"From afar, as on a wheel of iron, slender[1]
All blue with tamarisks and palms extended,
Outshines the briny oceans' margin yonder,
Like streak of rust-mark with the wheel-rim blended."
The elderly man's ear was not following the poetry but he was listening raptly to the conversation passing among the crew.
"Eh, brother, our folly is looking the bigger" spoke one of the crew to the other "Are we out on the open sea now, or in what corner of the globe the boat has got to, can't understand" The speakers voice had the ring of a great fright. The old man scented some danger ahead and nervously enquired "Boatman, is anything the matter?" The man addresssed to did not answer. But the young blood waited not for the reply. He came out into the bare open and saw the day was dawning. The heavy pall of a thick mist lay over everything. The stars, the moon, the sky, the coast-line were all blotted out. He understood that the crew had lost all directions. They were not certain which way they were steering the boat. They feared they would perish in the boundless open sea.
A screen hung out in front as cold protector and the passengers were quite in the dark about all this. But the young man knew the plight and explained to the old man the whole thing in detail. Then arose a great uproar aboard. Of the female passengers some awoke at the sound of the conversation and no
- ↑ From Robi Dutt. (Mistake in footnote: This verse is actually from Kālidāsa's Raghuvaṃśa; original here.)
