parted there were tears in her eyes and agony in his. It was after his father's burial, when she came begging him to mend his ways. To stop drinking. He refused her. And made a certain promise. As she stepped out of the reach of pink sunbeams her saree lost the peachy tone and he noticed that white did not suit her at all. Paro was made of dreams and flowers and butterflies. Of colours. White was not hers to wear at all. But she looked still as beautiful. Her eyes were busy inspecting his appearance for a while, with a surprised, curious look.
