It is of course, more complicated than that. It's religion, it always is. "Self-enlightenment I always found is accomplished that way." This time, where she's standing, she doesn't splash the water on him. Her bare feet where her shoes are left by the river bed sink into the earth. No longer do the anklets chime like bells on her feet where she spoke her morning prayers, praising Mahalakshmi by her husband's side. "Each time you die, you contemplate, and as you lived your life and the lessons that you learned, you are born again into another body - human, animal, plant, anything that has life, they all have something to teach, and so you learn new lessons."

A memory, fond, careful, the water running up her arms as she twists the fabric round and round again. "When my husband passed, he said to me - in the next life, all would be righted. The next time, he would Queen - and I would be Raj." Hard to recall him now, her dying husband, a man she had known since childhood, who she had loved, born a child too, and then lost it all in but a few months.