‘That’s the guilt with which I’ve to learn to live,’ she thought, as she recalled her role in Sathyam’s fall. ‘Was he not a victim of human dishonesty as well, including mine and the inequity of life in general? Are not the Prasads of the world having the cake and eating it too? Do they really, in a way? Why, for all that, I’m no less a beneficiary of deceit, although by default, is it not so? Is it possible that Tara’s life is the radical answer to make it equal to all? But is it really? Well, it appears that life tends to manifest itself only in ironies, doesn’t it? Oh, while I married Sathyam in the hope of becoming a doctor, didn’t he bequeath me a fortune to build a clinic! How fate has taken off at a tangent in my life.’
As if to ease herself from the burden of guilt, she turned her thoughts to the gift of her life - love, ‘Oh, won’t I be shifting to their place tomorrow, to start life afresh as their woman in a live-in. Well, it’s only a matter of time before the world gets used to our arrangement, isn’t it? But would I be content with the menage a trois forever, won’t I want to be Mrs. Roopa Rao at some point of time? Would Sandhya then object to his bigamy? Oh no, never, life in the offing would be thrilling and vibrant, with Saroja too propping it up. God willing, won’t I beget her sibling? How we both crave to have a child of our own. And my degree too would be on hand soon as if to underscore my changed status. Oh, so much pain and as much pleasure, even before I turn twenty-three! But then, that’s life, as Tara said on Sathyam’s death.’
‘Am I not being mean to envision bliss in my condition?’ she felt as her line of thinking perturbed her. ‘Won’t all this amount to coveting life when my man is just dead? What if I renounce the world and turn into a sanyasin? But of what avail is life in a vegetable existence? Besides, won’t my move keep alive the age-old prejudices against young widows that much longer? And what about them, without me, can life ever be the same for them? Moreover, haven’t I led them into believing that I would never desert them, whatever it takes for that?’
Then guided by her innate instincts, she tried to reason her situation all over again, ‘Oh is it fair to expect the living to lead a life of gloom in the shadows of the dead? Doesn’t life impose its own compulsions on the living, regardless of the sentiment to the departed? But then, how can I ever reconcile my own craving for life with the memory of Sathyam? Why, in keeping his memory alive in the Sathyam Memorial Clinic.’