When the girl was named Subhashini, no one knew that she would be mute. Her two elder sisters were named Sukeshini and Suhasini, so to keep the harmony of the names, her father named his youngest daughter Subhashini. Now everyone calls her Shobha for short."After the customary search and the necessary expenses, the two elder daughters have been married off; now the youngest remains like a silent burden on the hearts of her parents.""People do not always realize that one who does not speak still feels; therefore, in her presence everyone used to express worries about her future. From childhood she had understood that she had been born in her parents' loving home like a curse from fate. As a result, she always tried to hide herself from the common path of society. She thought, 'If everyone forgets me, I shall be saved.' But does anyone ever forget sorrow? In the hearts of her parents she was always awake (ever present).""Especially, her mother regarded her as a kind of personal defect; for a mother sees a daughter as a part of herself—so if a daughter has any imperfection, she feels it as a special cause of shame to herself. On the other hand, her father, Banikantha, seemed to love Subha a little more than his other daughters; but her mother considered her a stain upon her own womb and therefore felt great irritation toward her. Subha had no speech, but she possessed two large black eyes with long lashes; and at the slightest hint of emotion, her lips would tremble like tender young leaves.""When we express our feelings in words, we must do it largely through our own effort—almost like translating; it does not always come out right, and because of our limited ability, mistakes often occur. But black eyes never need translation. The mind itself casts its shadow upon them; feelings sometimes spread over them, sometimes fade away; sometimes they blaze up brightly, sometimes they grow dim like a lamp going out; sometimes they gaze steadily like the setting moon, sometimes they flash in all directions like restless lightning.
For one who from birth has had no other language, the language of the eyes becomes infinitely expressive and deeply touching—like the clear sky, a vast and silent stage of light and shadow. In such a speechless person there exists a lonely grandeur, like that of great nature itself. For this reason ordinary boys and girls felt a kind of fear of her and did not play with her. She was like a silent and companionless noon."The name of the village is Chandipur. The river is a small river of Bangladesh, like a householder's daughter—it does not spread very far. Quietly and tirelessly the river goes on with its work, preserving its own banks; it seems to have some relation or another with everyone in the villages on both sides. Along both banks lie the settlements and the shade of young trees; between the high banks and the lowlands the village goddess, the gentle stream, in self-forgetful and swift steps, with a cheerful heart, flows along performing her countless benevolent tasks."Banikantha's house stands right beside the river. Its bamboo fences, the thatched cowshed, the husking shed, the piles of hay, the tamarind tree, and the groves of mango, jackfruit, and banana all attract attention. The household is prosperous; whether the mute girl is noticed by anyone there, I do not know, but whenever she gets a moment free from work, she comes and sits on the bank of this river.