It is long past sunset. She continues to remain at the riverbank, tiring her eyes out in writing to him. Her sakhi (female friend) comes to her rescue, tearing the leaf from her hand in order to see whether anything new may have crept into its contents. The sorrowful Shakuntala raises her head and looks into the distance, in the direction he had taken from her. Her large, infantine eyes are glimmering with the tears of her brave heart. Her thick black hair cascades unkempt down her back; and, unbeknownst to her, the pallu of her saree slides off her torso, symbolic of her profound vulnerability.
A faithful cur sits right next to her, looking across the river. The twin presence of her canine companion and her compassionate friend, infinitesimally comforts the heartbroken Shakuntala. The river flows quietly in the background, as if not to disturb her train of thought, and the sunset skies lend a dark glow to the dense trees and hills.
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