MOON-MADNESS
It was noontime.
Noontime in Bombay.
Nana Lalla fared forth through the town.
The streets were narrow and winding.
They were lined with shops.
Goldsmiths and silversmiths.
Fruit-shops and sweet-shops.
Merchants and money changers.
Before these booths people stopped and stared.
Bargained and bartered.
Went in, or went on.
Great throngs tramped up and down.
To and fro.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Some in flowing robes.
Some in scanty rags.
Dogs trotted at one’s side.
Bullocks pushed at one’s back.
And all the time the sun shone in the sky.
Shone like a ball of fire.
It burned the world with its blazing beams.
Nana Lalla hated the day.
And she loathed the sun.
She did not look to the left.
Nor to the right.
She looked straight before her.
And she went her way.
It was midnight.
Midnight in Bombay.
Nana Lalla was in her room.
She lay on her couch.
Her eyes were open.
But she was dreaming.
Dreaming of sweet-smelling flowers.
And soft-splashing fountains.
And bright-beaming eyes.
Of such things the poets prated.
Of such things the singers sang.
And Nana Lalla had read the poets’ rhymes.
And Nana Lalla had heard the singers’ melodies.
She delighted in these things.
Delighted in them exceedingly.
She tossed and she turned.
She sighed and she sobbed.
And then she arose.
She went to the window.
She looked through the lattice.
The moon shone in the sky.
Shone like a pool of silver.
It bathed the world in liquid light.
Nana Lalla loved the night.
And she worshipped the moon.
Nana Lalla wound a scarf about her body.
Draped a shawl over her head.
And slipped sandals on her feet.
She stole out of her room.
She slipped out of the house.
And once again she fared forth through the town.
Never had Nana Lalla known such a night.
Never had Nana Lalla seen such a moon.
So soft, and so silver.
So gentle, and so gracious.
And yet with all, so—maddening.
Nana Lalla’s eyes sparkled.
Nana Lalla’s hands trembled.
And Nana Lalla’s heart beat high.
Oh, could she only flee away from the city!
Could she only flee away to the country!
Could she only flee away—by the light of the moon!
Or else—could only something happen!
Something strange.
Something sweet.
If only—
Someone stood before her.
Someone spoke to her.
Someone touched her arm.
It was a man.
And yes—his eyes were sparkling too.
His hands were trembling also.
And his heart was beating as wildly as was hers.
She could see.
She could tell.
She could feel.
He and she were alone.
Alone at midnight.
And the moon was shining.
How she loved the moon!
And perhaps he loved it too.
Nana Lalla was not afraid.
Instead, she was full of hope.
He must love the moon—even as did she!
So, when he touched her, she did not shrink away.
When he took her in his arms, she yielded herself.
And when he kissed her—she responded....
The Man always remembered Nana Lalla.
He had loved her.
And he thought that she had loved him.
But Nana Lalla soon forgot the Man.
She had not loved him.
She had only loved—the Moon....
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes:
On page 60, spang has been changed to sprang.
All other spelling has been retained as typeset.