Translation of story in english - Revision history

HansaThapliyal at 05:57, 20 May 2009

2009-05-20T05:57:09Z

HansaThapliyal at 03:48, 20 May 2009

2009-05-20T03:48:54Z

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HansaThapliyal at 20:01, 19 May 2009

2009-05-19T20:01:48Z

HansaThapliyal at 19:51, 19 May 2009

2009-05-19T19:51:25Z

HansaThapliyal at 14:12, 19 May 2009

2009-05-19T14:12:34Z

HansaThapliyal at 05:37, 30 March 2009

2009-03-30T05:37:57Z

HansaThapliyal at 04:31, 8 November 2007

2007-11-08T04:31:19Z

HansaThapliyal at 04:25, 8 November 2007

2007-11-08T04:25:13Z

HansaThapliyal at 03:49, 8 November 2007

2007-11-08T03:49:29Z

HansaThapliyal at 18:26, 7 November 2007

2007-11-07T18:26:39Z

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 When those langorous eyes swept over Phulla and past her, in an instant forgetting what they'd seen, Phulla was stung to the quick, she turned her head away from the apparition and looked at the fish-mother instead. The mother's face was craggy, as though the daughter's skin had absorbed all its moisture. If 'Urvashi's' hands were soft and limp, her mothers' had the restlessness of a craftsperson. In colouring this perfect picture that stood next to her, the mother had faded to a dull outline. Her presence was shadowed by a lack, and her face showed a fear of want.
 But her hand was clasped in 'Urvashis''. She wanted the gift of flight from her.
 As Phulla's eyes swam, over the mother's hands, along the daughter's, to that beautiful face, again..a sky rose over the earth inside her, like a minaret over a tower. A thorny  green bush caught fire, and Phulla was singed. Her plump fingers continued to pick white flowers and nothing stirred in her eyes. The girl walked right past her. Still dazed in the trap of fragrance of her flowers and her hair oil, Phulla turned to her own courtyard.

@@ Line 4: / Line 4: @@
 Phulla's veranda, where she sat stringing flowers to make little ornaments for the hair, was situated one third up the length of the stairs. The stairs flowed up like a broad river that thinned in its upper reaches. That morning,the most beautiful fish was making her way up them, gracefully swinging her fin.
-She was young, probably 12 or so. Dark kohl lined her jewel like eyes and shone on a skin whose radiance would pull any onlooker towards her, and at the same time, intimidate him that it pulled. Her long lashes skimmed the stairs as she walked. Soft pebbles of mogra caressed the back of her neck. Her forhead was dusted by a lightly blown  patch of vermillion.
+She was young, probably 12 or so. Dark kohl lined her jewel like eyes and shone on a skin whose radiance would pull any onlooker towards it, and intimidate him that it pulled. Her long lashes skimmed the stairs as she walked. Soft pebbles of mogra caressed the back of her neck. Her forhead was dusted by a lightly blown  patch of vermillion.
-When that langorous gaze swept over Phulla and past her, in an instant forgetting what they had seen, Phulla was stung to the quick, she turned her head away from the apparition and looked at the fish-mother instead. The mother's face was craggy, as though the daughter's skin had absorbed all its moisture. If 'Urvashi's' hands were soft and limp, her mothers' had the restlessness of a craftsperson. In colouring this perfect picture that stood next to her, the mother had faded to a dull outline. Her presence was shadowed by a lack, her face haunted by the fear of that lacking. But her hand was clasped in 'Urvashis''. She wanted the gift of flight from her.
+When those langorous eyes swept over Phulla and past her, in an instant forgetting what they'd seen, Phulla was stung to the quick, she turned her head away from the apparition and looked at the fish-mother instead. The mother's face was craggy, as though the daughter's skin had absorbed all its moisture. If 'Urvashi's' hands were soft and limp, her mothers' had the restlessness of a craftsperson. In colouring this perfect picture that stood next to her, the mother had faded to a dull outline. Her presence was shadowed by a lack, and her face showed a fear of want.
-As Phulla's eyes swam, over the mother's hands, along the daughter's, to that beautiful face, again..a sky rose over the earth inside her, like a minaret over a palace. A thorny bush caught fire, and Phulla was singed. Her plump fingers continued to pick white flowers, nothing stirred in her eyes. The girl walked right past her. Still dazed in the mesh made by the fragrance of her flowers and her hair oil, Phulla turned to look at her own courtyard.
+As Phulla's eyes swam, over the mother's hands, along the daughter's, to that beautiful face, again..a sky rose over the earth inside her, like a minaret over a tower. A thorny  green bush caught fire somewhere, and Phulla was singed. Her plump fingers continued to pick white flowers and nothing stirred in her eyes. The girl walked right past her. Still dazed in the trap of fragrance of her flowers and her hair oil, Phulla turned to her own courtyard.
-Her mother was slowly stoking a fire, very slowly, as if she wanted to be sure that she did not break the sleep that she had gathered to her like a blanket the very day that Phulla took over her work at the stall. This is how it's  always been with flower girls who become mothers of flower girls at this temple.
+Her mother was slowly stoking a fire, very slowly, as if she wanted to be sure that she did not break the sleep that she had gathered to her like a blanket the very day that Phulla took over her work at the stall. This is how it's  always been with flower girl mothers at this temple.
-The wave had passed, the stairs were stone again. A cat with an absolutely upright tale was slowly taking measure of the courtyard. It felt like the evening had emptied the yard of any signs of life. A hollowed cat, a hollowed mother, a hollow yard, over all of which, the evening had settled in a shroud of small grains. The hollowed out legs of Phulla hurt as she carried utensils to the river to wash.
+The wave had passed, the stairs were stone again. A cat with an absolutely upright tale was slowly taking measure of the courtyard. It felt like the evening had emptied the yard of any signs of life. A hollowed cat, a hollowed mother, a hollow yard, over all of which, the evening had settled in a shroud of small grain. The hollowed out legs of Phulla hurt as she carried utensils to the river for a wash.
-The mats were empty. But the katha vachak had started his story in the light of the lamp. Phulla sat on the empty mat with the thought that maybe, by some chance, the story that was told today, would, in some way, be hers'. Her palm was clutching the packet of vermillion she had bought from Azgar's shop.
+--------------
-Dhrinder was resting on his arms  on one of the empty mats and looking up at the sky: clouds were walking over a stunted moon. When Dhurinder shut his eyes he found images falling behind them like coins into a money box. Like broken paintings they fell- the horse at Baroda.. Sir Griffith is standing in a corridor. Just today, in their courtyard, his mother had extended a baby towards him, as though she was saying "Yours". Kamala was standing in the depths behind Ma's large shoulder. Dhurinder's fingers crossed the durrie and began to stroke the sand like it was Kamala..His eyes opened. Baba's face was so white in the light of the lamp.
+The mats were empty. But the katha vachak had started his story in the light of the lamp. Phulla sat on the empty mat with the thought that maybe, by some chance, the story that was told today, would somehow belong to her. Her palm was clutching the packet of vermillion she had bought from Azgar's shop.
 The boatmen of Nasik were on strike again. So Dhurinder had also sat on a pahalwan's shoulder to cross the river. It irritated him. Had he not been carrying all that luggage, he would have swum across. Mid river, Chandu Kaka passed by, letting out sharp giggles from where he sat on the shoulders of one of the pahalwans of the Udaseen Akhara. Ahead of him a woman passenger had completey covered her face with her saree, so that no one recognised her in this shameful posture. Dhurinder kept staring her way- who was she?
@@ Line 23: / Line 26: @@
 Would Kamala laugh?
-The fat girl in front of him was going on shaking something in a small pouch. She looked working class, like she'd taken advantage of the situation and stretched out on the empty mats. All her attention was on her pouch.
+The fat girl in front of him was going on shaking something in a small pouch. She looked working class, like she'd taken advantage of the situation and made herself comfortable on the empty mats. All her attention was directed at the pouch in her lap.
 Truth be told, even Dhurinder was impatient with Baba's telling. His voice was not able to travel the distance of the mats. Had Baba's voice been diminished by this open shore? Dhurinder felt like putting up a Ravi Verma painting on the ghat- and how the crowds would clamour then. He kept staring at his father.
@@ Line 40: / Line 43: @@
+hulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps swam, each movement a stroke measuring the width of the stair it went over. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climbed to where
-Phulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps swam, each movement a stroke measuring the width of the stair it went over. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climbed to where the temple stood like a child's toy in the distance.
+P the temple stood like a child's toy in the distance.
 The river had thrown up an exotic fish today. She must be 11 or 12. The dark line of kohl framed eyes shining with the deep radiance of rare jewels, and highlighted the smoothness of a skin that invited touch, and intimidated it. Soft pebbles of mogra embellished her neck, and on her forhead, a careless powder of sindoor.

@@ Line 3: / Line 3: @@
 That afternoon, Phulla saw the divine Urvashi climb up the temple stairs.
-Phulla's veranda, where she sat stringing flowers to make little ornaments for the hair, was situated one third up the length of the stairs. The stairs flowed up like a broad river that thinned in its upper reaches. And that morning, gracefully swinging her fin, the most beautiful fish had made her way up them.
+Phulla's veranda, where she sat stringing flowers to make little ornaments for the hair, was situated one third up the length of the stairs. The stairs flowed up like a broad river that thinned in its upper reaches. That morning,the most beautiful fish was making her way up them, gracefully swinging her fin.
-She was young, probably 12 or so. Dark kohl lined her jewel like eyes and shone on a skin whose radiance would pull any onlooker towards her, and at the same time, intimidate them. Her long lashes skimmed the stairs as she walked. Soft pebbles of mogra caressed the back of her neck. Her forhead was dusted by a lightly blown  patch of vermillion.
+She was young, probably 12 or so. Dark kohl lined her jewel like eyes and shone on a skin whose radiance would pull any onlooker towards her, and at the same time, intimidate him that it pulled. Her long lashes skimmed the stairs as she walked. Soft pebbles of mogra caressed the back of her neck. Her forhead was dusted by a lightly blown  patch of vermillion.

←Older revision		Revision as of 14:12, 19 May 2009
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−	That afternoon, Phulla saw the divine Urvashi ~~herself~~ climb up the temple stairs.	+	That afternoon, Phulla saw the divine Urvashi climb up the temple stairs.
−
−	Phulla's veranda, where she sat stringing flowers to make little flower-sticks, was one third up the stairs. The stairs flowed up like a broad river that thinned in its upper reaches. And that morning, gracefully swinging her fin, the most beautiful fish had made her way up them.
−	She was young, probably 12 or so. Dark kohl lined her jewel like eyes and shone on a skin whose radiance pulled any onlookers fingers, and intimidated them. Her long lashes skimmed the stairs as she walked. Soft pebbles of mogra flowers caressed her neck, and on her forhead was a lightly blown vermillion dust of sindoor.
−
−	~~When that langorous gaze swept over Phulla and past her in instant forgetting, Phulla's heart was stung~~.

		+	Phulla's veranda, where she sat stringing flowers to make little ornaments for the hair, was situated one third up the length of the stairs. The stairs flowed up like a broad river that thinned in its upper reaches. And that morning, gracefully swinging her fin, the most beautiful fish had made her way up them.
		+	She was young, probably 12 or so. Dark kohl lined her jewel like eyes and shone on a skin whose radiance would pull any onlooker towards her, and at the same time, intimidate them. Her long lashes skimmed the stairs as she walked. Soft pebbles of mogra caressed the back of her neck. Her forhead was dusted by a lightly blown patch of vermillion.

		+	When that langorous gaze swept over Phulla and past her, in an instant forgetting what they had seen, Phulla was stung to the quick, she turned her head away from the apparition and looked at the fish-mother instead. The mother's face was craggy, as though the daughter had absorbed all its moisture. If 'Urvashi's' hands were soft and limp, her mother's had the restlessness of a craftsperson. In colouring this perfect picture that stood next to her, the mother had faded to a dull outline. Her presence was shadowed by a lack, her face haunted by a fear of that lack. But her hand held onto 'Urvashis''. And she wanted the gift of flight from her.

		+	As Phulla's eyes ran, over the mother's hands, along the daughter's, to that beautiful face, again..a desire began to grow in her,

←Older revision		Revision as of 05:37, 30 March 2009
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		+
		+	That afternoon, Phulla saw the divine Urvashi herself climb up the temple stairs.
		+
		+	Phulla's veranda, where she sat stringing flowers to make little flower-sticks, was one third up the stairs. The stairs flowed up like a broad river that thinned in its upper reaches. And that morning, gracefully swinging her fin, the most beautiful fish had made her way up them.
		+	She was young, probably 12 or so. Dark kohl lined her jewel like eyes and shone on a skin whose radiance pulled any onlookers fingers, and intimidated them. Her long lashes skimmed the stairs as she walked. Soft pebbles of mogra flowers caressed her neck, and on her forhead was a lightly blown vermillion dust of sindoor.
		+
		+	When that langorous gaze swept over Phulla and past her in instant forgetting, Phulla's heart was stung.
		+
		+
		+
		+

	Phulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps swam, each movement a stroke measuring the width of the stair it went over. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climbed to where the temple stood like a child's toy in the distance.		Phulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps swam, each movement a stroke measuring the width of the stair it went over. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climbed to where the temple stood like a child's toy in the distance.

@@ Line 4: / Line 4: @@
 The river had thrown up an exotic fish today. She must be 11 or 12. The dark line of kohl framed eyes shining with the deep radiance of rare jewels, and highlighted the smoothness of a skin that invited touch, and intimidated it. Soft pebbles of mogra embellished her neck, and on her forhead, a careless powder of sindoor.
-Sweeping the steps with long lashes, the gaze of that - painting- skimmed over Phulla as it skimmed over everything else, noticing nothing.  The moment of the indifferent passing over  stung Phulla like a caress.  She sharply pulled her own eyes away from that vision, like a mother pulls way her children from the patronising neighbours. The eyes turned away, and still staring, fell on the young girls'- mother? Standing beside her.
+Sweeping the steps with long lashes, the gaze of that - painting- skimmed over Phulla as it skimmed over everything else, noticing nothing.  The moment of the indifferent passing over  stung Phulla like a caress.  She sharply pulled her own eyes away from that vision, like a mother pulls her children from the patronising neighbours. The eyes turned away, and still staring, fell on the young girls'- mother? Standing beside her.
 The evening sun slapped the older woman's face, highlighting its dryness. The supple wetness of feature, so much the lot of the daughter, made it look more parched in contrast. Made you feel as you watched, that there might have been an osmosis. A parasitic drawing out of the water from mother to daughter.

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 Pink nailpolish chemical
-Phulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps swam, each step a stroke measuring the width of step she went over. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climbed to where the temple stood like a child's toy in the distance.
+Phulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps swam, each movement a stroke measuring the width of the stair it went over. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climbed to where the temple stood like a child's toy in the distance.
-The river had thrown up this exotic fish today. She must be 11 or 12. The dark line of kohl framed eyes shining with the radiance of rare jewels, and passed smoothly over skin that invited touch, and intimidated it. Soft pebbles of mogra embellished it, and a careless powder of sindoor.
+The river had thrown up an exotic fish today. She must be 11 or 12. The dark line of kohl framed eyes shining with the deep radiance of rare jewels, and highlighted the smoothness of a skin that invited touch, and intimidated it. Soft pebbles of mogra embellished her neck, and on her forhead, a careless powder of sindoor.
-Sweeping the steps with long eyelashes, the gaze of that princess, that painting, skimmed over Phulla as it skimmed everything else, noticing nothing.  The moment of the indifferent passing over  stung Phulla like a caress.  She sharply pulled her own eyes away from that vision. They fell instead on - her mother? Standing beside her.
+Sweeping the steps with long lashes, the gaze of that - painting- skimmed over Phulla as it skimmed over everything else, noticing nothing.  The moment of the indifferent passing over  stung Phulla like a caress.  She sharply pulled her own eyes away from that vision, like a mother pulls way her children from the patronising neighbours. The eyes turned away, and still staring, fell on the young girls'- mother? Standing beside her.
-The older woman's skin was bare, harsh, like the sun had come out on the faces of the cliffs. The supple wetness of feature, so much the lot of the daughter, made it look more parched in contrast. Made the viewer feel that perhaps there had been an osmosis. A parasitic transfer of water from mother to daughter.
+The evening sun slapped the older woman's face, highlighting its dryness. The supple wetness of feature, so much the lot of the daughter, made it look more parched in contrast. Made you feel as you watched, that there might have been an osmosis. A parasitic drawing out of the water from mother to daughter.
-And it must have gone through the hands.
+If it had indeed taken place, it must have gone through the hands. The daughter's hands were soft and lifeless, the mothers had the restlessness of an engineer. This one project, of making a beauty of her child, seemed to have taken it all out of her. She was spent, and a negative space hung like a frightening aura about her, her face bore the awareness and the fear of that hovering absence.
-While the daughter's hands were soft and lifeless, the mothers had the restlessness of an engineer. This one project, of making a beauty of her child, seemed to have taken it all out of her. She had given more than she could, and a negative space hung like a frightening aura about her, her face bore the awareness and the fear of that hovering absence.
+But her hand was in her daughters' waiting for her Urvashi to soar into the skies, with her..
 When Phulla's  eyes moved , uncontrollable, to the daughter again, she felt a sky rise like a dome inside her. It billowed like a stage cloth and a green thorn bush shoot into flames that singed Phulla as they died.

@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
 Pink nailpolish chemical
-Phulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps seemed to swim over the stairs, each step a stroke measuring the width of stair. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climed to where the temple stood, a child's toy up in the distance.
+Phulla saw the celestial Urvashi herself climb the stairs of the temple that afternoon. She did not climb, her footsteps swam, each step a stroke measuring the width of step she went over. Phulla's verandah was one third up the stairway. The steps flowed past her like a river that thinned as it climbed to where the temple stood like a child's toy in the distance.
-That river had thrown up this exotic fish today. She must be 11 0r 12. That dark line of kohl was soft on the skin that framed eyes shining with the radiance of rare jewels. That skin invited touch, and intimidated it. Soft pebbles of mogra embellished it, and a careless powder of sindoor.
+The river had thrown up this exotic fish today. She must be 11 or 12. The dark line of kohl framed eyes shining with the radiance of rare jewels, and passed smoothly over skin that invited touch, and intimidated it. Soft pebbles of mogra embellished it, and a careless powder of sindoor.
-Sweeping the steps with long eyelashes, that gaze skimmed Phulla as it skimmed everything else, noticing nothing.  The moment of the indifferent passing over  stung Phulla like a caress.  She sharply pulled her own eyes away from that seabird. They fell on - her mother? instead. Standing beside her.
+The older woman's skin was bare, harsh, like the sun had come out on the faces of the cliffs. The supple wetness of feature, so much the lot of the daughter, made it look more parched in contrast. Made the viewer feel that perhaps there had been an osmosis. A parasitic transfer of water from mother to daughter.
-That skine was harsh, like when the sun comes out on the cliffs. The supple wetness of feature, so much the lot of the daughter, made it look more parched in contrast. Made the viewer feel that perhaps there had been an osmosis. A parasitic flowing of water,a delibrate one.
+And it must have gone through the hands.
+While the daughter's hands were soft and lifeless, the mothers had the restlessness of an engineer. This one project, of making a beauty of her child, seemed to have taken it all out of her. She had given more than she could, and a negative space hung like a frightening aura about her, her face bore the awareness and the fear of that hovering absence.
 But her hand was in her daughters' waiting for her Urvashi to take to the skies, with her..
-When Phulla's  eyes moved , uncontrollable, to the daughter again, she felt a sky rise like a temple dome inside her. She felt it billow like a stage cloth and a green thorn bush shoot into flames that singed Phulla as they died.
+When Phulla's  eyes moved , uncontrollable, to the daughter again, she felt a sky rise like a dome inside her. It billowed like a stage cloth and a green thorn bush shoot into flames that singed Phulla as they died.
-Her plump fingers kept plucking at the flowers, her eyes gave nothing away, the Beauty walked past her.  And choking in the strands of her oil and her flowers, Phulla turned to look at her verandah.
+Phulla's plump fingers kept plucking at the flowers, her eyes gave nothing away, the Beauty walked past her.  And choking in the strands of her oil and her flowers, Phulla turned to look at her verandah.
-Her mother was stoking the evening fire, slowly as if in sleep. It was a sleep she had embraced the day her daughter had taken to making garlands and she knew their small house in the temple yard was secure. As way the way of mother of this temple.
+Her mother was slowly stoking the evening fire, as if in sleep. It was a sleep she had embraced the day her daughter had taken to making garlands and she knew their small house in the temple yard was secure. As'' her'' '''Bold text'''mother must have felt before her.
-The wave had passed, the stairs were stone again. A cat, tail erect, was slowly measuring distaces  across the verandah with her paces.  The evening seemed to have emptied the veranda of life. A bird bone mother, hollow stones,  a empty cat, and a evening sticking onto it all.  Phulla's bones ached with the wind inside them as she took the evening vessels to the ghats to wash.
+The wave passed, the stairs were stone again. A cat, tail erect, was slowly measuring distances across the verandah.  Twilight seemed to have emptied the verandah of life. A bird boned mother, moved among hollow stones, an empty cat, and an evening sticking to them all. Phulla's bones ached with the wind inside them as she took the evening vessels to the ghats to wash.
 The mats were deserted today. Empty. But the kathavachak had started his story. Phulla seated herself with a new hope that maybe, today, in this emptiness, the story might be told just for her.  In her hand she clutched the pouch of sindoor that she had got from Azgar.
-Dhurninder was sitting staring at the sky, leaning on his hands making a arch on the mat: clouds were congressing on a stunted moon.  If Dhurinder shut his eyes, a clutter of images fell into the blackness behind his eyes. Like canvases torn at the corners- the horse in Baroda, Sir Griffith in a corridor.
+Dhurninder was sitting staring at the sky, his hands making an arch on the mat: clouds were congressing on a stunted moon.  If Dhurinder shut his eyes, a clutter of images fell into the blackness behind his eyes. Like canvases torn at the corners- the horse in Baroda, Sir Griffith in a corridor.
-And today Aai, extending a baby to him, saying “Yours”. Dhurinder had looked beyond Aai's shoulder to where a small Kamala was standing.
+And today Aai, extending a baby to him, saying “Yours”. Dhurinder had looked beyond Aai's shoulder to where a small woman was standing.
 Dhurinder's fingers felt Kamala's body in the sand and his eyes snapped open. In the distance, across the mats, Baba's face glowed white in the light of the lantern.
-The boatmen of Nasik were on strike, so Dhurinder had also had to sit on a pahalwan's shoulders to cross the water. He had not liked it. If it was not for the luggage, he would have swum across. Mid stream, Chandu Kaka had passed by, rocking on his perch, giggling uncontrollably. Ahead of Dhurinder, a woman had covered her face completely, and then also bent her head, making sure no one recognised her.  Dhurinder  impatiently wondered who the hidden flower  was. Kaki?  His ankle itched to spur his mount like the horse in Baroda, “Hurry”!!
+The boatmen of Nasik were on strike, so Dhurinder had also had to sit on a pahalwan's shoulders to cross the water. He had not liked it. If it was not for the luggage, he would have swum across. That angry river in spate beckoned his muscles. Mid stream, Chandu Kaka had passed by, clutching onto his dhoti, rocking on his perch, giggling obscenely. Ahead of Dhurinder, a woman had covered her face completely, and then also bent her head, making sure no one recognised her.  Dhurinder  was looking at her ankles, they were not very young, there was a firmness to the curve of a long, slightly callused foot, pushing into the pehalwan's chest. Kaki?  His own ankle itched to spur his mount like the horse in Baroda, “Hurry”!!
 He waited twenty minutes on the ghat after reaching, waiting to see who her consort would be. He could tell Kamala about it at night . Would she be amused?