Nature clothes both land and soul - for she is home, hearth and sustenance for all of creation's kin, yet at times she can pose to be the greatest destroyer of all times.
The mist had lifted. Unsullied moonlight covered the sandy bank of the river stretching into the distance like the white garb of a widow. There were no boats on the river, no waves – peace reigned over the water in silence, like the detached calm of death after the suffering wrought by a disease.

When Ramesh recovered his consciousness, he found himself lying on the sand... tired, drained, wounded! It took him some time to recollect what had happened – after which the events crowded his mind like a nightmare. He rose to his feet to discover the fate of his father and other relatives. But not a soul was to be seen.

"Babaaa!" He called out, but none replied back, and he proceeded to walk along the sandy riverbank in search of the others.

This white island situated between two arms of the Padma lay on its back like an unclothed infant. Having walked along the edge of one of the branches, Ramesh had just turned towards the other one when he noticed a red saree, half buried in the clay sand, and running up to it, he came upon the new bride in her red wedding sari, seemingly lifeless.

Ramesh gulped.
He thought for a moment about the name that he had read in his wedding invitation before he called out slowly.

"Sushila.... Sushila..."

The girl remained as lifeless as she was.

Ramesh knew the techniques of resuscitation. He extended her arms upwards and then pressed them down on her stomach, repeating this movement continuously. The girl was hardly breathing, and Ramesh pressed his head with his hands once, before he sank down beside her and touched her cheeks. His new bride was dying, and Ramesh squeezed her cheeks making her part her lips, as he touched her cold lips with his, breathing life into her. It was the first time he had touched a pair of lips with his, and the lifeless inert feeling made his soul cry.
Gradually, the bride began to breathe, and then, eventually opened her eyes.

An exhausted Ramesh sat down for some time in silence. He did not appear to have the energy even to ask her any questions.

The young woman had not regained her consciousness completely. She opened her eyes only to close them the very next moment. Examining her, Ramesh ascertained that there were no further impediments to her breathing. There on that desolate borderline between water and land, between life and death, Ramesh gazed at the young woman’s face for a long time in the pale moonlight.

No one could claim that Sushila was not beautiful. Her tender face with lowered lashes may have appeared small – but still, under this enormous sky and bright moonlight, her beauty and her youth glowed as the only things worth anyone’s attention. She was probably the most beautiful woman that Ramesh had ever come across in his life of twenty three years.

Ramesh mused, "It was just as well that I did not set eyes on her during the crowded confusion of the wedding. I would never have seen her this way anywhere else. By reviving her, I have made her mine in a way that no wedding vows could have accomplished. The rituals would have made her mine by natural right, but now I accept her as a gift from a favourable god."

Regaining her consciousness, the bride had sat up, adjusted her clothes and drew the end of her sari over her head like a cowl.
"Do you know where everyone else on the boat is?" Ramesh asked her.

She shook her head in silence.

"Can you wait here for a while?" Ramesh enquired politely.
"I shall go looking for the others."

The young woman did not answer, but her body seemed to shrink back, imploring him not to leave her side. Ramesh understood. Rising to his feet, he looked around – there was no sign of anyone across the white sand. He called out to his family at the top of his voice, but no one answered.

Giving up his futile efforts, Ramesh sat down again and discovered his wife trying to suppress her sobs with her hands, while her breast heaved. Instead of attempting to console her with words, Ramesh sat close to her, gently stroking her back and her head. She could not contain her tears any more – they began to flow in a wordless torrent. Ramesh began to weep too.

The moon had set by the time their exhausted hearts stopped crying. This desolate part of the earth appeared strangely dreamlike in the darkness. The indistinct whiteness of the sand was a pallid world of ghosts. In the faint light of the stars the river gleamed in places like the lustrous black skin of a serpent.

Taking the tiny hands of the young woman, which were frozen with fear, in his own, Ramesh drew her to himself slowly. The petrified girl did not resist. She was desperate to be close to another human being. Finding shelter against Ramesh’s chest, vibrant with his breath, gave her comfort. This was no time for shyness. She made room for herself in Ramesh’s arms with great eagerness, the regular rhythm of his heartbeat giving her the much needed warmth of life.

As the evening star was about to set at dawn and the sky over the blue line of the river to the east grew pale and then red, it was revealed that Ramesh had lain down on the sand, overcome with sleep, while his newly-wed bride was also fast asleep with her head on his arm, that had wrapped her body in turn. When the soft morning sunlight finally touched their eyes, both of them were startled into wakefulness. They looked around in astonishment for a few minutes before it dawned on them suddenly that they were not at home, that they had been cast adrift, in isolation, and in each other's embrace.