Something within Mateshwari told her that she would not be returning to the soil of India. As the plane soared up into the skies, for a while her heart went back to the hills and dales of Mussoorie and her life there with Shri Nathji.
Shri Nathji’s verse was ringing in her mind:
Subah tak vo bhi na chhorri toone ai baade sabaa
Raunake bazme Muhabbat thhee jo parvaane ki khaak
O thou morning breeze! Thou didst not even leave to rest
The ashes of the moth, glorying in the gatherings of Love
Mateshwari recollected how she would often sing the verse of Ghalib sometimes in the solitary winter evenings of Mussoorie:
Dil hi to hai na sango khist
Dard se bhar na aaye kyon,
Royenge ham hazaar baar
Koyi hame sataaye kyon.
It is but a heart, not a piece of stone,
That it be not filled with pain,
Weep, I will a thousand times,
Let no one come and disturb me.”
There were also Shri Nathji’s words in English:
They say my verse is sad,
It is so natural, as it spans
The tearful eternity of sorrow,
Not mine, but man’s.
And there was Shri Nathji’s voice:
The Laws of Nature that bring joy, that make flowers bloom, that make the winds carry fragrance, and cause the oceans to deliver pearls on the shores, have also in them the dewdrops that lie on the petals of flowers, tears that stream from the eyes, stars that tremble in the darkness, and waves that dash to pieces against rocks.
“While on the one hand, the air thrills with the sound of haunting melodies and music from a thousand instruments, there are also the terrible clashes of thunder and cries of sorrow and pain.
“Both phases of the scheme of Nature follow a definite pattern in time. If it be right to laugh in joy, then it must also be right to weep in sorrow. If attaining a good thing gives happiness, then losing it must bring sorrow. Such a sorrow is not without meaning. There is the reflection of something beautiful within it, which brings with it a message of the divine.