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Updated: July 26, 2025
The young ascetic was walking in the lonely street, while overhead the lovesick koels urged from the mango branches their sleepless plaint. Upagupta passed through the city gates, and stood at the base of the rampart. What woman lay in the shadow of the wall at his feet, struck with the black pestilence, her body spotted with sores, hurriedly driven away from the town?
So, making not the Profession of Faith, and what need, since all her life was worship, the Lady Arjemand turned into his arms like a child. And the night deepened. Morning, with its arrows of golden light that struck the river to splendour! Morning, with its pure breath, its sunshine of joy, and the koels fluting in the Palace gardens! Morning, divine and new from the hand of the Maker!
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