It is at the dead of the night now. Tagore Palace is standing with its graceful presence. Everybody is lost in deep sleep. Darkness intensely reigns everywhere with stony silence. The starry sky above looks innocent with its illuminated smiling doesn’t have any apprehension about something ominous, taking place just at this juncture of time in a room inside the Tagore Palace. The creatures who are staying up far into the night, because of having highly developed smelling organ, perhaps able to feel to understand an occurrence of a tragic self-destruction behind an aristocratic insolence of a royal family.
Kadamvari almost reaches to her last moment of life. Death flashes upon her inward eyes. The opium she has swallowed already reached to every cell of her physical organ system carrying its venom to adhere with the summon of the God of Death. Gradually the ‘Jivan Puspa’ starts losing its fragrance. The colour slowly fades away and is no more to support the beauty of the corolla. The vital power gets defeated by the power of poison. The insatiate spirit of the blossom finally renounces to dwell any more in its earthly nest, abandons it and starts for a journey towards heavenly Eden, living behind all emotion and enthusiasm, love and rejection, impersonal joy and infernal pains and above all the ugly sarcasm and unbearable slandering.