The Sound of the Kiss

Listen, King Krishna, of unbroken glory. Your wealth, which nourishes all scholars, outshines the richest in the world. Your greatest joy is in comforting those who come to you in need.

For two full years Alaghuvrata chanted the mantra of the World Goddess. The Lion-Rider spoke to him: “Brahmin! Your desire will be fulfilled elsewhere.” Instantly he was hurled by a great wind into a royal court in the middle of a city in a faraway country. Because of the violent disturbance, he sat there for a short time with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he looked around and saw a group of courtiers, rather surprised at the way he had dropped in. Right in front of him was an impressive king, radiant as the king of the gods. Before the king a sweet baby girl lay in her baby clothes, in a golden cradle. The Brahmin was still for a moment, overcome by surprise. Then he quickly got up, blessed the king, and presented him with the jeweled necklace that he had received from Manikandhara. The king received the gift with respect and asked the Brahmin to sit near him. He asked him only his name and that of his family. “Your arrival here is quite unusual,” he said, “but you can tell us about it later. For now, just rest yourself quietly. Any gifts I receive today go to this girl.” So he had the necklace put on the baby’s neck.

The baby moved her head to get a look at the necklace, with her chin pressing down against her neck. With light playing on her soft cheeks, she smiled, as if there were something she knew. Suddenly, she began to speak. “After two long years, I now see this necklace again. My luck has come to fruition.”

What can I, a mere poet, say? Everybody there was stunned and stood like pictures painted on a wall.

The king thought to himself, “These words are amazing. The child must be a goddess, born for some special reason. Let’s get her to talk some more.” He asked her, “Wonder girl—you were born only two months ago, and you’re already talking. Where did you see this necklace two years ago?”

The king looked at the baby. “You’re no ordinary human child. My heart is eager to learn all about you. What were your previous lives? Why were you born now?”

She thought through her previous life and the one before that and all the memories related to them. They were all fresh in her mind. She spoke, as they listened in total silence.

“In two lives before this one, I was a pet parrot of the goddess of speech. Because of a curse, I had to be reborn. I’ll tell you all about it. The story is a new one, utterly unlike anything told before, and compelling in its beauty; if you listen to it, you will live long in health and wealth. At last I can tell it.

“One day while I was living in the palace of the goddess, her husband, Brahma, took her out to the lakeshore garden. Both dressed in gold, their bodies oiled and perfumed, radiating a new kind of brilliance, they sat to the east of the lake, with its golden steps leading down to the water. In the middle of the lake stood a crystal pillar inlaid with sculpted geese. Brahma lay down facing the lake on a bed of flowers in the shadow of the wishing trees. The goddess took his feet onto her lap to massage them. Desire flooded him, and he pulled her to the bed, each of his four faces trying at once to pull her face to itself, trying to kiss her.

“Smiling at his games, she said, ‘Enough of your pranks. It isn’t fair. If all four of your faces want me at the same time, what am I supposed to do? I’m a one-faced woman. Cut it out. It’s too much.’ She stiffened her neck and pulled her face back. Guarding her lips with her hand, she curved her eyebrows and gave him a sharp look, in a pose of charming anger. This excited him even more.

“Brahma bent her face forcibly to his, pushed her hand away from her lips, and bit her slightly. As pleasure awoke inside her, a soft moan of enchantment slipped from her throat.

“The goddess of speech tried to cover up the moment of ecstasy that had overpowered her deep inside. She was a little embarrassed. Looking for a way to get through it quietly, she pretended her lower lip was hurting, and she turned around, as if angry, to prevent him from provoking her further. I, watching from my cage, understood her feelings from her body language. She was pressing her thighs tightly together and closing her eyes. It was a textbook case.

“Brahma, thwarted, having lost the initiative, put on a show of anger. Not wanting to reveal his real feelings, he turned to me in my golden cage hanging from a nearby tree. ‘My little parrot,’ he said, ‘I’m bored. Won’t you tell me a story?’

“‘How can I tell you a story? You’re God. I’ll listen if you tell one.’

“‘In that case, listen,’ he said. ‘Once upon a time, there was a city called Kasarapura. A rich place, ruled by a king called Kalapurna. He conquered all other kings by virtue of his incomparable brilliance. When he had come of age, a certain Siddha called Svabhava gave him a unique gem, a splendid bow, and gleaming arrows. The gem was of a deep red color, the arrows inexhaustible, and the bow could win over the god of love himself. Because the giver was so noble, the king carried these gifts constantly. A certain king, called Madasaya, happened to enter the kingdom with his wife, Rupanubhuti, and his minister, Dhirabhava, to show off his strength. Skillfully using his bow, Kalapurna drove out Dhirabhava. Madasaya and his wife surrendered, and the king made them his slaves. They followed his command and performed menial tasks.’

“Sarada, the goddess of art, was listening to the story with finely attuned ears, her eyebrows dancing over her darting eyes. She said to me, ‘Ask him what happened to this Kalapurna. Who were his father and mother?’ She taught me to say all this, and I asked these questions.

“God said, ‘A woman called Abhinavakaumudi fell in love with him and married him. His father was a lady called Sumukhasatti and his mother was a gentleman called Manistambha.’

“The goddess laughed and hugged him. ‘Relax. Your story is all upside down.’ She patted him on the back. ‘A male mother and a female father? That’s what their names imply.’¹ She couldn’t stop laughing. ‘Tell me more, my dear husband.’

“Brahma, overjoyed and encouraged, hugged her back. With his four faces, one by one, he kissed her, drinking at her lips, twisting his neck into position over and over and stroking her cheeks and neck. One of his faces bit her a little hard, and she showed anger. ‘You never know when to stop,’ she said. ‘Enough of this. Tell me what happened to the hero of your story.’ She wriggled out of his embrace and, raising her arms, took hold of all his faces in her two hands.

“He could see her breasts clearly now, and also the curves of her waist. Getting excited, he kissed her again. ‘I know you’re good at this,’ she said, ‘but go on with your story. What happened to the king?’

“So he continued. ‘What could have happened? He had a minister named Satvadatma, who crowned him ruler of the city Kramukakanthottara in Angadesa. He reigned happily there, rich in splendor. Madasaya built a golden wall around that city, and the king was pleased. While Madasaya and his wife, Rupanubhuti, were serving him without pause, they had a daughter named Madhuralalasa, born because they kept staring at the king’s special jewel. Four wise Brahmin advisors² to Madasaya—Agama One, Agama Two, Agama Three, Agama Four—came there and, each in turn, held the jewel. Touching it brought them immense joy. The king allowed all this to happen, because they were all under his control and because he made the rules.

“But one of the advisors mischievously pressed too hard on the jewel, and this made Kalapurna angry. He threw out all four of them, and because of their fault, he also had the golden wall built by their lord, Madasaya, dismantled. Madasaya said to himself, ‘What difference does it make? I’m still his man. I’ll live somewhere else in his country.’ He took his family and traveled south from Kramukakanthottara City. Immediately he came upon two golden pots of surpassing beauty; admiring them, he went to the Middle Country, where he stayed for some time. He hardly noticed that his young daughter, Madhuralalasa, had grown thin from the stress of the journey. People who are intent upon higher comforts they will attain in the future often don’t even notice the pain that others in their family may be feeling in the present.

“Still, something in him made him go back to the city. Maybe it was the girl’s good fortune. As soon as she caught sight of Kalapurna, she recovered her vigor, her weakness gone. Her body glowed. Madasaya brought her to Kalapurna and told him the secret of her recovery. ‘Only you have this kind of power,’ he said to the king. They lived happily, praising him. The four advisors also returned, and this time the king favored them.

“From then on, my dear, Madhuralalasa grew into a fine young girl and enjoyed the full fruits of her youth in the company of the king.”

“The goddess listened. She knit her brows in feigned displeasure that barely concealed the gentle smile arising from her endless love. ‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘You’re really something, aren’t you? I know you can put together entire worlds, but do you have to practise the craft of words on me?’

“‘I’ve known you for a long time. You think I can’t see through your story? After all, I taught you to speak with hidden meanings and moods. This story you told is about us. I listened quietly because I wondered how you would end it. I’ll tell you what it means. Just listen. Kasarapura is the lake. Kāsāra means “lake.” Because my face reflected in the water looks like a full moon, you spoke of King Kalapurna, whose name means “full moon.” When you said he conquered all other kings by virtue of his incomparable brilliance, what you meant is that the reflection of my face outshines every other face. As usual, you were exaggerating. It’s what they call “hyperbole.” That’s all very clear. Then there is that Siddha, Svabhava, who gave him a bow and arrows and a red jewel. Since svabhāva means “one’s own nature,” anybody can see that you were referring to my eyebrows, my sharp looks, and my naturally red lips. Then you mentioned a Madasaya, his wife, Rupanubhuti, and his minister, Dhirabhava—that is, My Heart, Love of Beauty, and Sense of Pride. And you said that Kalapurna, the Full Moon, defeated Dhirabhava, your Sense of Pride, with his bow and made Madasaya, My Heart, that is, your heart, and Rupanubhuti, your Love of Beauty, into slaves. In other words, when you looked at the reflection of my face in the lake, you lost your sense of pride, and your heart and your love of beauty were totally drawn to me.

“‘That was when I smiled. My smile was reflected in the water, and to you it looked like a thin layer of moonlight. So you made the identification explicit and named it Abhinavakaumudi, New Moonlight. Since this is a noun in the feminine gender, you gave it to a woman for her name and married her off to Kalapurna. And when you said that Kalapurna’s mother was a gentleman called Manistambha and his father was a lady named Sumukhasatti, what you meant was that the reflection off the crystal pillar, maṇistambha (a masculine noun), was caused by the proximity, āsatti (a feminine noun), of my lovely face, sumukha, to that pillar. For some reason you slipped and inverted the genders of the father and the mother, and this made me laugh so hard that I turned back to face you. I was also curious to hear more. So the reflection disappeared from the lake, and my face was in front of you. My face happens to be on top of my neck, so you had to say that Kalapurna, the Full Moon, was crowned in Kramukakanthottara City, that is, Beyond-the-Smooth-Neck Town, in Angadesa, Body Land. Since I’m the owner of that country, you had Kalapurna crowned there by a minister named Satvadatma, Close to Yourself, that is, Myself. The name means someone closely connected to “you,” that is, me.

“‘At that point you hugged me. Because your heart drove you to it, and because your arms glow like gold, you described this event as Madasaya, My Heart, building a golden wall around Beyond-the-Smooth-Neck Town. Now that your heart and your eyes were locked on to my face, an incessant desire for my lower lip was born in you. What you said was that My Heart and his wife, Love of Beauty, gave birth to a daughter, Madhuralalasa, Craving for Sweetness, through the power of that red jewel. When you said that the four advisors of Madasaya became happy when they touched the jewel, that was a way of saying that your four faces kissed my lips as soon as that craving was born. And since your four faces are the sources of the four Vedas—Rig, Yajus, Sama, and Atharvana—and since they are under your control, you called them Agamas, that is Vedas, One to Four, the Brahmin advisors of Madasaya.

“‘Just then, as you may recall, I was mad because one of your faces was biting my lips too hard, and I released myself from your embrace. In your narration this turns up as the Brahmin who pressed so hard against the jewel that Kalapurna got angry, drove all of them away, and had the golden wall dismantled. Your eyes and your heart now shifted away from my face toward the parts of my body that were exposed once I pried myself away from the hug. That is, Madasaya and his wife left Kalapurna’s service and went down to Body Land. You also said that on their way down they saw the good omen of two golden pots, and that they were so entranced that they stayed a while in the Middle Country. Isn’t this a way of saying that you were excited by seeing my breasts and lingered a while over the curves of my waist? Now that your desire to kiss me waned a little, you said that Craving for Sweetness lost weight. But soon you turned your eyes and your heart back to my face, and your desire to kiss me intensified and was fulfilled when you did kiss me. These three events were described, respectively, as the return of Madasaya with his wife and child to Kalapurna’s service, the consequent recovery of Craving for Sweetness, and her marriage to Kalapurna when she came of age.

“‘You have a very artful way of telling the tale of a man’s desire. Tell me if I’m right.’

“She admired his truthfulness. ‘You never lie even when you’re joking,’ she said, and blessed him: ‘May the lotus growing from Vishnu’s navel, that gave birth to you, stay cool forever.’³

The girl concluded the story that Brahma had privately told Sarasvati, in the words of the parrot. The audience was riveted.

“Maybe because the god and the goddess were so absorbed in themselves, or maybe because they thought I was only an animal and therefore ignored me, I“—the parrot⁴ continued—” was able to overhear all this. I was afraid to leave in the middle.

But then I hopped

out of my cage, and

inch by inch

I moved away.

‘My God!’ she said,

‘the parrot’s here.

We didn’t see.’

A little upset.

‘So what?’ God said,

laughing it off.

‘So what if she heard?’

Some days passed. One day Rambha came along with Indra, who was paying a visit to Brahma. She went into the inner palace to see Sarasvati. Passing through several doors, she came upon me in my cage. I was practicing for my own pleasure (as I had been for some time) that special moan of love that came out of the goddess of words.

“‘That’s very interesting,’ said Rambha, coming close to me. ‘Is this what the goddess does when she’s with God?’

“I told her everything, holding nothing back—how that sound emerged, and the story that came after it. She wouldn’t let me stop. She kept coaxing more out of me. You can teach a lot to a parrot, but it never becomes wise.

“I finished telling the story, and then she asked me to repeat the special sound. I did it, two or three times. That’s when the goddess saw us.

“She knit her brows as she looked at me. ‘So you’re telling stories, you idiot bird. We didn’t notice. You’re a blabbermouth, gabbing away. Are you crazy? Get out of here. Go live on earth as a whore.’ She was very angry, so it was a heavy curse.

“As soon as Rambha heard the furious voice of the goddess, she hid herself behind a big jeweled pillar. She was terrified.

“Brahma came. Gently he asked, ‘I’ve never heard you speak so angrily. What happened?’

“She smiled a smile that added to the charm of her anger. ‘Have you heard what this parrot has been saying? It’s telling Rambha everything that we said to each other in the lakeside garden, from beginning to end. I heard it myself from behind the door.’

“‘What does it know? It’s a parrot. How can you curse it so mercilessly?’ He looked at me kindly. I was feeling devastated by that curse, I can tell you. ‘Nobody can say no to a mother’s curse,’ said Brahma. ‘But don’t feel sad. You’ll go through it and then, in one life after that one, you will be born as Madhuralalasa, the daughter of a king named Madasaya. You’ll marry a king called Kalapurna and live a life of incomparable wealth and joy with natural, inborn faithfulness to your husband. You’ll do whatever is right, and you’ll be fulfilled.’

“‘What is this?’ intervened the goddess. ‘Those same names—Madasaya, Madhuralalasa, Kalapurna—you’re still talking about them. Or dreaming about them. Wake up.’ She laughed.

“‘I’m always dreaming about everything connected to your lovely face,’ said God. ‘But this is no dream. There is going to be a king called Kalapurna—on earth. And this bird will be his wife.’

“‘Dear—it’s not a new story. It’s the same old story you already heard. All the names, nouns, verbs, words, sentences, and meanings that are lexically present in that story also exist in this one. All you have to do is to convert all the past-tense verbs into future tense: for example, “was” becomes “will be,” “did” becomes “will do,” and so on. That’s the only difference. By the way, I like your smile.

“‘Incidentally, the story will expand a little into branch-stories, depending on the listeners and the context. But the main story is what you already know.’

“Sarasvati was astonished and thought a little. ‘But you said that this king will have a man for his mother and a woman for his father?’

“This astonished her even more. ‘You’re the Creator. You can do whatever you like, and you do do what you like. But don’t make me a party to your lies. And don’t even think of linking what you’re doing with the story that came out of our kiss, not even in your wildest dreams. Down there, if you just scratch the surface, a flood bursts out. This was a story we told each other very privately. It was born right here. You couldn’t leave it at that. Now you’ve made it happen on earth. People will say, “This all came from Brahma to begin with.” They’ll wonder what the reason was and someone will say, “It was the reflection of Sarasvati’s face in the lake.” Then they’ll say, “This particular incident caused all the rest.” I’ll be a laughingstock all over the world, and all because of you. I beg you: Don’t mention this to anyone. If you don’t talk, we can still keep it quiet.’

“‘You’re just saying that,’ Brahma replied. ‘Is there anyone who doesn’t want to be known as a good lover? If you really mean what you say, touch your nose with your tongue, and I’ll believe you.’ She burst into laughter.

“With an effort she held it in. ‘No matter what you say, I don’t like it. It isn’t funny. Stop laughing.’ She hit him with the bunch of flowers she was holding, big as her breasts.

“As you can see,” the parrot continued, “Brahma was insistent, while she was begging him to stop even as she clung to his neck, cheek to cheek, with his chin in her hand and her breasts rubbing against his chest.

“He said, ‘Why are you so persistent? Whatever you say, I know you really want this story to become known. Tell me, don’t you want people everywhere to know this wonderful tale? How else will you become famous?

“‘Come to think of it, everything is known only through language. And all language is you. This being the case, nothing you disapprove of can ever see the light of day. That story of Kalapurna that came out of your love-game and that was born from my lips is going to be famous all over the world. You can’t tell me you don’t want this. Of course, I can understand what you say. That’s how women are. They like everybody to know how their husbands love them, but they don’t want to tell it all themselves.’

“The goddess looked at him. ‘If you’re so intent on having your way, why should I object? Anyway, that king is certainly going to be born on earth. He will rule the kingdom. His story will anyway become famous. This much is given. But why should my story become known along with his?’

“‘In that case, I have to see to the channels through which it will be known. But don’t you talk about it anywhere.’

“Then the goddess looked at me. ‘This parrot is going to be born as a whore. There’s no question of her remembering any of this. But where is that woman Rambha? We have to teach her a lesson.’

“Rambha emerged, trembling, from behind the pillar and fell at the goddess’s feet.

“‘Get up,’ said Sarasvati. ‘If you tell this story anywhere, you know what will happen. You know what I can do.’

“Brahma chuckled. ‘I know—better than anyone. This is how it will be. From now on, whoever tells this story or hears it will have children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren and live with vast wealth and happiness on earth for a very long time. All this is my blessing.’

“His wife said, ‘Fine. If that’s how you like it, let it be like that on earth. Nothing need stop it.’ She broke into a big smile. And I, the erstwhile parrot, at her command left that place and began my life as a courtesan in Dvaraka.”

The baby, who seemed to know everything, narrated all that she had done in her courtesan existence. Then she said to the king, “I lived through the curse of the goddess as someone called Kalabhashini. Afterward, by Brahma’s blessing, I began this life in this body. It was in my previous life, at the temple of the goddess, that I saw this necklace. You heard me tell you about it. That’s why I said, ‘After two long years, I now see this necklace again.’”

At this point Alaghuvrata, the Malayali Brahmin, stood up politely, bowed down at the feet of the girl, and rose to speak. “I can verify one thing you did in your previous life as Kalabhashini.”

“What is it you can attest to?” asked the king. So he reported how he had first heard the name Kalapurna from Kalabhashini, how he had prayed so long to hear the whole story, and how he had fallen into this court. Then he folded his hands and said to the girl, “Your words cannot fail. The proof is that you’ve now become Madhuralalasa. When can I see your husband, that great man and king, Kalapurna?”

“Good Brahmin,” said the child, “it’s not proper for me to answer your question.⁵ These people here know the answer. Ask them.”

So he looked to the king. “Did you hear what this girl has said, O king? Please tell me your names, what you do, and who all these people are. What world am I in? What city? Who are you? Who is this girl? I’m in a daze. I have no idea about any of these things, and there was no time to ask because of the arresting way the girl was telling her story.”

“True,” said the king, “there was no time to ask. I also had no time to ask you about yourself. It was one story after another until now. We heard only a little about you. Anyway, let me tell you about us. My name is Kalapurna. Here are the jewel, bow and arrows that Svabhava gave me. These four are Agamas One through Four. That man over there is Satvadatma. Next to him is Madasaya and his wife, Rupanubhuti. This amazing girl is her daughter.

“Her father, Madasaya, used to serve me, but he went away. Now’s he come back, saying that his daughter, who had become weak, has revived upon seeing me. He and his wife placed the child before me in this golden cradle. Her name is Madhuralalasa.

“This country is called Angadesha. We are in Kramukakanthottara City, but I was born in Kasarapura. It’s not far from here. But the point is the following.

“All the names and events in the story that Brahma told Sarasvati are, without exception, exactly the same as our names and our lives. But Brahma was only making up a story with names invented to explain the reflection of Sarasvati’s face and the games they were playing. How does all this fit so perfectly with our lives? There’s no disparity whatsoever. We were wondering about it all the time, but we didn’t want to interrupt the narration. Only when she came to the end of the story were our questions resolved.”

Alaghuvrata asked the king, “Then tell me, king, is your father really a woman and your mother a man, like in the story Brahma told? I’m curious.”

“I’m curious, too,” he answered. “This little girl seems to know everything. Let’s ask her. There are two things that remain unclear from her story. One is this matter. The other is the question of what will happen when this child comes of age. That one lies in the future and can be imagined. The other one is past and must be told.”

So Alaghuvrata begged the girl. “You know everything. Would you please tell us how this king was born? You first mentioned the power of his story to me, and you told the whole story here, just as I had hoped. Furthermore, I got to see the hero of the story. Now tell me the events of his birth.”

“You know,” she began, “that when you arrived at the temple of the Lion-Rider, two people were talking to me—the Siddha called Manistambha and a woman called Sumukhasatti. You also know that they spent a long time in the temple, disciplining their senses through Yoga. Then they left the temple and made love in a grove. Suddenly the Siddha, wanting the upside-down position, said to his wife, ‘I want you to be a man, and I’ll be the woman.’ She obediently replied, ‘You become the woman, and I’ll become the man.’ Instantly their genders were transposed.”

Somehow, at once the Siddha became a woman. A thin waist, full breasts and buttocks, languid eyes, a certain gracefulness, a pretty face framed by thick black hair—all these made up his now delicate body. His wife, in turn, took on his form, losing nothing—including his sparse mustache and reddish matted hair. Sometimes in couples, one becomes more attractive than the other—or less so—but a total exchange of genders is totally unheard of.

“Since at the moment they were changing they were deeply engrossed in one another, taking one another in through the eyes, each acquired the other’s exact form. What you have in your mind is what really counts.

“It was surprising even to them—seeing their appearances precisely transposed. They couldn’t quite understand why it happened.

“Sumukhasatti thought back and found the reason (she was staring at her husband’s face). ‘This is the power of the words I just uttered. It can’t be any other reason. Some time ago, when I was surrendering my old body in the presence of the Lion-Rider Goddess, I asked her to make my words come true.⁶ And if you remember what the inscription on the temple pillar said, you know that my last wish had to come true.’

“‘Don’t say more,’ Manistambha cried. ‘You never know what might happen.’ He was under the sway of the future. ‘Remember, Sarasvati has blessed us both. She promised me that you will never become pregnant, and you that you will have a son by me. We don’t know how this will unfold. We shouldn’t say anything too hastily.

“‘And one more thing. They say that women have more fun than men in sex and in what precedes and follows it. I want to find out for myself. So I want us to stay as we are for some time. You can enjoy being the man.’

“Sumukhasatti agreed. ‘You can ask me to take whatever form you like, and I’ll treat your words as God’s command. I’ll do as you say.’ She stayed a man. Manistambha kept on making love as a woman. They also began calling one another by the other’s name, to conform to the change in gender.

“After a while, the artificial woman wanted to take his new husband for a ride on the lion, to visit faraway fields and forests. He called the lion over, and they mounted it and flew away, enjoying the speed. As they were looking down from the sky, they noticed a city, and he said to his dear husband: ‘Look at this fine city with its high towers, a treasury of delights. The wall that circles it could be an anklet on the foot of a beautiful woman.

“‘Even the wall inside the moat has the shape of a lotus. They call this place on the lakeshore Kasarapura, Lake Town. Dear husband—you can smell the delicious betel mixed with camphor that women chew as they play on the roofs of their jeweled palaces.

“‘I came here once before, and I know this city. I’m still amazed at its beauty. I’d like to live here, my dear husband. We have to get off this lion.’ ‘She’ brought the lion down to the ground and dismounted with the husband.

“The king of that country was named Satvadatma. He was out riding when he caught sight of this woman. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. ‘I’ve taken as tribute from enemy kings the finest women they had in their harems. They’re in my house. Now I’ve seen a woman who takes my breath away, like no one before. Even heaven does not have a woman as lovely as this one. Why bother even mentioning my palace or those of all the other kings in this world? How can someone so beautiful have a husband like that? But let’s not jump to conclusions. Let’s find out from them who they are.’

“At that moment she happened to look at him. He spurred his horse to a gallop, as if he were jumping over a whole line of soldiers. Then he suddenly reined it in, playing with it to attract attention. The light from his jeweled crown glittered and danced as the horse moved. He made it paw the ground, he made it prance, back up, come to a halt, his gem-studded bracelets jingling all the while as he stroked its mane. To show off his brilliant armlets, he stretched out his arm and clapped his companion on the back. He twisted the lotus he playfully held in his fingers, so that the sunlight glittered off the jewels on his rings. Simply to show off his good teeth, he pretended to consult with his aide-de-camp, who was riding alongside him. At the same time, he was joking with his confidant, laughing so his pearl earrings would shake and be noticed. He lifted his crown from his head and replaced it. He twisted the ends of his mustache with his gleaming fingernails. Observing that she was noticing him, he flirted brazenly, full of himself.

“As he became more and more excited, he could barely hold back. Someone handed him a bunch of flowers, which he pressed to his chest with both arms, stealing a glance at her. As for her, she let her sari slip slightly from her breasts and bent her face.

“He got off his horse and walked toward them alone. ‘Where are you from, Mahatma?” he asked the Siddha. “Where are you headed to? What are your names? And what is this woman to you?’

“The Siddha told him how they had come there and said, ‘I call myself Manistambha, and this woman goes by the name of Sumukhasatti. She is my wife.’

“The king was thinking, ‘Just let me keep this woman somewhere around me. If I’m lucky, things could happen.’ With a veneer of politeness, he folded his hands and said, ‘We have a deep desire to host you in our house for a few days and to serve you to the best of our not inconsiderable abilities. We would be honored if you would accept our invitation, great Siddha.’

“Manistambha looked at the wife. ‘Let’s accept. We have to stay somewhere or other,’ she said to the husband. She was smiling.

“So the king led the two of them to a palankeen that took them to his home. He set them up nicely in a big palace with golden beds and rich perfumes and a huge retinue of maids. He would visit them often under the pretext of looking after their needs. He was always extremely courteous. Then he sent an appropriate messenger to ask her to come to him.

“She sent a message back, suggesting a postponement. ‘I suspect I may be a little pregnant. Until I give the Siddha his child, I won’t take another man.’

“Soon there were signs of morning sickness. Her body became tired, and she had a craving for the taste of earth. Now her pregnancy was certain. Formerly, in the contest between breasts and waists, the breasts always had the upper hand—her waist being so thin. Now the waist was thickening, and the breasts became so worried that her nipples became dark. They got darker and darker, like the night sky in winter, and her face took on the pallor of a winter moon. As her waist expanded, her desire for her husband contracted. The folds of flesh on her belly disappeared. Her navel opened up. Easily exhausted, she walked more slowly. As her due date approached, she felt drowsy and dull.

“At last this king,” said the child, pointing to Kalapurna, “was born at a moment when five planets were exalted, under the best stars. Cool breezes blew, flowers rained down under clear skies, the gods played their drums and cried ‘Hurrah!,’ the three fires blazed up, good people felt joy, bad people sank low. Moreover,” the girl explained, “when Brahma said that Manistambha, the man, would be Kalapurna’s mother, and that Sumukhasatti, the woman, would be his father, he was deliberately ignoring the temporary change in their names at that period and citing their real names given at birth. Brahma’s words don’t ever go wrong, do they? Immediately after the birth, Manistambha, the new mother, made his wife again speak her words of power, so that they would revert to their original genders—he reacquiring his masculinity, and she her feminine identity. They also re-exchanged their names and resumed their Yoga practices. They’re still in Kasarapura, not far from here. You can check with them if you want confirmation.

“The moment Kalapurna was born, he was already a young man; and at that very moment the Siddha called Svabhava came and gave him a jewel, some arrows, and a bow. No one can tell which came first, his birth, his youthful manhood, or these gifts. It was the Siddha who named him Kalapurna. The king of the town, Satvadatma, heard about this and thought, ‘He must be a man of godly powers and superhuman greatness. I thought his mother was just an ordinary woman, like anybody else, and was infatuated with her. This was wrong. Somehow or other, I should make amends.’ He went to her and said, ‘Mother, I didn’t realize who you were. If I offended you in any way, please forgive me. I am surrendering all my kingdom to your son. I’ll serve him as his minister.’”

Alaghuvrata wanted to know who that Svabhava was and why he gave the jewel, arrows, and bow to Kalapurna.⁷ Madhuralalasa explained:

“The Siddha named Svabhava is none other than Sumukhasatti’s father. When she was born, he left his wife and wandered around the world until he came to Mahuripura. There he met Dattatreya, who knew all the secrets of Yoga. He served him and learned from him all the arts of Yoga. Since in the course of his Yogic practice he focused his thoughts entirely on his inner nature, he got the name Svabhava, “one’s own nature.”

Alaghuvrata wanted to hear more. “You’re a treasure of wisdom. There’s nothing you don’t know. Tell me what you mean by Yoga.”

The girl embarked upon a discourse on this subject.⁸ “Yoga means connection—that is, the connectedness of the individual self with the ultimate Self. It has eight parts. Let me explain. They are known as discipline (yama), control (niyama), postures (asana), breathing (pranayama), and four advanced meditative states—pratyahara, dharana, dhyana, and samadhi. They are further subdivided into many elements. For example, discipline means the following ten rules: truthfulness, compassion, tolerance, courage, moderation in eating, sincerity, celibacy, no stealing, nonviolence, cleanliness. ‘Truthfulness’ means not telling lies in the sense of not causing hurt to others. ‘Compassion’ is being sensitive to another person’s distress. ‘Tolerance’ is not getting angry at other people’s shortcomings. ‘Courage’ is not taking to heart a loss of property or separation from loved ones. ‘Moderation in eating’ means that an ascetic should eat only eight mouthfuls a day; twice that number are acceptable for a person retired to the wilderness; a householder can have twice that amount; other people should take light meals. ‘Sincerity’ is being truthful in thought, word, and deed while performing prescribed actions and avoiding prohibited ones. ‘Celibacy,’ for a renouncer, a person retired to the wilderness, and a bachelor student, is total avoidance of sexual relations with a woman in thought, word, or deed; for a married man, sex is permitted with his wife during her fertile periods, but he must have nothing to do with other women. ‘No stealing’ is not taking others’ property. ‘Nonviolence’ is avoiding harm to any living being. According to the texts, ‘cleanliness’ is of two kinds, external and internal; the external kind means washing your body with water and with earth; the internal kind means purifying your mind by meditation on the truth.

“The ten forms of control are: tapas,⁹ contentment, faith, charity, piety, study, sense of shame, attention, chanting, and ritual. Only a person who has held to these rules of discipline and control is eligible for the further practices of postures and breathing.

“There are many bodily postures and exercises. Chief among them are, for example, the following: in the Svastika posture, you sit with a straight spine while putting the sole of each foot in the space between thigh and calf of the other foot. In Gomukhasana, the cow’s face, you rest the left buttock on the left ankle and the right on the right and maintain stable posture. In Padmasana, the lotus, you put the right foot on the left thigh and the left foot on the right thigh, stretching your hands to catch hold of your two toes. Then bring your chin down to touch your chest. Focus your eyes on the tip of your nose. But some people say there is no need to bring your chin to your chest. And there is another variation of this posture where you place the soles of your feet flat against your thighs and your hands between your thighs while staring at the tip of your nose. In this posture, bring your chin down to your chest and suck in your breath while pressing your tongue against the root of one of the two front teeth. Similarly, there are the Hero’s posture, the Lion, the Secure, the Released, the Hidden, the Peacock, the Western. All of them produce agility of body and make you healthy as well as purifying you of evil.

“As for working with the breath, it has three stages, puraka, kumbhaka, and recaka. This is called pranayama; if one practices it over and over, he will control the winds in his body, and all the energy channels will open. In the body, there are 72,000 such channels. Among them, 101 are really important. Among these, 14 are special. Three of these merit further mention. One of them is the most important of all—the sushumna, also called the brahma channel that leads to the opening to ultimate space at the top of the head. The best form of Yoga involves directing the breath into that channel.

“First, turn the senses away from their objects. Then, think of whatever they dwell upon as your own self. Perform your daily activities only in your mind. Fix your breath on the eighteen secret spaces in your body. This is what experts in Yoga have called pratyahara, ‘total reabsorption.’

“If you stabilize your entire mental activity in Vishnu, without letting it wander, that is samadhi, ‘totality.’

“By practising these Yogic methods assiduously and concentrating his thoughts on his inner nature, that Siddha became Svabhava. He was searching all over the world for a suitably secluded space for his samadhi when by chance he came to the land of his birth, where he found a lake as deep as a hundred palm trees. This, he decided, was the ideal place for Yoga.

“He dived into it and stayed there, holding his breath. But then his son-in-law suddenly appeared down there. He had jumped into the lake because he was angry at his wife. Svabhava gave his son-in-law a jewel that kept him forever young, and other things. But he didn’t tell him how they were related. Why reconnect to the entanglements that you’ve already let go?

“Eventually, after a long time, he completed his Yoga, according to destiny. He left the lake and went to Srisailam,¹⁰ where all wise people go. Its slopes were studded with sapphires and rubies; a sculpted wall circled the temple, carved with images of new, benevolent gods. It was a place where you could become free. You could see huge boulders reflected in the water of the Ganges of the Nether World, which, like an anklet circling the foot of that towering mountain, seemed to contain these images of rival mountains it had subdued. This densely wooded mountain was like an arm thrust into the sky to keep it from collapsing on to the earth.

“With reverence, Svabhava climbed the great mountain, so rich in a special kind of power, and paid his respects to Mallikarjuna-Siva, the lord white as jasmine. Afterward, as he was strolling along the slopes, he suddenly caught sight of Manikandhara, who was about to throw himself off the mountain. ‘Who are you?’ he asked, ‘and why are you so eager to kill yourself?’

“Manikandhara told him his name and his family and also his entire story up to the point of his impending suicide. Svabhava was excited to hear in this story the names of his daughter and son-in-law, Sumukhasatti and Manistambha, or Sugatri and Salina.¹¹ He asked for more details, as much as Manikandhara could provide, and introduced himself as Sugatri’s father. He told him about his own life, meanwhile wondering how the contradictory blessings given to Sugatri and Salina by the goddess Sarada were going to come to fruition. Of course, he assured himself, somehow or other it would surely come to pass.

“Svabhava said to Manikandhara, ‘You’re definitely scheduled for a great future. As the disciple of Narada, you were trained in music by Krishna himself. At the sage’s advice, you went on pilgrimage to all the great Vishnu shrines. You’ve transformed an accidental curse into the promise of ruling a kingdom. Anyway, you’re a gandharva, which is in itself a great gift. If you consider all of this, it’s clear that your next life will be one of immeasurable success. Your previous karma won’t come to nothing. Everything will bear fruit. In fact, all that you’ve done so far is more than adequate for a great rebirth. What additional benefit are you expecting to derive from jumping off this mountain?’

“‘I’m hoping to be born as the son of very honorable and righteous people,’ said Manikandhara.

“‘If that’s the case, you can’t find better people than my daughter and my son-in-law to choose as your parents,’ said Svabhava. ‘I would be happy if you would do so. What’s more, I can do you a big favor. Long ago, I asked my guru for a sword, for self-protection. Something inside me made me ask. He created a sword and gave it to me, saying, “This will never fail. Your family will be, from now on, a line of royal warriors.” If you think about it, to be born as my son-in-law’s son would therefore be very fitting for you. You will rule the world. Put an end to all your doubts and take my advice.’

“Manikandhara said, ‘Listen. There is already a guarantee that I’ll be reborn as a king. But that’s not enough. I’m jumping off this cliff in order to be reborn in a virtuous family.¹² And I still have a few worries in my mind. You can be a king, you can be born in a good family, but still it is hard to overcome one’s enemies, inside and out. This disturbs me. Moreover, if the demon of political power possesses him, even the wisest person will become a little blind, a little mute, and a little deaf. One could perhaps hope to rid oneself of the drawbacks of political power by associating with learned Brahmins who know the ancient texts. But why should such people want to come to you? They don’t want what you can give them—in fact, they’re beyond desire—and they avoid kings, who can only give them things. You have to search them out actively, and it’s rare for a king to have the good fortune of finding them and enticing them to his court. That’s how life is. You need a lot of wisdom to be able to please them and bring them to you. Think how long it will take for me to acquire such wisdom. These questions and others like them pierce my heart like a sharp arrow. You seem be to capable of making things happen. Show me a way to resolve these worries.’

“He persisted in this vein for a while, until Svabhava said, to free him from his problems, ‘I can give you a bow that bestows certain victory and a new set of arrows. They’re the right weapons for you. This I can create through the help of my guru, Dattatreya. There’s nothing that his blessing can’t achieve. I’ll also make you a magical jewel¹³ that will attract great scholars of all texts and knowledge to your patronage. Merely by looking at it, those who come to you will find health, protection, and long life.’

“And right in front of him he produced these items—a bow; sharp, glistening arrows; and a red jewel. ‘I’ll be there at the moment you are born, even a little before, with these in my hands. You don’t have to worry about when you’ll get them and how long it will take.’

“While he was saying this, Madasaya approached him with his wife and advisors. They were visiting Srisailam on pilgrimage for the Night of Shiva.¹⁴ As they were passing by, they heard Svabhava speaking and, after asking who he was, fell at his feet. ‘Today our pilgrimage to the God White as Jasmine has been fulfilled,’ said Madasaya. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Now I’m in luck. I am King Madasaya of the Hehaya lineage. This woman is my wife. These men are my advisors, great minds all of them. They bear the tradition of all the Vedas, Rig, Yajus, Sama, and the Fourth. My wife and I served the great Dattatreya, who lives in Mahuri City, with their help. The great hero Kartaviryarjuna rose to be an emperor and became famous everywhere because of Dattatreya’s blessing. I myself come from Kartavirya’s royal line, and that is why I went to serve the sage myself. He came to me in a dream and told me to look for you, a Siddha named Svabhava, his student. He promised that you would you make my wishes come true. Since I never saw you before and had no idea where you live, I was going everywhere, asking everyone. When I heard you mention Dattatreya, I had to find out who you were. Now I’ve found you at last. It’s almost as good as having my wishes come true.’

“Svabhava was very pleased. He realized that this was his guru’s strategy, a way to make him famous. ‘My guru really loves me,’ he thought to himself, making a mental bow to him. Then he looked at the king. ‘Who am I to give you what you wish? But you claim my guru said I would, so let whatever he planned for you come to pass.’

“Svabhava showed him the bow and arrows he had just created, and he also pointed out Manikandhara. ‘This is Manikandhara. I have just now made a bow and arrows for him that will bring him victory in his next life. You will conquer all the kings of the earth except him. That is certain.’

“‘That’s fine,’ said the king, a little sarcastically. ‘Your kindness is enough for me. In the end I will take care of things myself. After all, he can’t conquer except with the help of this bow and these arrows.’

“He was bragging, and Svabhava didn’t like it. ‘There’s no doubt about his defeating you in that next life, but what’s more, he’ll make both you and your wife his slaves.’

“The wise advisors intervened with great politeness, bowing. ‘Noble mind! What does this man know? If he says three words he makes six mistakes. Can we make amends to you? Won’t you take into account our humble words? He searched you out and came to you because you are in his guru’s line. Take that into consideration and give him what he wants, somehow or other.’

“‘My words will not fail,” said Svabhava. ‘They are just like what God writes on your forehead when you are born. Your king will conquer all others except the one I mentioned. That one he will also serve, along with his wife, in a very humble way. Your king will also have a child when he and his queen see a certain jewel that the king possesses.’

“The advisors thought a little. ‘We’ve been with this king for a long time, and he has been treating us well. He took our word as his word, our happiness as his. Now whom should we serve when our king himself becomes a slave to another?’

“‘Your king’s king will be your king. A certain jewel he wears will bring you happiness. You’ll even forget—all four of you and Madasaya—your past preeminence, and still you’ll be happy. Until Manikandhara is reborn, your king can go on enjoying the pleasures of conquest. After that, he will become a servant, as I have said. As for you, you will touch the jewel and find great joy.’

“With this, Svabhava, the great Siddha, sent them off. He also took leave of Manikandhara and went away, wherever he wanted to go.¹⁵ Just as he had predicted, Madasaya conquered king after king,” concluded Madhuralalasa.

Alaghuvrata had another question for the girl. “What did Manikandhara do after taking leave of the Siddha?”

That’s what he said, O king, delighting in great poetry. With a gleam from the corner of your eye, you cast away the gloom of your enemies’ dark pride.

This is the fifth chapter in the long poem called Kalapurnodayamu made by soft-spoken Suraya, son of Pingali Amaranarya, whose poetry all connoisseurs enjoy throughout the world.

1. The Telugu names have masculine and feminine endings, clear indications of gender.

2. Purohita.

3. Brahma was born out of a lotus growing from the god Vishnu’s navel. The blessing playfully reformulates the conventional one, “May your mother’s womb be cool” (mī amma kaḍupu callagā), that is, “May you live long.”

4. In fact, the parrot reborn as the young baby, now narrating the story.

5. Madhuralalasa has good reason to be shy at this point, as soon becomes clear.

6. At the moment that Manistambha was trying to behead Kalabhashini, Sumukhasatti interposed herself, taking an oath on the goddess, warning Manistambha that his effort would not succeed, and praying, “Great Sakti! Make my words come true.” Since according to the inscription, her dying wish must come true, she retains this ability into her life as the young Sumukhasatti. Everything she says does come true.

7. Note that the story now jumps backward again, to a point before Kalapurna’s birth.

8. We have omitted several verses from this rather self-contained discourse on Yoga.

9. “Heat,” that is, discipline in praxis and meditation.

10. The wilderness shrine of Śiva-Mallikârjunasvāmi, the Lord White as Jasmine, in western Andhra.

11. Note that Manikandhara had met both of these people in their later lives as Sumukhasatti and Manistambha, and he had also heard and reported the story of Sugatri and Salina as a result of his visit to the Sarada-pitha in Kashmir.

12. To die at Srisailam on Sivaratri Day brings blessings such as this.

13. maṇi.

14. Śiva’s festival in the month of Magha (February–March).

15. This is the last we hear of Svabhava.