was looking in panic at the people gathering around him, as if he had been caught red-handed You began to run about at three or four, and people who saw you couldn't believe that a human being, created from dust, could be that beautiful. Once when you fell down and cut your forehead, I wore myself out crying. But your father sighed happily, saying, "Whatever God does is always right. The wound on Ranu's forehead has smudged her beauty." But God willed something else. A scar remained, but it looked like the new moon. That same scar which once shone reddish-gold now looks dull and pale, my darling. I sent you to Bibiji to study the Holy Qur'an when you turned five. That was when we discovered that your voice was as beautiful as you were. The voices of the children reciting the holy book used to drift out from inside the walls of Bibiji's house, and yours streamed out apart. Your voice had the peel of silver bells in it It rang so, that even when you had stopped, a tinkling resonated on everywhere When you recited a verse from the Holy Qur'an, passersby in the lane would stop, and flocks of birds would settle on the top of the courtyard wall. Sam Hazrat Shah, the keeper of Sam Dulhe Shahji's shrine, passed through here once, and upon hearing your voice he asked, "Who is the girl^ Her voice has the fluttering of angels' wings in it." When you found out that Sam Hazrat Shah had said this, you were so happy you began to cry. This would also happen often: women brought jugs of water and waited for you to finish chanting. Closing the Holy Qur'an, you would get up and "bless" the jugs, saying, "For the sake of Sam Dulhee Shahji." The women gave this water to their relatives; the sick got well, the bad became good, the irreligious devout I began to think that you were created from divine light. Well, it had always seemed so, but now when you would come back from Bibiji's house, I could no more keep my eyes on your face than I could stare at the sun. After God and the Prophet, you were devoted to Sam Dulhe Shahji. That was why your father once took you to Sam Dulhe Shahji's tomb to pay homage. Oh my sweetheart, you recited the Holy Qur'an so much, that even now when there is silence everywhere, and nothing but the sound of sobbing every now and then, I can hear your voice reciting the sacred verses. Your lips are not moving, but I swear by my own milk, it is your voice. Who else's voice on earth could be this saintly^ When your uncle Din Muhammad's wife came to ask for your hand for her son one day, it dawned on me that you were old enough to marry. Oh, when a daughter starts to cover her head, mothers know that the time is coming soon. But you—how could I even think about iP You never gave me the chance. I mentioned this folly of mine to your father. He said, "Well, you are always so careless, but I am not It's just this—I am afraid of the girl. You must talk to her first. It seems she has given up everything for the sake of God." That was the first time I was afraid of you. I thought that if I mentioned marriage, you would fly into a rage. But on the same evening, one of Hazrat Shah's servants Annual of Urdu Studies, #6 "8