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“So what does it matter?” his wife replied. “Forty-five or fifty — it is no great age for a man. We are lucky that he is from another village and does not know about her pock-marks and her lack of sense. If we don’t accept this proposal, she may remain unmarried all her life.” “Yes, but I wonder what Bholi will say.” “What will that witless one say? She is like a dumb cow.” “May be you are right,” muttered Ramlal. In the other corner of the courtyard, Bholi lay awake on her cot, listening to her parents’ whispered conversation. Bishamber Nath was a well-to-do grocer. He came with a big party of friends and relations with him for the wedding. A brass-band playing a popular tune from an Indian film headed the procession, with the bridegroom riding a decorated horse. Ramlal was overjoyed to see such pomp and splendour. He had never dreamt that his fourth daughter would have such a grand wedding. Bholi’s elder sisters who had come for the occasion were envious of her luck. When the auspicious moment came the priest said, “Bring the bride.” Bholi, clad in a red silken bridal dress, was led to the bride’s place near the sacred fire. “Garland the bride,” one of his friends prompted Bishamber Nath. The bridegroom lifted the garland of yellow marigolds. A woman slipped back the silken veil from the bride’s face. Bishamber took a quick glance. The garland remained poised in his hands. The bride slowly pulled down the veil over her face. “Have you seen her?” said Bishamber to the friend next to him. “She has pock-marks on her face.” “So what? You are not young either.” “Maybe. But if I am to marry her, her father must give me five thousand rupees.” Ramlal went and placed his turban — his honour — at Bishamber’s feet. “Do not humiliate me so. Take two thousand rupees.” “No. Five thousand, or we go back. Keep your daughter.” “Be a little considerate, please. If you go back, I can never show my face in the village.” “Then out with five thousand.” Tears streaming down his face, Ramlal went in, opened the safe and counted out the notes. He placed the bundle at the bridegroom’s feet. 52 FootprintswithoutFeet Reprint 2026-27