He didn’t like having to work long after the other labourers had gone home, but Singh always found some excuse to keep him back. So that day, he had just got up and left. He’d decided that he wasn’t going to work for him anymore. The other labourers tried to reason with him, saying that he was being unreasonable and foolish – What will you do if not this? If the boss fires us, what will we do? It had fallen on deaf ears. Balesar knew that having two hands was enough for a working man in this world. He quit the farm and decided to sit at home for a few days, but the very next day, the maalik came, imploring him to return. He said, “You know that you’re the most honest and hardworking labourer I have. You also know that all my farms depend on you. You manage the farms from now on. You look after them.” From then on, he was the manager. He wouldn’t have accepted that position if it weren’t for the fact that quitting the farm meant he wouldn’t see Gulabiya as often. Nobody understood what happened to him when he couldn’t see her. This was something only they knew – him and Gulabiya, his Gulabo. That day, Gulabo wafted, dreamlike, through the shabby wooden door of his hut. Is this real? If Gulabiya hadn’t covered his eyes with her hands, he would have continued to look at her for an eternity.She broke the silence. “I hear you’re a manager now? Is this how the high and mighty live? The sheets are on the clothesline, and Manager Babu is on a straw mat on the floor. The stink from the next alley fills your room, and the incense sticks lie in a corner.” She continued to ramble on as she lit an incense stick and put it in a recess in the wall. “I came with Poobari Chachi. She went to meet Kamli Mai, and I snuck out. I’m going to leave now.” And then, as if whisked away by the wind, she was gone.Like a dream, this memory played in his head on a loop. He blinked. It was dawn. He hadn’t slept all night. Thanks to Singh’s constant bullying, he felt less like a manager and more like a bonded labourer. He decided he wasn’t going to be bound anymore. Colour returned to his cheeks as he made this decision. It was as if a weight had lifted from his head. For days, he’d been carrying a mountain around. Just like that, it was gone. Now, his head felt light as a feather. The house that had been closing in on him for a week now smelled of jasmine, no… no… it smelled of roses. In this room that smelled of roses, he thought of his rose – Gulabo. He spread his hands across the sheets as if she were sitting there. She made this bed. This is such a wonderful bed. He didn’t just run his fingers over the sheets; he traced them across Gulabiya’s hands – the same hands that had made this bed. Outside, the birds grew louder. Balesar wrapped the sheets around himself. He didn’t want them to get dirty – and why wouldn’t they? All day, the wind came from Kosi carrying the sand and the dirt, dumping them straight into the house. In a few hours, this entire house would become Kosi Ma’s bed. He started to hum as he got up.Das Kabir jatan se odhi, jas ke tas dhar dini chadaria. He wore it with great care and put it back as it was. He wasn’t going to let the sheets get dirty. Was his love even true if he did? He hung them on the clothesline, but that didn’t feel right. Then he tried the hook on the wall where his shirt hung. He put on the shirt and hung the sheets. Finally, he left the house, the birds, and the wind behind and went towards Kosi. He carefully opened the bamboo gate in front of his house. The feeling rose in his heart that he should visit the river Kosi before sunrise. Ever since becoming Seth Patel Singh’s manager, his life had been so limited. He looked at the birds, now visible in the faint sunlight, flying in the sky, and thought that he, too, was like a bird – free. There was nothing like freedom. Freedom from all bondage. A golden prison with great food is still a prison. It sits on your heart like a weight. A bird likes to fly, and she eats whatever she finds. Everyone likes to be free…From now on, I, too, like a bird, am free.Excerpted with permission from Gulabiya, Abha Purbey, translated from the Angika by Shivangi and Tejaswi Rawal, Hachette India.