(The Recognition of Śakuntalā)
A Play in Seven Acts
Chanters of the benediction.
DIRECTOR, Sūtradhāra (one who holds the threads); probably plays the hero.
ACTRESS, Natī; wife of the Director; probably plays the heroine.
KING, Duhṣanta, the hero or nāyaka; monarch of the lunar dynasty of Puru.
SŪTA, Royal charioteer.
ŚAKUNTALĀ, The heroine or nāyakī; Duhṣanta’s Queen; adopted daughter of Sage Kaṇva.
ANASŪYĀ, PRIYAMVADĀ, Friends and companions of Śakuntalā.
MĀDHAVYA, Jester, the King’s friend and constant companion.
GUARD, Raivataka, also doorkeeper.
GENERAL, Bhadrasena, Senāpati or Commander of the Royal Army.
GAUTAMĪ, Matron of Kaṇva’s Hermitage.
HĀRITA, Hermit boy.
KAṆVA, Head of the Hermitage and foster-father of Śakuntalā.
ŚĀRNGARAVA, ŚĀRADVATA, Disciples of Sage Kaṇva.
CHAMBERLAIN, Pārvatāyana, in charge of the Royal Household.
VETRAVATĪ, Doorkeeper of the Royal Apartments.
SOMARĀTA, High Priest, the King’s preceptor.
CHIEF OF POLICE
SUCAKA, JĀNUKA, Policemen.
FISHERMAN
MIŚRAKEŚĪ, An apsarā (celestial nymph), friend to Menakā.
PARABHRTIKĀ (Little Cuckoo), MADHUKARIKĀ (Little Honey-bee), Maids tending the pleasure garden adjoining the Royal Apartments.
CATURIKĀ, The King’s personal attendant.
BOY, Sarva-Damana, later the Emperor Bharata, son of Śakuntalā and the King.
SUVRATĀ AND HER COMPANION, Hermit women in Mārīca’s Hermitage.
MĀRĪCA, Prajāpati or Primal Parent and Indra’s father.
ADITI, Consort of Mārīca and mother of Indra, daughter of Dakṣa.
KARABHAKA, The Queen Mother’s emissary.
AN ANCHORITE AND HIS DISCIPLE
PUPIL OF KAṆVA
TWO HERMITS
ROYALBARDS
ATTENDANT, Pratīharī
Female bodyguard of the King, who looked after his weapons and attended him on his hunts.
DURVĀSĀ, A sage reputed for his violent temper and quick to curse.
HAMSAVATĪ, Duhṣanta’s junior queen.
Aerial voices: Voices of the tree nymphs in Kaṇva’s Hermitage.
Voice of the cuckoo in the Hermitage.
KAUŚIKA, The Royal Sage Viśvāmitra, real father of Śakuntalā.
MENAKĀ, Apsarā (Celestial nymph and dancer at Indra’s Court); mother of Śakuntalā.
INDRA, King of the Immortals.
JAYANTA, Indra’s son.
NĀRADA, A wandering sage, messenger of the gods.
VASUMATĪ, Royal Consort, Duhṣanta’s Chief Queen.
MITRĀ-VASU, The Queen’s brother.
PIŚUNA, Chief Minister.
DHANA-VṚDDHI, A wealthy merchant prince, probably head of the guild.
That First Creation of the Creator: (1)
That Bearer of oblations offered with Holy Rites:
That one who utters the Holy Chants:
Those two that order Time:
That which extends, World-Pervading, in which sound flows impinging on the ear:
That which is proclaimed the Universal Womb of Seeds:
That which fills all forms that breathe with the Breath of Life.
May the Supreme Lord of the Universe who stands revealed in these eight Forms* perceptible preserve you.
DIRECTOR (looking towards the green-room) : Lady ! If the preparations in the dressing room are completed, would you be pleased to attend us?
ACTRESS (entering) : Here I am, my lord; what are your orders regarding this evening’s performance?
DIRECTOR (looks around) : Lady, we have here before us, an august audience that is highly educated and most discerning. This evening we wait upon it with a new play composed by Kālidāsa, entitled The Recognition of Śakuntalā. Will you see to it that all the actors do their very best?
ACTRESS : With your excellent training and direction, my lord, nothing will be found wanting.
DIRECTOR (smiling) : The truth of the matter, my lady, is: Unless those who know applaud my art, (2)
I cannot think I know it well;
even those most expertly schooled
cannot be wholly self-assured.
ACTRESS : Is that so, my lord? Well, now tell me what is to follow, my lord.
DIRECTOR : Let us treat the audience to something that will delight their ears.
ACTRESS : Which of the seasons shall I sing about?
DIRECTOR : About this very season, I should think—Summer, that set in not so long ago and is enjoyable in so many ways. For at the moment:
Days draw to a close in quiet beauty; (3)
plunging in-cool waters is delightful;
sleep drops softly in thick-shaded haunts;
woodland breezes blow fresh and fragrant
having consorted with Pātalī flowers.
ACTRESS : Very well, (sings)
Exquisite are Śirīṣa blossoms—(4)
see how they sway—
crested with delicate filaments—
kissed, lightly, lightly
by murmurous bees—
lovely women—
exulting in their youth—
place the blossoms
tenderly—
as ornaments over their ears—
DIRECTOR : Beautifully sung, dear lady; aha—just look around you; the audience is still, as if drawn in a picture—spellbound, caught in the web of beauty woven by your singing. Now then, what play shall we put on to honour and entertain them further?
ACTRESS : Why, Sir, what you mentioned right at the beginning—the new play entitled The Recognition of Śakuntalā.
DIRECTOR : You do well to remind me, dear lady. Indeed, my memory failed me for an instant; because,
I was carried far, far away, lured (5)
by your impassioned song, compelling,
(looks towards the wings)
even as the King, Duhṣanta here,
was, by the fleet fleeing antelope.
(Exit.)
End of Prologue
Scene: The forests in the foothills of the Himālayas; later the Hermitage of Kaṇva, by the river Mālinī.
Enter on a chariot, bow and arrow in hand, in hot pursuit of a deer, the King with his charioteer.
SŪTA1 (looking at the King and the deer) : O Long-Lived Majesty!
Casting my eye on the fleeting blackbuck (6)
and on you holding the taut-strung bow,
I seem to see before my very eyes
Pināki,* the Lord, chasing the deer.
KING : We have come a long, long way, Sūta, drawn by this blackbuck; even now he is seen:
Arching his neck with infinite grace, now and then (7)
he glances back at the speeding chariot,
his form curving fearful of the arrow’s fall,
the haunches almost touch his chest.
Panting from fatigue, his jaws gaping wide
spill the half-chewed tender grass to mark his path.
With long leaps bounding high upwards, see how he soars
flying in the sky, scarce skimming the surface of the earth.
(puzzled) How is it that I can hardly see him, even though we are in such hot pursuit?
SŪTA : Sire, seeing the ground was uneven, I lightly reined in the horses; the chariot’s speed slackened. Therefore, the deer was able to put so much distance between himself and us. Now that we are on level ground, you will soon see that he is not beyond your aim.
KING : Slacken the reins.
SŪTA : As His Majesty commands. (mimes increased speed of the chariot) See, see, Sire:
The reins hanging slack, (8)
the horses leap forward,
no, they glide over the track—
bodies out-stretched, ears flung back,
the tips of their plumes motionless;
the very dust whirled up
swiftly advancing cannot outstrip them.
KING (exulting) : See how they excel even Hari’s* bright horses; therefore:
What was minute suddenly looms large; (9)
what’s cleft down the middle seems to unite;
the eye sees as straight what’s naturally curved:
the chariot rushing along, nothing stays
near or far, even for a moment.
(A voice off-stage) : Ho there! Stop, hold, O King! This deer belonging to the Hermitage ought not to be struck down . . . aha! . . . do not kill him, O King.
SŪTA (listens and looks around) : Your Majesty, here are ascetics standing shielding the blackbuck who is now right in your arrow’s path.
KING (urgently) : Quick, rein in the horses.
SŪTA : Yes, Sire. (stops the chariot)
ASCETIC (holding up his hand) : This deer is of the Hermitage, O King! He should not be killed . . . no . . . no . . . do not strike him down.
How fragile the life of this deer! (10)
How cruel your sharp-pointed arrows, swift-winged!
Never should they fall on his tender frame
like tongues of flame on a heap of flowers.
Quickly withdraw your well-aimed arrow, bound (11)
to protect the distressed, not strike the pure.2
KING (bowing low in respect) : It is withdrawn. (replaces the arrow in the quiver)
ASCETIC (pleased) : This is indeed an act worthy of your Honour, born in Puru’s3 dynasty and the glorious light of kings. May you be blessed with a son who will turn the wheel of empire.4
KING (bowing low) : I accept a Brāhmana’s blessings.
ASCETIC : O King! We are on our way to gather wood for the sacrificial Fire. There, clinging to the slopes of the Himālaya, along the banks of the Mālinī is visible the Hermitage of our Guru, the Patriarch Kaṇva where Śakuntalā dwells like its guardian deity.5 If other duties do not claim your time, enter and accept the hospitality profferred to a guest. Further:
When you behold the sages rich in holiness (12)
immersed in the tranquil performance of holy rites
free of impediments, you will know how well
your arm scarred by the oft-drawn bowstring protects.
KING : Is the Patriarch at home now?
ASCETIC : Enjoining his daughter Śakuntalā to receive guests with due hospitality, he has gone not long back to Soma-tīrtha, to propitiate the adverse fate threatening her happiness.
KING : I shall pay my respects to her then. She will no doubt inform the great sage of my profound veneration for him.
ASCETIC : We shall then be on our way.
(Exits with his disciple.)
KING : Sūta, urge the horses on and let us purify ourselves with a sight of the holy Hermitage.
SŪTA : As Your Gracious Majesty orders. (mimes increased speed of the chariot)
KING (looking around) : Sūta, even without being told, it is plain that we are now at the outskirts of the penance-groves.
SŪTA : How can you tell, my lord?
KING : Do you not see, Sir? Right here:
Grains of wild rice fallen from tree-hollows (13)
where parrots nest, lie scattered under the trees;
those stones there look moist, glossy, from the oil
of ingudi-nuts split and pounded on them;
all around, deer browse in their tranquil haunts,
unafraid of the chariot’s approach; yonder,
drops of water dripping off the edges of bark-garments
in long lines, trace the paths to pools and streams.
And you see further:
Rippling beneath a passing breeze, waters flow (14)
in deep channels to lave the roots of trees;
smoke drifts up from oblations to the Sacred Fire
to dim the soft sheen of tender leafbuds;
free from fear, fawns browse lazily in meadows
beyond, where darbha-shoots are closely cropped.
SŪTA : Yes, Sire, everything is as you say.
KING : Sūta, let us not disturb the peace of the Hermitage; stop the chariot right here and I shall get down.
SŪTA : I am holding the reins fast; let His Majesty alight.
KING (alights from the chariot and looks at himself) : Hermit-groves should be visited modestly attired. So, here are my jewels and bow. (hands them over to the charioteer) By the time I return from visiting the residents of the Hermitage, see that the horses are watered.
SŪTA : As His Majesty commands.
(Exits.)
KING (turns around and looks) : Ah, here is the entrance to the Hermitage; I shall go in. (enters and immediately indicates the presence of a good omen) Ah . . . .
Tranquil is this hermitage, yet my arm throbs;6 (15)
what fulfilment can await me here?
Yet who knows; coming events find doors
opening everywhere.
(A voice in the background) : This way, this way, dear friends.
KING (listening closely) : Aha . . . I hear snatches of conversation to the south of this orchard. (turns and looks around) I see; here are some hermit-girls coming this way . . . and carrying jars proportionate to their slender frames . . . to water the saplings planted here. O what a charming sight!
If girls bred in a hermitage (16)
can boast of such beauty rare in palaces,
is there any denying woodland vines
far surpass those nurtured in gardens?
I think I shall wait here in the shade and watch them. (stands observing them)
FIRST : Listen, dear Śakuntalā; it looks to me as if these trees in the Hermitage are dearer to Father Kaṇva than even you are; see, he has appointed you who are as delicate as a newly-opened jasmine-flower, to fill these trenches round the roots with water.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Dear Anasūyā, it is not merely a matter of Father’s injunction; I love them like a sister. (she mimes watering the trees)
SECOND : Friend Śakuntalā, the trees of the Hermitage that bloom in summer have all been watered. Shall we now sprinkle those that are past flowering? That would be an act of devotion, not looking for a reward.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Priyamvadā, my friend, what a lovely thought, (again mimes watering the trees)
KING (to himself) : What! Is this Kaṇva’s daughter, Śakuntalā? (surprised) Ah! How utterly lacking in judgement is the venerable Kaṇva to imprison such beauty in a bark-garment.
The sage who would inure to harsh penance (17)
this form ravishing in its artless beauty
is surely attempting to cut acacia wood
with the edge of a blue-lotus petal.
Let it be. Hidden behind these trees, I shall watch her undisturbed. (stands concealed)
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Sweet Anasūyā, Priyamvadā has tied my bark-garment so tight that I feel quite uncomfortable; could you loosen it a little? (Anasūyā loosens it)
PRIYAMVADĀ (laughing merrily) : Blame your own budding youth that’s making your bosom swell.
KING : She’s right in what she says,
With rounded breasts concealed by cloth of bark (18)
fastened at the shoulder in a fine knot,
her youthful form enfolded like a flower
in its pale leafy sheath unfolds not its glory.
While it is true that bark is not the appropriate dress for her youth, can it be really held that it does not become her like an adornment? Consider,
Though inlaid in duckweed the lotus glows; (19)
a dusky spot enhances the moon’s radiance;
this lissom girl is lovelier far dressed in bark!
What indeed is not an adornment for entrancing forms!
ŚAKUNTALĀ (looking in front of her) : See, my friends, the mango tree over there fluttering his fingers of tender leaf sprays—as if beckoning to me. I shall go over to him. (walks over to the tree)
PRIYAMVADĀ : Dearest Śakuntalā, stand there for a moment.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : What for?
PRIYAMVADĀ : With you beside him, the mango looks as if wedded to a lovely vine.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : You are aptly named—‘Sweet-Talker’—aren’t you?
KING : Priyamvadā does not speak idly; see how,
Her lower lip has the rich sheen of young shoots, (20)
her arms the very grace of tender twining stems;
her limbs enchanting as a lovely flower
glow with the radiance of magical youth.
ANASŪYĀ : Look, Śakuntalā, the jasmine that you named Vana-jyotsni* has chosen the mango as her bridegroom.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : O Anasūyā, what a charming sight, this marriage of vine and tree. See, the jasmine has this very moment entered into her budding youth. And the mango tree is laden with young fruit indicating he is ready for enjoyment. (she stands gazing at them)
PRIYAMVADĀ (smiling archly) : Anasūyā, guess why Śakuntalā is gazing upon Vana-jyotsnī for so long and with such longing.
ANASŪYĀ : No, I cannot; you tell me.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Well . . . this is what she is thinking: Just as Vana-jyotsnī has married the tree that is a worthy partner for her, so, may I also find a consort worthy of me.
ŚAKUNTALA : That must be your own heart’s desire, for sure. (she pours water from the jar)
ANASUYA : Hey, Śakuntalā, just look; here is the Mādhavī bush that Father Kaṇva nurtured with his own hands as he nurtured you. You have forgotten her?
ŚAKUNTALA : Then I might as well forget myself. (comes close to the bush and exclaims in delight) Look, look, what a surprise! Priyamvadā, listen, I have something to tell that will please you.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Please me? What’s that, dear?
ŚAKUNTALA : Look, Anasūyā . . . the Mādhavī is covered with buds . . . from the root up; this is not its season for blooming.
BOTH FRIENDS (come hurrying up) : Really, is it true, Śakuntalā dear?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Of course it is true—can’t you see?
PRIYAMVADĀ (viewing the blossoming bush with delight) : Well, well, now it is my turn to tell you something which’ll please you. You will soon be married.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (with a show of annoyance) : That must be what you wish for yourself.
PRIYAMVADĀ : No, I am not joking; I swear I heard it from Father Kaṇva’s own lips that this would signal your wedding.
ANASŪYĀ : Ah! Now we know, don’t we, Priyamvadā, why Śakuntalā has been watering Mādhavī so lovingly.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : And why not . . . I love her like a sister. (waters the Mādhavī)
KING : I wonder . . . could she be the Patriarch’s daughter by a wife not of his own class? Let’s be done with doubts:
It is my firm belief that by the Law7 (21)
she can rightly be a warrior’s bride,
for my noble heart yearns deeply for her.
When in doubt, the truest inner prompting is
to the virtuous, unassailable authority.
Still, I think I should try and find out the true facts about her.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (in alarm) : O help, a bee has flown out of the jasmine bush . . . and it is buzzing round my face. (mimes attempts to ward off the bee)
KING (looking longingly at her) :
Her lovely eyes rove following (22)
the hovering bee close to her face;
she knits her brows practising already
playful glances though not in love—but fear.
(with a show of vexation):
O, you honey-foraging thief! You touch (23)
ever so often her glancing eyes, tremulous,
and softly hum, hovering close to her ear
as if eager to whisper a secret,
sneaking in to taste her ripe lower lip
—the quintessence of love’s delight—
even as she piteously flails her hand.
Blessed indeed are you, while I wait
seeking to know the truth—undone.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Friends, friends, help me, protect me from this villain who keeps harassing me.
FRIENDS (smiling) : Who are we to protect you? Call to mind Duhṣanta: the penance-groves are under royal protection.
KING : This is a golden opportunity for me to show myself. O, don’t be afraid . . . (checks himself halfway and speaks to himself) No, this way, it will be evident that I am the King. Let me think . . . I shall assume the manner of just a plain visitor.8
ŚAKUNTALĀ (rather scared) : This impudent fellow will not leave me alone. I shall go from this place. (takes a few steps, stops and throws a quick glance behind) O help! He follows me.
KING (hastily steps forward) : Ha!
While the chastiser of the wicked, (24)
great Puru’s scion rules over this rich earth,
who dares behave in this churlish manner
to guileless, young girls of the hermitage.
ANASŪYĀ : O noble Sir, it is nothing very serious; our dear friend here (pointing to Śakuntalā) was being bothered by a large bee and became frightened.
KING (approaching Śakuntalā) : I trust your devotions go well.
ANASŪYĀ (addressing the King) : All goes well now, Sir, since we have the honour of waiting on a distinguished guest.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Welcome to you, noble Sir.
ANASŪYĀ : Dear Śakuntalā, go and bring the proper guest-offering and some fruit. The water we have here will serve to wash the guest’s feet.
KING : I have already been welcomed by your gracious words; nothing more is needed.
PRIYAMVADĀ : At least, Sir, do sit down under the spreading shade of this Saptaparna tree on this cool seat and rest yourself.
KING : You must all be tired too after performing these pious duties. Do sit down for a while.
PRIYAMVADĀ (aside) : Śakuntalā, courtesy demands that we keep our guest company. Come, let us all sit down.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : How is it that the sight of this person fills me with emotions out of place in a penance-grove.
KING (looking at them) : How charming a friendship this of yours, gracious ladies, all of the same age and equally beautiful!
PRIYAMVADĀ (aside) : Anasūyā, who could he be—mysterious, majestic in manner, yet he speaks with such easy charm and shows such courtesy?
ANASŪYĀ (aside) : I am curious too; let me sound him. (aloud) Noble Sir, encouraged by your gracious words, I would like to ask you this: What great lineage does Your Honour adorn—which land now mourns your absence—and what has brought a delicately nurtured noble like yourself on this wearying journey into our Groves of Righteousness?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : O heart, keep calm; Anasūyā is asking what I wanted to know.
KING (to himself) : Now what shall I do? Shall I disclose myself—or—shall I conceal my identity? (reflecting) Let me do it this way. (aloud) Lady, I am one well-versed in the Vedas whom the Paurava monarch has appointed as Minister in Charge of Religious Affairs. In the course of visiting the holy retreats, I chanced to come to these Groves of Righteousness.
ANASŪYĀ : Why then, the followers of the Right Path have now a guardian.
FRIENDS (noting the demeanour of Śakuntalā and the King, aside) : Śakuntalā, if only Father were here!
ŚAKUNTALĀ (knitting her brows) : What if he were?
BOTH : He would then make this distinguished guest supremely happy by offering him the sole treasure of his life.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (pretending to be annoyed) : O be quiet; you two have some silly notion in your heads and keep prattling; I shan’t listen to your nonsense.
KING : We would also like to ask you something about your friend here, if we may.
BOTH : Consider your request a favour done to us.
KING : His Holiness Kaṇva has been known to observe perpetual celibacy; how then can your friend be a daughter begotten by him.
ANASŪYĀ : Hear what I have to say, Sir. There is a Royal Sage of great renown belonging to the Kuśika clan.
KING : Yes, His Holiness Kauśika.
ANASŪYĀ : He is our friend’s real father. Father Kaṇva is her father by virtue of having reared her when he found her abandoned.
KING : Abandoned! The word greatly rouses my curiosity. Pray let me hear the story from the beginning.
ANASŪYĀ : Once, a long time back, that Royal Sage was immersed in the most formidable austerities for many years. The gods for some reason became nervous and sent the Apsarā Menakā to disturb his single-minded concentration.
KING : O yes, it is well known that the gods often become afraid of the penances of others. Then what happened?
ANASŪYĀ : Spring had just set in; seeing her maddening beauty . . .(stops halfway in embarassment)
KING : What followed is easily understood. So—this lady was born of an Apsarā.
ANASŪYĀ : That’s right.
KING : It fits:
How could a form of such matchless beauty (25)
come from the womb of a mortal mother?
The scintillating lightning-flash
does not spring up from the earth.
KING (to himself) : O what good fortune! Now my desires find a firm footing.
PRIYAMVADĀ (turning to the King with a smile) : Your Honour was about to say something?
KING : Gracious lady, you have guessed right. Keen to know more about the lives of the saintly, I am eager to ask one further question.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Do not hesitate, Sir; ascetics may be questioned freely.
KING : I wish to ask,
Is it only till she is given in marriage (26)
that your friend is strictly bound by hermit-vows
—an unkind bar that shuts out love—
or must she dwell, alas, for ever
with the gazelles so dear to her
whose lovely eyes mirror her own eyes’ dear loveliness?
PRIYAMVADĀ : Sir, even in the practice of religious duties, she is dependent on another’s will. However, it is her father’s resolve to give her in marriage to one worthy of her.
KING (elated, speaks to himself):
Hold fast, O heart, to your fondest wish: (27)
the troubling doubts are now dispelled.
What you dreaded might be a burning flame,
turns out a glowing gem to touch and hold.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (pretending anger) : Anasūyā, I am leaving.
ANASŪYĀ : For what reason?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : To report to the revered Lady Gautamī that Priyamvadā is talking a lot of nonsense. (rises to leave)
ANASŪYĀ : Surely, dear, it is not seemly on the part of residents of a hermitage to leave a distinguished guest in this casual manner before he has received all the rites of hospitality.
KING (to himself) : How! Is she leaving? (makes a movement to restrain her, then checks himself) Strange how a lover’s actions mirror his feelings.
Eager to follow the sage’s daughter, (28)
vehemently held back by decorum,
no sooner had I left but I returned
it seems, but not stirred from this very spot.
PRIYAMVADĀ (coming close to Śakuntalā) : Hey, you headstrong girl; you cannot go.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (knitting her brows) : And why not?
PRIYAMVADĀ : Because you owe me two turns at watering the trees; pay me back, then you may leave. (forces her back)
KING : I see that the lady is exhausted from watering the trees; as it is,
Her arms droop, languid, her palms glow (29)
reddened lifting up the watering-jar;
her bosom still heaves as she draws deep breaths.
The Śirīṣa blossom adorning her ear,
caught in the sparkling web of beads of sweat,
ceases its delicate play against her cheek,
With one hand she restrains her hair, straying wild,
unruly, released from its knot undone.
Let me release her from her debt to you, if I may. (offers his ring)
KING : O please do not misunderstand; the Ring is a gift from the King.
PRIYAMVADĀ : The more reason then that Your Honour ought not to part with it. Your word is sufficient, Your Honour, to release her from her debt.
ANASŪYĀ : You are free now, friend Śakuntalā—through the magnanimity of this noble gentleman—or—of the great King. Where are you off to, now?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : Were it in my power to leave, I would.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Why don’t you leave now?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Am I still answerable to you? I shall leave when I please.
KING (watching Sakuntalā closely, to himself) : Could it be that she feels towards me as I feel towards her? In that case, my wishes can find fulfilment. For,
Even though she makes no response to my words (30)
she is all ears whenever I speak;
it is true she faces me not, but then
what other object do her eyes ever seek.
(A voice off-stage) : Ho there! Ascetics all; get ready to protect the creatures in the vicinity of the penance-groves . . . King Duhṣanta who delights in the chase is in our neighbourhood.
Like swarms of locusts glittering in the sunset glow (31)
the whirling dust threshed by tumultuous hoof-beats of horses
falls thick upon the trees in the Hermitage
where wet bark-garments hang from the branches.
KING (to himself) : Alas! As ill-luck would have it, my armed guards, looking for me are surrounding the penance-groves.
(Again, the voice off-stage) : Ho there, listen, ascetics all . . . throwing women, children and the aged into wild confusion, here he comes:
Crazed with fear at the sight of a chariot, (32)
scattering terror-stricken antelope-herds,
holding aloft, skewered on one trunk
a branch sliced off a tree by a violent blow,
and in fury dragging along tangled chains
of trailing wild creepers that form fetters round him,
a tusker rampages in our Grove of Righteousness
—the very embodiment of hindrance to penance.
KING : O what a disaster! How gravely have I wronged the ascetics here; I had better go.
FRIENDS : Noble Lord! We are greatly perturbed hearing these warning cries about the elephant; permit us to return to our cottage.
ANASŪYĀ (addressing Śakuntalā) : Listen Śakuntalā, Lady Gautamī will be racked by anxiety on our account; come quickly; let’s all be together.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (indicating some difficulty in walking) : Ha! A numbness seizes my thighs.
KING : Take care, gentle ladies: go carefully. We too shall take all precautions to prevent damage to the Hermitage.
FRIENDS : Noble Lord! I think we know you well enough to feel that you will forgive us this rude interruption of our welcome; may we request you to visit us once more so that we may make amends for the inadequate hospitality extended to you, Sir.
KING : No, no, that’s not true; I am honoured sufficiėntly by the mere sight of you, gracious ladies.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : See, my foot has been pricked by the needle-like points of fresh blades of Kuśa-grass . . . and my bark-garment is caught in the twigs of this amaranth bush. Wait for me while I free myself.
KING (sighing deeply) : They are gone; I too should leave. My keenness to return to the Capital has been blunted by meeting Śakuntalā. I shall set up camp with my companions at some distance from the penancegroves; How hard it is for me to tear my thoughts away from Śakuntalā.
My body moves forward, (33)
my restless heart rushes back
like a silken pennon on a chariot’s standard
borne against the wind.
(Exit all.)
End of Act One
entitled
THE CHASE9
Scene: The Forest.
MĀDHAVYA : O, this cruel play of Fate: I am reduced to a state of such misery; and why—because I am the friend and constant companion of the King—he is obsessed with the chase. We rattle along forest trails to the cries of ‘here’s a deer’ and ‘there’s a boar’; even in the intense heat of the noonday sun in Summer, when there is scarcely any shade to be seen. When we are thirsty, what do we drink—phew—the putrid water of mountain streams, tepid, bitter, with rotting leaves floating in them. And for food—we eat at all odd hours—meat most of the time roasted on spits—wolfing it down flaming hot. O, misery upon misery! The bones in my body are all out of joint, galloping without a break on horseback. How can a man sleep well in this state? On top of it all, at the crack of dawn, the beaters with their pack of hounds—those sons of bitches, all of them are up—getting everybody up for the day’s hunt. I am rudely awakened by the ear-splitting cacophony of their halloos. But is that the end of the story—no Sir, no indeed. What do you know—the lump has sprouted a boil.10 Only yesterday, speeding along, His Majesty left us all far behind and went straight into the Hermitage running after a deer. Then, what happened—as my ill-luck would have it, he chanced upon a beautiful hermit-girl—Śakuntalā is the name. From that moment, Sirs, the very idea of returning to the Capital finds no place in his thoughts. Dawn broke this morning on his sleepless lids, thinking of her alone. Can’t do a thing about it. At any rate, I shall see him as soon as he completes his morning rituals. Ah! What do I see . . . here comes His Majesty bow in hand, lost in thoughts of his beloved . . . and wearing garlands of wild flowers. I shall approach him now; (moves a little towards the King) no, this is what I shall do; I shall stand right here, drooping, bent down, as if my body were all broken with no strength left in it. May be, may . . .be. . .this will bring me some respite.
(stands supporting himself on his staff)
KING (lost in deep thought, sighs, speaks to himself): Aah!
Deeply loved, she is not easy to win; (1)
but watching her ways, my heart is consoled;
though love has not found fulfilment yet,
mutual longing is itself a pleasure.
(smiling wryly) Thus indeed does a lover mock himself wishing to believe his beloved’s thoughts and feelings reflect his own. However:
That tender glance—the melting glow in her eyes, (2)
though she directed them elsewhere—
her steps languid from the weight of heavy hips,
that seemed love’s response patterned in enticing grace—
those words she spoke in scorn when her friend held her back,
saying ‘don’t go’: all this I fancied
had only me for an object—
But alas! Love sees only Himself everywhere.
MĀDHAVYA (stands without moving a step) : My friend, my hands are powerless to extend themselves in greeting; I salute Your Honour with words only. May you be ever-victorious!
KING (looks at him and smiles) : And what has paralysed your limbs?
MĀDHAVYA : A fine thing to ask; do you hit me in the eye—and then ask why it is watering?
KING : My dear friend, I do not follow; make your meaning clear.
MĀDHAVYA : Now tell me my friend, if the bent reed11 by the river totters to and fro with the grace of a hunchback’s gait, is it from its own force or from the force of the stream’s flow?
KING : Why, in the reed’s case, the force of the stream’s flow is the cause.
MĀDHAVYA : So are you, in mine.
KING : How is that?
MĀDHAVYA (as if angry) : Go on; you abandon the affairs of the kingdom; you give up those places where one walks without slipping and you stick around here enamoured of the primitive life of foresters, it seems. To tell you the truth, my limbs feel as if they are not my own, so bruised and painful are their joints with galloping daily chasing after wild beasts. Do me a favour please; let us rest at least for one day.
KING (to himself) : This fellow speaks my own thoughts. My mind is not on the chase either, thinking of Kaṇva’s daughter. For:
I cannot bear to draw my well-strung bow (3)
with its perfectly-aimed arrows on these deer
that dwell always beside my own dear love
and bestow on her the loveliness of their eyes.
MĀDHAVYA (looking at the King) : You look as if you are communing with your heart; mine was just a cry in the wilderness then?
KING (trying to smile) : Thinking that a friend’s words ought not to be ignored, I was silent; that was all.
MĀDHAVYA : May you live long. (prepares to leave)
KING : No, stay, I haven’t finished what I was going to say.
MĀDHAVYA : Command me, my lord.
KING : After you have rested well, Sir, I would like your help in a matter that will not cause you the least bit of exertion.
MĀDHAVYA : Like tasting sweet dumplings perhaps?
KING : I shall let you know.
MĀDHAVYA : I am at your disposal.
KING : Ho there—who is on duty?
GUARD : Your Majesty’s command?
KING : Raivataka, let His Lordship, the General, be asked to attend.
RAIVATAKA : As my Royal Master commands.
GENERAL (looking at the King) : Much abused though the sport of hunting is, in the case of our Royal Master, it has all been to the good. Just see our great lord:
He carries his magnificent frame (4)
like a tusker that roams the mountains;
a frame spare, instinct with energy,
the sinewy strength hides the loss of rounding flesh;
he endures the sun’s hot rays unharmed,
not a trace of sweat showing;
his brawny chest and arms are hard and scored
by the ceaseless recoil of his twanging bowstring.
RAIVATAKA : Sir, His Majesty is looking fixedly in your direction, as if impatient to give you his commands. Let Your Honour approach.
GENERAL (approaches the King, bowing low) : Hail, Victory to our Royal Master. The beasts of prey have been tracked down to their lairs deep in the forest. Why then does my lord stay?
KING : Lord Bhadrasena, Mādhavya here has been reviling the chase so bitterly that my ardour for it is cooling off.
GENERAL (aside) : Mādhavya, be firm in your opposition; in the meantime, I shall follow the bent of my Royal Master’s mind, (aloud) My Lord, this blockhead doesn’t know what he is talking about. Your Royal Highness is a prime example of the benefits of the chase.
The body light, manly, ready for action, (5)
trim in the waist, fat melted away; knowledge gained
of changing responses of woodland creatures seized by fear or anger;
the archer’s elation as arrows hit perfectly the moving mark:
falsely indeed is the chase cursed as a vice;12
is there another sport so excellent as this?
MĀDHAVYA (angrily) : Go away; His Majesty is now recovering his true nature; as for you, you may please yourself roaming from one forest to another until like a witless jackal you walk right into the jaws of some old bear.
KING : Bhadrasena, we are in the vicinity of the Hermitage: therefore I cannot really applaud these words of yours. For the present, my good lord:
Let bisons plunge into forest-pools and revel splashing, (6)
striking the water repeatedly with their mighty horns;
let the herds of antelopes clustering in groups in the shade,
chew the cud. undisturbed;
and let wild boars lining up round puddles
where the marsh-sedge grows fragrant, root peacefully in the mud:
and let this my bow with its loose-knotted string
be allowed to enjoy its well-earned repose.
GENERAL : So please Your Royal Highness, your wish is my command.
KING : Let the beaters hemming in the game be recalled then; and let the soldiers now encamped in the environs of the holy groves encircling them, be ordered to withdraw. Mark you:
Like sun-crystals13 cool to the touch (7)
vomit fiery sparks from deep within
if struck by another luminous power,
so, hermits rich in holiness
in whom Tranquillity presides,
have hidden deep a blazing energy
that leaps out to burn when aroused.
MĀDHAVYA : Now, you inciter of strong passions, be off with you and quickly.
GENERAL (bowing to the King) : As our Royal Master commands.
(Exits.)
KING (to his attendants) : Ladies, you may divest yourselves of your hunting costumes; and you too, Raivataka, resume your duties.
RAIVATAKA : As the Great Lord commands.
(Exit.)
MĀDHAVYA (laughing) : So, now that Your Honour has rid himself of these gadflies, do me a favour; come and sit in comfort in the shade of that tree over there, on that charming stone seat with its canopy of flowering vines, so that I could also sit down and rest.
KING : Lead the way.
MĀDHAVYA : This way, my lord. (both turn around and sit down)
KING : Ah! My friend Mādhavya, your eyes have not as yet been richly feasted as they should be; for you have not seen what is truly worth seeing.
MĀDHAVYA : How do you say that? Is Your Honour not right here before my eyes?
KING : Everyone considers the person dear to him as most worth seeing. But, I am referring to her . . . to Śakuntalā, that exquisite ornament of the Hermitage.
MĀDHAVYA (aside) : I shall not give him room to expatiate on this theme. (to the King) Now listen, Your Honour, if she is a hermit-girl beyond your reach, is there any point in seeing her?
KING : O, you blockhead!
Why do people with upturned faces gaze (8)
upon the crescent of the new moon with unblinking eyes?
Apart from that, you know that Duhṣanta’s mind is never drawn to forbidden things.
MĀDHAVYA : And can you explain that to me?
KING : Like a flower of the fragrant white jasmine (9)
dropped from its parent stalk onto an Arka leaf
she, sprung from a lovely Apsarā, I hear,
is the Sage’s daughter only found by him, abandoned.
MĀDHAVYA (laughing) : Oho! So that’s how it is, eh! Like one whose palate jaded by enjoying delicate candies made of the sweetest dates hankers after a taste of the sour tamarind, you too, Sir, sated with the pleasure of the Inner Apartments, full of beauties, and each one a gem . . . you are consumed by this passion for a hermit-girl.
KING : It is only because you haven’t seen her that you talk like this.
MĀDHAVYA : Why Sir, then she must be a miracle of beauty indeed . . . to arouse such breathless admiration in you.
KING : My friend, she needs not many words:
Contemplating Brahmā’s imaging power ineffable, (10)
and her beauty, she flashes on my eye,
a jewel among women
of another order of Creation, extraordinary;
as if the Mighty Creator gathering
pictured perfection first,
then quickened it with the Breath of Life.
MĀDHAVYA : Why then, she must put to shame all other beauties for all time.
KING : And I keep thinking . . . she is:
A flower whose fragrance none has dared to smell; (11)
Spring’s tenderest shoot no profaning fingers have plucked;
fresh honey whose taste no lip has relished;
a gem glowing inviolate. Who can tell
what sinless mortal Brahmā has named
the blessed enjoyer of such beauty,
the fruit entire of his holy works in many births.
MĀDHAVYA : For that very reason, go quickly, hurry, Sir, and rescue her before she falls into the hands of some forest-dwelling hermit with greasy head and hair plastered down with ingudi oil.
KING : Ah! But the lady is not mistress of herself; and her parent is not in the Hermitage at present.
MĀDHAVYA : Now tell me—what are her feelings towards you? Did her eyes express any hint of love?
KING : You know, my friend, hermit-girls are shy and retiring by nature; Yet:
When I turned towards her she turned her gaze away: (12)
her smiles seemed the prologue to some other play;
with her demeanour thus veiled by modesty,
Love neither shone radiant nor was it concealed.
MĀDHAVYA (laughing) : What Sir! Did you then expect her to leap into your arms as soon as she set eyes on Your Honour?
KING : But as she was leaving with her friends, her feelings were amply manifest; How?
Having gone some steps, she stopped, unforeseen, (13)
exclaimed—‘Ah! My foot is pricked by a darbhā-blade’;
sylph-like she stood, still, turning towards me,
busy disentangling the bark-garment
that certainly was not caught on the twigs of any shrub.
MĀDHAVYA : I see it all now; I see it quite clearly. I trust you have laid in a good stock of provisions. For it looks as if you have turned this penance-grove into a pleasure-garden.
KING : My friend, can you not come up with some pretext or other that will gain us entry into the Hermitage once more?
MĀDHAVYA : Hm . . . now . . . let me think; but do not break my concentration with any of your false lamentations. (as if deep in thought) Ah! I have it. Why think of some pretext? Are you not the King?
KING : Yes, so what of it?
MĀDHAVYA : Go right in and demand your one-sixth share of wild rice from the hermits.
KING : They pay a tribute far richer than a heap of priceless gems for the protection we provide them; and we cherish that far more. Think:
Perishable is the fruit of the yield (14)
raised from the Realm’s Four Estates;
but imperishable is that sixth part14
the hermits give us of their holiness.
(Voices off-stage) : Good, we have succeeded in our search.
KING (listening) : From their calm, resonant tones, these must be hermits.
GUARD : Victory to my Royal Lord; here are two young hermits at the entrance.
KING : Usher them in without delay.
GUARD : I shall announce them at once.
GUARD : This way, come this way, honourable sirs.
FIRST HERMIT (seeing the King) : How admirable! His person radiates such majesty; yet one feels at ease. But that is not surprising in a king who is almost a sage.15
He has embraced the worldly life (15)
that all must lead to be of use to the world:
he too practises the Yoga of protection
and garners for himself each day
the purest merit of holy rites:
with all passions under perfect control
and controlling the world’s Righteous Way.
To him belongs that hallowed praise-word—Sage
—prefixed merely with the attribute—Royal—
the praise-word so often chanted
by pairs of celestial minstrels
to resound in the Realms of Light.
SECOND HERMIT : Gautama, this is Duhṣanta? Friend to Indra, the Destroyer of powerful Vala?16
FIRST HERMIT : Who else?
SECOND HERMIT :
What wonder then that this heroic King (16)
with arms strong as massive iron beams
that bar the city’s great gates should hold
single sway over the All-Supporting Earth
bounded by the dark-blue oceans?
For the celestials, when the battle lines are drawn
against the fierce-encountering Titans
hope for victory only from his taut-drawn bow
and the clashing thunders of Indra,
the oft-invoked17 Lord of the Realms of Light.
HERMITS (approaching) : Blessings be upon you, Sir. (offer fruits)
KING (rises from his seat with respect) : I welcome you, holy hermits. (accepts the offering with a deep bow, then sits down) I am eager to know what has brought you here.
HERMITS : The residents of this Hermitage hearing that you are in the neighbourhood address this request to you.
KING : What are their commands?
HERMITS : In the absence of His Holiness, the Patriarch, demons will begin disturbing the performance of our sacred rites. Therefore they request that you with your charioteer come in and stay for some nights in the Hermitage to guard it.
KING : I am honoured to be asked.
MĀDHAVYA (aside) : Good Fortune seizes you by the throat, eh?
KING : Raivataka: go, tell the charioteer to bring round the chariot and my bow and quiver.
GUARD : As Your Highness commands. (goes off)
HERMITS (expressing great satisfaction) :
The Puru monarchs were first and foremost (17)
consecrated protectors of those in distress;
as befits your noble descent, O King,
you now duly follow in their footsteps.
KING : Go first, Holy Sirs; I shall follow close on your heels.
HERMITS : May victory always attend on you.
(Exit.)
KING : Mādhavya, are you not eager to see Śakuntalā?
MĀDHAVYA : At first, yes; I was—with eagerness that was brimming over; but—(looks fearful) at the mention of the word ‘demons’, not a drop of it remains.
KING O, you shouldn’t be afraid; you will naturally stay close to me.
MĀDHAVYA : A protector of your chariot wheels then?18
GUARD : Your Majesty, the chariot is ready and awaits my lord’s triumphal setting out. But—Karabhaka has also arrived—from the Queen’s Royal Presence.
KING (in a reverential tone of voice) : What! From our Royal Mother?
GUARD : Yes, my lord.
KING : He should have been shown in immediately.
GUARD : I shall do so at once, my lord. (goes out)
KARABHAKA (approaches) : Hail, hail to His Majesty. The Queen Mother’s command runs as follows, Sire: ‘On the fourth day after today I shall break the fast that I have undertaken, the fast known as “The Safeguarding of the Son’s Succession”. My long-lived son19 should be by my side on that solemn occasion without fail.’
KING : Mādhavya, look at me; on the one hand I am bound to honour my commitments to the holy sages; on the other the command of a revered parent is laid on me. Neither obligation may be ignored with impunity. How do we cope with such a situation?
MĀDHAVYA (laughing) : Hang in between, suspended in mid-air like Triśanku.20
KING : I am truly perplexed.
Required to perform duties in places (18)
widely separated, I am in two minds,
like a river that strikes a hill in mid-course,
and forced back parts into two streams.
(after reflecting) Mādhavya, my friend, you have always been accepted as a son by our Mother; so—you could leave now, return to the Capital and acquaint Her Majesty with my deep involvement in the affairs of the Hermitage; you could also take my place at the ceremony and carry out for Her Majesty, all the ritual duties that a son has to perform.
MĀDHAVYA : You don’t say that because you think that I am afraid of demons, do you?
KING : O no, O Great Brahmin; you—afraid? That is inconceivable.
MĀDHAVYA : Well then, I shall leave; but I must travel in a manner befitting the younger brother of the King.
KING : Indeed you shall, my friend. I shall have my whole retinue accompany you, so that it will no longer be a disquieting presence in the Holy Groves.
MĀDHAVYA (struts around proudly) : Ha, I feel already like the Crown Prince.
KING (to himself) : This fellow tends to prattle. He may blurt out something about my interest in Śakuntalā to the ladies in the Royal Apartments. That won’t do; I should put a different complexion on the whole matter. (takes the jester by the hand and speaks to him) My friend, listen carefully to me. I am going into the Hermitage solely out of esteem for the sages, to help them. I have no real interest in the hermit-maiden; just a whim, you know. For you can very well see that:
Between our royal self and that simple girl, (19)
a stranger to love, bred among gentle fawns
as one of them, lies a world of difference.
take in earnest what was spoken merely in jest.
MĀDHAVYA : Is that all?
(Exit all.)
Thus ends Act Two
entitled
CONCEALMENT OF THE TELLING
Scene: The Hermitage of Kaṇva.
PUPIL (with admiration) : O what a mighty monarch Duhṣanta is. No sooner had he entered our Hermitage than all our sacred rites became completely free of all unexpected disturbances.
Why tell a long tale of arrows aimed and shot; (1)
by the mere twang of the bowstring from afar
as if his bow spoke quivering with rage, he made
all hindrances flee terrified from the scene.
Now let me gather Kuśa-grass and take it to the Priest to strew on the altar.
Ho there, Priyamvadā, say, for whom are you carrying these lotus leaves on their tender stalks? And the cooling balsam of the fragrant Uśira-root? (as if listening to a reply) What did you say? O, that Śakuntalā has suffered a heat-stroke? That these things are to cool her burning frame? Priyamvadā, listen, let her be looked after with the greatest care, for she is the very life-breath of the Patriarch. I shall also send some hallowed water used for the Sacrifice, with Gautamī; it will soothe Śakuntalā.
(He exits.)
End of the Prelude
KING (pensive, sighing) :
I know well the Holy Power of penance immense; (2)
that young girl is dependent on another’s will,
that I know. But like water flowing down,
my heart is truly powerless to return.
O God who churns men’s minds,22 how is it that your weapons claimed to be flowers, are so sharp? (as if recollecting) O yes, I know why:
Śiva’s fiery wrath must still burn in you (3)
like Fire smouldering deep in the ocean’s depths.
Were it not so, how can you burn lovers like me,
when mere ashes is all that is left of you?23
Then again, we of the Brotherhood of Love are cruelly deceived by you and the moon—though we put our fullest trust in both. And why do I say this:
False is the statement to lovers like me (4)
that flowers are your arrows; that moonbeams are cool;
the moon’s rays pregnant with ice shoot darts of fire,
and your arrows are tipped with hardest adamant.
On the other hand:
Even if you drive me to distraction, O dolphinbannered24 god! (5)
With unsleeping anguish, I would still welcome you,
if only you would assail her too with your darts
—that lovely girl with long, bewitching eyes.
O blessed god, though reproached bitterly, you show no compassion.
Wantonly have I made you greatly grow, O Bodiless One!25 (6)
nourishing you assiduously with a hundred rites and feelings;
now, drawing your bow back to your ear,
it is at me you choose to let your arrow fly.
Now that the ascetics, free of impediments, have given me leave to withdraw, where can I find solace for my weary heart? (sighs deeply) What other refuge is there but the beloved’s presence. (looking up) At this hour when the noonday sun blazes down with cruel heat, Lady Śakuntalā with her friends usually retires to the Mālinī’s banks where flowering vines form shady bowers. Well, that’s where I shall go. (turns and looks) I can tell that the beautiful girl has just passed through this avenue of young trees. For:
The cups of flowers she has just plucked (7)
have not as yet sealed themselves,
and these tender shoots, broken off,
are still moist with their milky sap.
(feeling pleasure at the touch of the breeze) Aha! How delightful is the breeze blowing here in the woodlands.
This breeze that wafts the fragrance of lotuses (8)
with the cool spray of Mālinī’s rippling stream
is able to soothe love-fevered limbs,
enfolding them in a close embrace.
(noticing something) Ha! Śakuntalā must be here in this arbour of reeds overhung by flowering vines—it is plain to see,
At the entrance dusted with pale river sand (9)
a line of footprints clearly etched, lightly marked
in front by her toes and indented deeply at the back
by her heels weighed down by wide heavy hips.
Let me look through these twining stems. (peers in and exclaims with rapture) My eyes look upon Paradise; there she is, the beloved of my dreams, reclining on a stone slab strewn with flowers and attended by her friends. Let me hear what they are saying in confidence. . . (stands watching)
FRIENDS (fanning her) : Dear Śakuntalā, does the breeze of these lotus leaves soothe you somewhat?
ŚAKUNTALA (in deep distress) : What! Are my dear friends fanning me? (her friends look at each other dismayed)
KING : Lady Śakuntalā does appear greatly indisposed. (musing awhile) I wonder if it is the summer’s heat that is the real cause of her distress . . . or, is it what I think it is . . . (reflecting on it) O well, have done with doubts:
With Uśīra-balm spread thick over her breasts (10)
and a single bracelet of tender lotus stalks
that hangs pale and withered on her wrist,
my beloved’s body though racked with pain. . .
how exquisite it looks in its pale loveliness:
Summer’s heat can strike as savage as love. . . it’s true,
but. . . to burn young girls into such splendour. . .
I cannot think that lies in Summer’s power.
PRIYAMVADĀ (aside) : Anasūyā, ever since she first saw the King, Śakuntalā has been restless and dejected; there can be no other reason for her sickness.
ANASŪYĀ : I suspected as much myself. Very well, I’ll ask her. Śakuntalā dearest, I wish to ask you something . . . see how your limbs are simply burning.
KING : Quite so:
Those bracelets of plaited lotus-fibre (11)
bright as moonbeams, now turning brown,
speak of the fever unendurable
coursing like fire through her limbs.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (raising herself) : What did you wish to ask me, dear?
ANASŪYĀ : Listen, dear Śakuntalā, we cannot enter your mind and read your thoughts; but we feel that the state you are in is like that of persons experiencing the pangs of love as described in romantic tales. So be frank, tell us the cause of your distress. Without knowing the nature of an illness how can a cure be found for it?
KING : Anasūyā thinks the way I do.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Indeed, I am deeply troubled; but I cannot blurt it out abruptly.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Dearest, Anasūyā is perfectly right; why are you hiding the cause of your distress? You are wasting away day by day; all that is left is the delicate glow of your loveliness—like the lustre of fine pearls.
KING : Priyamvadā is not exaggerting; just see her:
Wan face with sunken cheeks, breasts no longer firm, (12)
slender waist grown more slender, shoulders drooping despondent,
complexion dulled by pallor—O how woebegone she looks,
limp, struck by maddening love, yet how lovely
—a Mādhavī, its leaves touched by a scorching wind.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (sighing) : Whom else can I speak to of my heartache? But it will be a source of anxiety for you both.
BOTH : That’s why we insist on knowing; grief shared is easier to bear.
KING : Asked by friends who share her joys and sorrows, (13)
the young girl cannot but speak of the ache
hid within her heart.
Although I saw her turn round many a time
gazing at me with hungering eyes,
my heart beats now like a coward’s
fearing to hear the answer she makes.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (shyly) : From the moment that Royal Sage who is the protector of penance-groves came within my sight. . . (breaks off overcome by shyness)
BOTH : Go on, tell us, dear.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : From that instant I am pining for love of him.
BOTH : Fortunately, you have set your heart on one truly worthy of you. But then where else would a great river flow except to the ocean!
KING (ecstatic) : I have heard what I longed to hear.
Love, the creator of my anguish (14)
now brings a touch of cooling balm,
as days dark with clouds at summer’s end
bring relief to the world of living things.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : My friends, if you approve, counsel me as to how I can find favour in the eyes of the Royal Sage; otherwise I shall be just a memory.
KING : Her words remove all doubts.
PRIYAMVADĀ (aside) : Anasūyā, she is too far gone in love and cannot brook any delay.
ANASŪYĀ : Priyamvadā, what plan can we devise to fulfil our friend’s desire secretly and without any delay.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Hm . . . without delay, why that’s easy . . . but secretly . . . ah! That bears some thinking.
ANASŪYĀ : And how’s that?
PRIYAMVADĀ : Why, the Royal Sage looks at her with so much tenderness in his eyes; and these days he appears rather wasted . . . as if he spends wakeful nights.
KING : How right she is; such is my state:
Hot tears welling up of anguish within, as I lie (15)
night after night, my cheek pillowed on my arm,
dull the brilliance of gems set in this gold armlet
that unimpeded by the welt raised by the bowstring,
slips down as often as I push it up from my wrist.
PRIYAMVADĀ (after reflecting) : Listen, let Śakuntalā write a love letter; hiding it under some flowers that I shall pretend were part of those offered to the deity, I shall manage to give it to the King.
ANASŪYĀ : My friend, it is a pretty plan, I like it. What does our Śakuntalā have to say about it?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Can the arrangement be questioned?
PRIYAMVADĀ : Right then, now you think of an elegant song that’ll convey your feelings to the King.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I can think of something, but my heart trembles at the thought of being rebuffed.
KING : He from whom you fear a rebuff, O timid girl! (16)
He stands here, yearning to enfold you in his arms.
The man who woos Fortune may win her—or he may not,
but does Fortune ever fail to win the man she woos?
again:
Longing for your love, the man you assume (17)
wrongly as one who would spurn that love,
he, is here, close to you, beautiful girl!
A gem is sought for, it does not seek.
FRIENDS : O you who belittles her own worth! Who on earth will think of unfurling an umbrella to keep off the cooling autumnal moonlight!
ŚAKUNTALĀ (smiling) : I am admonished.
KING : My eyes forget to wink while I stand gazing on my beloved; and no wonder;
With one eyebrow raised, curving deep as a tendril (18)
as she shapes her feelings into words,
her face, a blush mantling her cheek, proclaims
the passionate love she feels for me.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Dear friends, I have a little song running through my head; but there are no writing materials at hand to set it down.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Why don’t you incise the words with your nail on this lotus leaf soft as a parrot’s downy breast?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Now listen to the song and tell me if the words are wellchosen to convey my feelings.
FRIENDS : Go ahead, we are listening.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (reading)26 :
I do not know your heart, (19)
but my nights and days, O pitiless one!
Are haunted by Love,
as every part of me
yearns to be one with you.
KING (coming out at once) :
Love burns you, true, my slender girl! (20)
But me, He consumes utterly—relentless;
Day wipes out the moon27 from view
but not the water-lily.
FRIENDS (rising with the greatest joy) : Welcome, welcome to the immediate answer to our inmost wish. (Śakuntalā tries to get up too)
KING : Fair lady, no, no, do not exert yourself.
Your limbs aflame with pain that bite (21)
into the bed of flowers, fast fading
your bracelets of lotus-fibre, need not
bend in the customary courtesies.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (thrown into confusion, to herself) : O my heart, are you so overcome that you find nothing to say?
ANASŪYĀ : Let His Majesty grace one end of this stone slab.
Śakuntalā moves away a little.
KING (sitting down) : Priyamvadā, I trust your friend’s fever is somewhat abated?
PRIYAMVADĀ (with a smile) : With the right medicine at hand it ought to improve, Sir. Your Majesty, the love you bear to each other is plain to see. But the love I bear my friend prompts me to say something.
KING : Say what is on your mind, gracious lady. What is intended to be said, if left unsaid, becomes a matter of regret later.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Well, I shall say it then, Your Honour. It is the duty of the King to relieve the sufferings of the residents of a hermitage . . .
KING : What higher duty can there be?
PRIYAMVADĀ : The god of love, mighty as he is, has reduced our dear friend here to this state for love of you. You are bound therefore to sustain her life by taking her.
KING : Dear lady, this is a mutual wish and entreaty. I am most highly favoured.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (with a smile but feigning annoyance) : That’s enough, Priyamvadā, do not hold back the good King who must be impatient to return to the Inner Apartments of the Royal Palace.28
KING : O Lady enshrined in my heart! if you consider my heart (22)
devoted to none but you, as otherwise, then think of me
slain once by the arrow of the god who makes men mad,
as slain once more,
O lady whose glances pour into me like delicious wine!
ANASŪYĀ : Sire, one hears that kings have many loves. Pray act in such a manner as not to bring sorrow and bitter tears to her kinsfolk.
KING : Gracious Lady! I shall just say this:
Though many a wife may grace our palace-courts (23)
none but two shall ever be the glory
and mainstay of our race—the Earth29
sea-girdled, and, this lady, your friend.
FRIENDS : We are reassured.
PRIYAMVADĀ (aside) : Anasūyā, just observe our dear friend; see how she revives each minute like a pea-hen that feels the touch of the breeze from fresh rain clouds.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Listen, friends, beg the Protector of the Earth’s pardon for what might have been spoken among ourselves, that went beyond the bounds of propriety.
FRIENDS (smiling) : Whoever said something of the sort should beg his pardon; is anyone else to blame?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Pray forgive whatever was said in your presence; people say many things behind a person’s back.
KING (smiling) :
I may overlook the offence, (24)
O girl with tapering thighs! If
out of kindness, you offer me a place
on this bed of flowers
sweet from the touch of your limbs,
to allay my weariness.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Would that be sufficient to make her happy?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (with a show of being peeved) : Stop it, you naughty girl; how dare you tease me . . . and in the state I am in.
ANASŪYĀ (glancing outside) : Priyamvadā, look, this little fawn is anxiously searching here and there . . . must be looking for his mother. . . he seems to have lost her; let me take him to her.
PRIYAMVADĀ : O, this little one . . . he is like quicksilver, nimble and wayward, my friend; you are no match for him single-handed. Let me help you.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Friends, dear friends, do not leave me alone; let one of you go. I am helpless with no one to turn to.
FRIENDS (smiling) : He whom the whole world turns to for help is by your side.
(They leave.)
ŚAKUNTALĀ : What, have they gone already. . . and left me alone?
KING (looks around) : My love, do not be uneasy. Am I not near you, your suitor who adores you utterly? Now, tell me:
Shall I raise cool breezes, waving over you (25)
these broad lotus-leaf fans, moist and refreshing
to relieve your languid weariness?
Shall I place your lotus-pink feet on my lap,
O Lady with beautiful tapering thighs!
And press them tenderly to ease your pain?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I shall not bring dishonour on those whom I should honour.30
KING : Beautiful girl! The day is not cool as yet; look at your condition:
Leaving your couch of flowers, throwing off (26)
the cool wrap of lotus leaves placed on your breasts,
your delicate body all worn out with pain,
how will you brave this fierce noonday heat?
(saying this the King forces her to turn around)
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Let go of me, release me, I am not free to do as I please. But what can I do when I have only my friends to help me?
KING : O misery! You make me feel ashamed of myself.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I don’t mean to, Your Majesty; I am just blaming my Fate.
KING : Why do you rail at a fate that is favourable to you?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : And why won’t I rail against my Fate that tempts me when I am not my own mistress, with qualities not my own.
KING (to himself) :
It is not Love who torments virgins31 to gain his ends, (27)
it is they who torment Love, letting the moment slip by;
great though their own eagerness, shrinking
from the advances of the beloved,
and fearful of yielding their bodies
though longing for the pleasure of union.
(Śakuntalā does leave.)
KING : What! Shall I not please myself? (advances and seizes her by her garment)
ŚAKUNTALĀ (with a show of anger) : Paurava!* Act with decorum; ascetics constantly move about here.
KING : Fair Lady! Such fear of your elders? His Holiness Kaṇva is well-versed in the Law; you will not cause him any distress. Listen,
Many are the daughters of sages, (28)
married by the Gāndharva rite,32 we hear;
and once married, felicitated
with joyful acceptance by their fathers.
(looking around) What! I have walked into the open, have I? (lets go of Śakuntalā and retraces his steps)
ŚAKUNTALĀ (takes a step forward, turns around; bending) : Paurava! Even though your wishes remain unfulfilled and you know me only through conversation, do not forget me.
KING : My beautiful girl!
However far you may go from me, (29)
you shall never go from my heart,
as the shadow of the tree at evening
never leaves its base on the eastern side.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (going a little way, to herself) : Alas! What shall I do? Hearing these words my feet refuse to move forward. Let me hide behind this amaranth hedge and observe how his feelings incline, (stands still)
KING : How could you go off like this, my love, without a thought, forsaking me whose unchangeable love is for you and for you only.
How delicate is your body to be loved most gently! (30)
And how hard your heart like the stalk of the Śirīṣa-flower!
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Ah! Hearing this I am powerless to leave.
KING : What’ll I do now in this bower, empty of my beloved’s presence. (looking in front) O, what’s this . . . my way is barred.
This bright bracelet of lotus-stalks fragrant (31)
with Uśīra-balm from her body
lies here before me, fallen from her wrist
to become a chain around my heart.
(he picks it up adoringly)
ŚAKUNTALĀ (looking at her arm) : O dear, the bracelet was so loose, it must have slipped off and fallen without my noticing it.
KING (placing the bracelet on his breast) : O for its touch!
This charming ornament of yours, my love, (32)
having left your lovely arm to rest here,
consoles this unhappy man more than you have,
though it is only an insentient thing.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Ha! I cannot hold back any longer. Using this bracelet as a pretext, I shall discover myself. (approaches the King)
KING (seeing her is overjoyed) : Ah! Here is the lady who is my very life; no sooner had I begun to lament my fate than Fate came to my aid to do me a favour.
Parched with thirst, the bird has only to crave for water (33)
and a shower from a fresh rain-cloud falls into its mouth.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (standing before the King) : Sire, when I was half-way I remembered the bracelet that had slipped off my arm; I have come back for it knowing in my heart that you would have taken it. Let me have it back lest it betray us both to the sages.
KING : Well . . . I’ll give it back on one condition.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : And what’s that?
KING : That I myself restore it to the place it once occupied.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : There’s no way out. (comes closer to him)
KING : Let’s sit here on this same stone slab.
KING (taking hold of Śakuntalā’s hand) : O, to feel such a touch!
Has Fate rained down a shower ambrosial33 (34)
to make the tree of love
once burnt to ashes by Siva’s wrath
put forth a fresh shoot once more?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (feeling the touch of his hand) : Quickly, hurry up, my lord.
KING (filled with happiness, to himself) : How this inspires confidence in me; for she has addressed me by the word used for a husband in speaking. (aloud) Oh beautiful girl! The ends of this bracelet of lotus-stalks are not joined very firmly; if you permit me, I’ll re-do it.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (with a smile) : If you wish.
KING (artfully delays and finally fixes the bracelet) : See, lovely girl!
Leaving the sky in search of richer beauty, (35)
the new moon in the form of lotus-stems,
joining the points of its crescent, has placed itself
on your arm lovely as a śyāmā-vine.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I cannot see very well; the pollen-dust from the lily at my ear shaken by the breeze, has fallen into my eye blurring my sight.
KING (with a smile) : If you permit me, I can blow it away.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : That would be kind . . . but. . . what if I don’t trust you?
KING : Why not? A new servant does not overstep his master’s instructions.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : It is just this excess of gallantry that I can’t quite trust.
KING (to himself) : I am certainly not going to pass up an opportunity so pleasant, to minister to her comfort. (about to raise her face up to his, Śakuntalā resists at first, then gives up)
KING : O, you with your intoxicating eyes, why don’t you stop suspecting me of dishonourable behaviour. (Śakuntalā glances up at him, then hangs her head)
KING (raising her face lightly with two fingers, to himself) :
My love’s lower lip, soft and unbruised, (36)
trembles with such alluring charm
as if granting me who thirst for it
the permission I wait for eagerly.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : My lord is taking his time to do what he promised, it seems.
KING : The lily adorning your ear, sweet lady, was confusing me by its likeness to your eye to which it lies so close. (blows the pollen dust away)
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I can now see clearly. But I am sorry, my lord, I have no way of returning the kind favour you have done me.
KING : No matter, there is no need to, beautiful lady!
To inhale the fragrance of your face (37)
is itself a favour granted to me;
is the honey-bee not well-content
with the mere fragrance of the lotus?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (with a smile) : But if it were not, what would he* do?
KING (decisively brings his face close to hers) : This . . . this . . .
(A voice off-stage) : Little bride of the sheldrake, come bid your mate farewell; Night is here.34
ŚAKUNTALĀ (flustered) : My lord! Lady Gautamī is on her way here, to ask after my health, I’m sure. Hide behind this tangle of vines.
KING : Yes. (goes into a secret place)
Gautamī enters with a goblet in her hand.
GAUTAMĪ : My child! Here is the sanctified water for you. (looks at her and helps her up) A fine state of affairs . . . unwell, and only the gods to keep you company.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Priyamvadā and Anasūyā went down just this minute to the Mālinī.
GAUTAMī (sprinkling Śakuntalā with the holy water) : Dear child, may you live long and in good health. Is your fever somewhat abated now? (touches her)
ŚAKUNTALĀ : There is a change for the better, Mother.
GAUTAMĪ : The day is drawing to its close; come, child, let us return to our cottage.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (rising with difficulty, to herself) : O heart! At first you drew back like a coward, fearing to taste the happiness that came knocking at your door. Now to your great regret, the time of parting has come; how bitter is your anguish. O fragrant bower of creepers! Soother of my anguish! I bid you farewell and take leave of you only to meet again and enjoy your company, (leaves)
KING (returning to his former seat and sighing deeply) : O misery! Many a hindrance lies between desire and its fulfilment:
She turned aside that lovely face (38)
with beautifully-lashed eyes:
again and again she guarded with her fingers
her lower lip, all the more tempting
for the faltering words of denial
murmured indistinct:
after much gentle persuasion
I raised her face to mine—
but could not kiss it, alas!
Where, where shall I go now? No, I shall stay right here; here in the bower of creepers where my beloved rested. (looks round)
Here on the stone-slab is the bed of flowers (39)
crushed by her body; here lies languishing
her message of love confided to the lotus-leaf;
an ornament of fine lotus-stalks, banished
from her hand lies there pathetic, abandoned;
my eyes cling to each object that I see;
how can I leave this arbour of reeds
all of a sudden, deserted though it be.
(reflecting) Alas! It was surely a mistake on my part to have delayed and wasted time once I had won my beloved. So now:
When next I find myself alone with her (40)
—that girl with a face of chiselled loveliness—
I’ll lose no time: for happiness, as a rule,
is hard to come by: thus my foolish heart,
frustrated by stumbling-blocks, spells it out.
But, in the beloved’s presence,
it stands somewhat abashed.
(A voice in the air) : O, King!
The evening rituals are in solemn progress; (41)
flesh-eating demons prowl and press round the altars
where the Holy Fire blazes.
Like massed thunder-clouds that reflect the sunset glow,
their shadowy forms, lurid,
move around in many ways
fear-instilling.
KING (listens, then resolutely speaks) : Ho there, ascetics . . . do not fear . . . here I am . . . I am coming.
(Leaves.)
End of Act Three
entitled
LOVE’S FRUITION
Scene: The Hermitage.
ANASŪYĀ: Priyamvadā, although I rejoice greatly knowing that Śakuntalā is happily married to a husband of her own choice who is worthy of her in every respect, I feel rather uneasy about something.
PRIYAMVADĀ: And what may that be?
ANASŪYĀ: The Royal Sage has been given leave to depart by the sages grateful for the successful completion of the Sacrifice; and he has returned to his Capital. Now, in the company of his Queens, will he remember all that happened here in the Hermitage . . . or will he not?
PRIYAMVADĀ: O, surely you should not feel uneasy on that score; such a noble form cannot house a nature so totally at variance with it. But I am anxious about something else; how will Father take it when he hears of all this on his return?
ANASŪYĀ: If you ask me, this marriage will be sealed with Father’s approval and blessing.
PRIYAMVADĀ: Why do you think that?
ANASŪYĀ: It is the paramount consideration in the mind of a parent to give a young daughter in marriage to a groom endowed with all noble qualities. If the gods themselves send one without any effort on the part of the parent, would he not congratulate himself on being most fortunate?
PRIYAMVADĀ (looks into the basket): Anasūyā, don’t you think we have picked enough flowers for the worship of the divinities of the home?
ANASŪYĀ : But we also need some flowers for the adoration of Śakuntalā’s Goddess of Fortune who watches over her marriage.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Yes, you are right.
(A voice off-stage rings out): Ho there, I am here, at your door!
ANASŪYĀ (listening carefully): That sounds like a guest announcing himself.
PRIYAMVADĀ: Surely Śakuntalā is not far from the cottage; Ah . . . hm . . . but I’m afraid her heart is far away.
ANASŪYĀ: Then we must go; these flowers will do.
(The same voice off-stage rings out again): Woe to you, woe, you insolent girl who disregards the honoured guest standing at your door.
You who do not notice me, (1)
a hoard of holy merit
standing at your door,
because you are lost in thoughts of one
to the exclusion of all else,
you shall be lost in his thoughts:
though you goad his memory hard,
he shall fail to remember you,
even as a man drunk remembers not
thereafter, the tale he told before.
PRIYAMVADĀ: Alas, alas, the worst has happened. Our darling Śakuntalā, absent-minded, has offended some guest worthy of great reverence.
ANASŪYĀ (looking ahead): And it is not just any guest, O cruel Fate! It is the great sage Durvāsā quick to anger. Look where he is going after cursing her so cruelly . . . striding off briskly shaking with passion; it will not be easy to intercept him.
PRIYAMVADĀ: What has the power to burn other than Fire? You must go quickly, Anasūyā; fall at his feet and try to calm him down while I hurry and get water and a guest-offering to welcome him.
ANASŪYĀ: Yes, I am going, (goes out in haste)
PRIYAMVADĀ (takes a few hurried steps, then stumbles): O, an ill omen! This is what comes of hurrying. The basket has slipped from my hand and the flowers lie all scattered on the ground. I had better pick them up. (starts picking up the flowers)
ANASŪYĀ (entering): O my friend, anger incarnate that he is, do you think he is one to accept anyone’s entreaties? But I managed to squeeze a little compassion out of the old crust.
PRIYAMVADĀ (smiling): Even that ‘little’ is a lot for him; what happened, tell me.
ANASŪYĀ: When he peremptorily refused to turn back, I pleaded with him in these words: ‘Most Venerable Holiness, your daughter is unaware of the great power you possess through your austerities; this is also her very first offence; considering these, please, revered Sir, forgive her.’
PRIYAMVADĀ: Then what did he say, go on.
ANASŪYĀ: He said: ‘My curse cannot prove false; but its power will cease the moment she presents some ornament as a token of recognition.’ With these words he vanished into thin air.
PRIYAMVADĀ: At least we can console ourselves a little with that. There is a token. When the Royal Sage was taking leave of Śakuntalā, he slipped the signet-ring with his name inscribed on it on her finger, as a remembrance. She does have in her possession the means of ensuring recognition.
PRIYAMVADĀ: Look, Anasūyā, do you see our dearest friend there? Still, as if drawn in a picture, her cheek resting on her left hand . . . her mind so totally absorbed in thoughts of her absent lord that she does not seem to be aware of her own self . . . how could she have noticed the presence of a visitor.
ANASŪYĀ: I tell you what; let us keep this matter of the curse between our two selves. Delicate by nature, our dear friend should be spared a shock.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Naturally, who would sprinkle a tender jasmine with boiling water.
(Both leave.)
End of the Prelude
Enter a pupil of Kaṇva, just got up from sleep.
PUPIL: I have been asked by His Holiness, just returned from his pilgrimage, to look out and see what time it is. Let me go out into the open and ascertain how much of the night remains, (turns and looks around) O, it is daybreak already, I see.
Here, the moon, lord of healing herbs (2)
sinks behind the western mountain,
there, on the other, Dawn heralds
the advance of the rising Sun.
The rise and setting of the two Lights simultaneous
regulate the vicissitudes of life on earth.
And further,
Now that the Moon has set, the pool of moon-lotuses (3)
delights not my eye—her beauty is but a memory.
the grief of women left alone when loved ones
travel far are beyond measure hard to bear.
See how:
Daybreak’s rose-red glow flushes the dew on the jujube trees (4)
the peacock wakened leaves the cottage roof of darbha-grass;
the blackbuck springs up from the altar’s edge, hoof-marked,
stretches his limbs and draws himself up to his noble height.
And now:
The same moon who, stepping on the crown of Sumeru, (5)
Parent of Mountains, dispelled the darkness, and traversed
the middle regions of Viṣṇu’s abode,
now falls down the sky in a pitiful glimmer of light:
the ascent too high of even the great ends in a fall.
ANASŪYĀ (to herself): Even one unacquainted with the ways of the world cannot help thinking that the King has behaved badly towards our Śakuntalā.
PUPIL: Well, I had better go now and inform our Preceptor that it is time for the oblations to the Sacred Fire, (he departs)
ANASŪYĀ: Dawn is breaking. I have woken up early. But now that I am awake, what is there for me to do? My hands refuse to go about their normal morning duties. Let the god of love be now happy since he has brought my pure-hearted friend into contact with a perfidious man. On the other hand, the Royal Sage may not be to blame. Perhaps, Durvāsā’s curse is working itself out. Otherwise, how is it possible that after all the protestations he made, the king has not sent word to her in all this time? (reflects a moment) Then, shall we send him the Ring he left for remembrance? But with whom? Which of these austere hermits, serene and devoid of passions can we ask? And we can’t get our friend into trouble by informing Father Kaṇva that Śakuntalā is married to Duhṣanta and now bears his child. In such a situation what can we do?
PRIYAMVADĀ: Anasūyā, Anasūyā, come quickly, hurry; the festive ceremonies for Śakuntalā’s departure are on.
ANASŪYĀ: What? What is all this? (astonished)
PRIYAMVADĀ: Listen, just now I went to Śakuntalā’s bedside to ask if she had slept well.
ANASŪYĀ: Then, then?
PRIYAMVADĀ: What do I see: Father Kaṇva, embracing Śakuntalā whose head was bowed low as if in shame, was felicitating her saying: ‘Fortunately, my child, even though the smoke was blinding the sacrificer’s eyes, the oblation he made fell right into the Fire.35 You are like knowledge imparted to a good pupil—not to be regretted. I shall arrange to send you to your husband this very day with an escort of ascetics.’
ANASŪYĀ (astonished): But who informed Father Kaṇva of all that had happened during his absence?
PRIYAMVADĀ: As he was entering the Sanctuary of the Mystic Fire, a bodiless voice chanted a verse.
ANASŪYĀ: Repeat it to me.
PRIYAMVADĀ (speaks in Sanskrit in the metre of the sacred texts) :
is with the Mystic Fire pregnant,
so is your daughter;
know, O Great Brāhmaṇa,
she holds Duhṣanta’s glowing energy
pledged for the well-being of the world.
ANASŪYĀ (embracing Priyamvadā, ecstatically): O, what great news; I am happy, happy beyond all measure; yet, my mind is poised between joy and regret; regret that dear Śakuntalā will be leaving this very day.
PRIYAMVADĀ: We shall get over our regrets soon enough; let the poor girl taste some happiness.
ANASŪYĀ : Of course. It is for such an occasion that I put away a garland of Kesara flowers whose fragrance is lasting; there it is, in that casket of palm leaves hanging over there from a branch of the mango tree. Will you take it down and wrap it in lotus leaves while I go and prepare all the auspicious materials for Śakuntalā’s adornment: yellow orpiment, holy earth, and Dūrvā sprouts? (goes out)
(A voice back-stage) : Gautamī, bid Śārṇgarava and the other hermits get ready to escort Śakuntalā.
PRIYAMVADĀ : Anasūyā, hurry, hurry. They are calling the hermits who are to escort Śakuntalā to the Capital.
PRIYAMVADĀ (looks ahead) : Anasūyā, there, do you see Śakuntalā, her hair freshly washed at sunrise with hallowed water. She is surrounded by the wives of sages who are congratulating her and invoking blessings holding grains of wild rice sanctified by prayers in their hands. Let us go and join them.
Śakuntalā is seen seated with Lady Gautamī and wives of sages.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I bow to you all, revered ladies.
GAUTAMĪ : Daughter, may your lord confer on you the title of Chief Queen36 as a mark of his high esteem.
SAGES’ WIVES : Child, may you give birth safely to a son who will be a hero.
FRIENDS (approaching her) : May the Holy Bath shower all happiness on you, dear Śakuntalā.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Welcome, welcome to my dearest friends; sit near me, both of you, won’t you.
FRIENDS : Now sit still while we apply the auspicious adorments on your person.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I value this affectionate service you do me today more than I did at any other time. When will I be adorned again by my dear friends? (weeps)
FRIENDS : Dearest friend, you should not weep on such a happy occasion as this, (wipe away her tears and begin to apply the decorations on her face)
PRIYAMVADĀ : These simple adornments are all we have in the Hermitage; they do no justice to your beauty that richly deserves fine jewels and adornments to set it off.
BOY : Here are rich ornaments to adorn Lady Śakuntalā.
GAUTAMĪ : Hārīta, my child, where did you get these?
HĀRĪTA : I found them, Lady, through Father Kaṇva’s favour.
GAUTAMĪ : Created by his mind-power?
HĀRĪTA : No, not quite; he directed me saying: ‘Go, bring lovely blossoms from the great forest trees for Śakuntalā adornment.’ So I went:
A certain tree produced as if by magic (7)
a garment of silk, pale-bright as moonbeams,
fitting for this most auspicious occasion;
another noble tree poured out rich rose-red juice
to tint beautifully her tender feet;
in the branches of other stately trees
woodland nymphs unseen, held out their hands
rivalling in beauty delicate leaf buds
unfurling, to offer rich gifts of rare jewels.
PRIYAMVADĀ (looking at Śakuntalā) : The Queen-bee though born in a tree-hollow deserves nothing less than the honey of the lotus.
GAUTAMĪ : Dear child, the bestowal of such rare gifts augurs well for the great honours that await you in the palace of your lord.
HĀRĪTA : I shall go now and inform Father Kaṇva who went down to the Mālinī for his ablutions, about this homage rendered him by the Lords of the Forest.
ANASŪYĀ : Śakuntalā, my friend, how can we adorn you? We are not used to handling such fine ornaments, (reflects for a moment) Drawing from our knowledge of paintings, we shall place these jewels on you as they should be.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (with a smile) : O, I know how clever you both are.
KAṆVA : Śakuntalā leaves us today—sobs my heart (8)
grief-stricken; unshed tears choke my voiceless throat;
a pale cast of troubled thoughts dims my very sight.
If affection can make me, a hermit grown old
in the forest’s hard school, so distraught,
O, how much more bitter must the anguish
of the first parting from a daughter be
to fathers who dwell in the heart of home and family.
FRIENDS : Śakuntalā, dear, you are now properly adorned; put on this pair of silk garments37 that have been blessed by prayer.
GAUTAMĪ : Look, dear child, your father is standing there, watching you as if he were embracing you with eyes brimming with happy tears. Greet him with due reverence.
KAṆVA : My beloved child:
Be held in high esteem by your lord (9)
as Śarmiṣtta was by Yayāti;
as she bore Puru, may you too bear
a son to whom the whole world will bow.
GAUTAMĪ : Worshipful Sir, this is a boon, not a blessing.
KAṆVA : Daughter, come, go round these sacred fires into which oblations have just been offered.
KAṆVA (chants, using a Vedic metre):
May these Sacrificial Fires (10)
ranged round the Holy Altar
that blaze fed with sacred wood
within the circle of strewn darbhā grass,
whose oblation-fragrant smoke
billows out chasing away
all evil, keep you good and pure.
My darling, now start on your journey. (Glancing around) Where are Śārṇgarava and his companions?
KAṆVA : Śārṇgarava, show your sister the way.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA: This way, come this way, gracious lady.
KAṆVA : Hear, O hear, all you noble trees of the Holy Grove with indwelling divinities:
She who never had a drink of water (11)
before you had all drunk your fill,
she who never plucked your tender buds
for love of you, though fond of adorning herself,
she to whom it was a joyous festival
when you first burst into bloom; she, Śakuntalā,
leaves us today for her husband’s home:
All grant her leave to go.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA:
Kin to her during her woodland sojourn (12)
the trees now give her leave to go,
answering your request, Sir, in the Koel’s notes.
Śakuntalā can now bid the grove farewell.
(Voices in the sky; invisible spirits sing) :
May her path be safe and gracious,38 (13)
as gentle breezes blow,
pleasant be her way dotted by lakes
where green lotus-creepers grow;
may the burning rays of the sun
filter mellowed through thick shade-trees;
let the pollen of water-lilies drift
to lie as softest dust beneath her feet.
GAUTAMĪ : Dear child, do you hear the divinities of the Holy Grove bidding you farewell in as loving a manner as your own kinsfolk? Bow to them with due reverence.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (walks around bowing, then speaks aside) : Oh! Priyamvadā, even though my heart yearns to see my lord once more, now that I am deserting the Hermitage, my feet move forward with painful reluctance.
PRIYAMVADĀ : The bitterness of parting is not yours alone; look around and see how the Holy Grove grieves, knowing the hour of parting from you is near:
The doe tosses out mouthfuls of grass, (14)
the peacocks dance no more:
pale leaves flutter down
as if the vines are shedding their limbs.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (recollecting) : O Father, I have to say goodbye to Mādhavī, my woodland sister.
KAṆVA : Yes, my child, I know how much you love her; here she is, to your right.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (coming close to the jasmine, throws her arms round it) : O, Mādhavī, beloved sister, twine your branching arms round me; from today, I shall be far, far away from you. Dear Father, do care for her as if she were me.
KAṆVA : My love,
What I had contemplated from the first for you, (15)
a worthy husband, by your own merits you have obtained.
Freed from needful care for you, I shall now make
the Mango by her side, the loving bridegroom of this vine.
So come this way and start on your journey.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (approaches her friends) : I leave her in your hands, dearest friends.
FRIENDS : And in whose care are you leaving us, dearest? (they burst into tears)
KAṆVA : O for shame, Anasūyā, Priyamvadā, dry your tears. It is at a time like this that Śakuntalā needs your support to be firm.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Father, you see that young doe keeping close to the cottage and moving very slowly because she is near her time—when she fawns safely, will you send someone to give me the happy news? You won’t forget, dear Father?
KAṆVA : I shall not forget that, my love.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (feeling something holding her back) : Hello! Who’s this at my heels, tugging again and again at the hem of my garment? (turns to look)
KAṆVA : My darling:
It is the little fawn, your adopted son, (16)
whom you fondly reared with handfuls of millet,
whose mouth you dabbed with healing ingudi oil
when lacerated by sharp blades of kuśa-grass:
It is he who will not move out of your path.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (addressing the fawn) : My fondling, why do you keep following me who abandons her companions? No sooner were you born than your mother died and I brought you up. Now, abandoned by me, it is Father who is left to take care of you. So go back, my little one, go back. (weeping, she moves on)
KAṆVA : O my child, do not weep like this; keep your chin up and see where you are going:
Brace your will and check this flow of welling tears (17)
that veil the light of those eyes with up-curving lashes;
your steps are faltering on the uneven ground
where your path winds, its ups and downs unnoticed.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Your Holiness, as you know, a loved one is to be accompanied only up to the water’s edge. And this, is the edge of the lake; so give us your instructions and turn back at this point.
KAṆVA : Well then, let us withdraw into the shade of this milk-bearing tree. (they retire into the shade of the fig-tree) Now . . . what would be a suitable message to send to His Honour Duhṣanta? (reflects deeply for a while)
ANASŪYĀ : Śakuntalā dearest, have you noticed that there is not one sentient being in the Hermitage that is not sorrowful now at the thought of losing you. See:
The cakravāka answers not the call of his love (18)
with lotus-fibre dangling from his beak,
he gazes only at you.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Ah ! Anasūyā, the cakravākī, not seeing her beloved companion just a lotus-leaf away from her, really shrills in distress . . . (fearful) . . . indeed . . . what a hard lot to bear . . .39
PRIYAMVADĀ :
She too spends the night away from her beloved, (19)
the night stretching out long from sorrow:
the heart’s heavy with the pain of parting,
but hope’s slender thread still supports it.
KAṆVA : Śārṇgarava, my son, present Śakuntalā to the good King with these words of mine . . .
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Command me, Your Holiness.
KAṆVA : Consider us, who are rich in self-restraint, (20)
and consider your own exalted lineage,
consider well her love, spontaneous,
that flowed towards you unprompted by her kin.
Regard her then as worth equal esteem
as your other consorts; more than that rests
on what Fortune has in store for her:
The bride’s kin ought not to speak of it.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : I have grasped the message, Your Holiness.
KAṆVA (addressing Śakuntalā) : My beloved child, I should now give you some advice. Though I am a forest-dweller, I am conversant with worldly matters.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : No matter is outside the purview of the wise, Your Holiness.
KAṆVA : My child, you are now leaving for your husband’s home; when you enter it:
Serve your elders with diligence; be a friend to your co-wives; (21)
even if wronged by your husband do not cross him through anger;
treat those who serve you with the utmost courtesy;
be not puffed up with pride by wealth and pleasures:
Thus do girls attain the status of mistress of the home;
those who act contrary are the bane of their families.
What does our Gautamī think of this?
GAUTAMĪ : The best advice for a young bride, (to Śakuntalā) Dear daughter, keep these precepts always in mind.
KAṆVA : My beloved child, come, embrace me and your two friends.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : O Father, will my dear friends have to turn back right here?
KAṆVA : My darling, they also have to be given in marriage. It would not be proper for them to go with you. Gautamī will accompany you.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (clasping her father in her arms) : Rent from my dear father’s lap like a sapling of the sandalwood tree uprooted from the side of the Malaya mountain, how can I ever survive in an alien soil? (weeps bitterly)
KAṆVA : O my darling, why ever are you so distressed?
Occupying the honoured place of consort (22)
to your nobly-descended lord, you will
each moment be engrossed in great affairs
consequent to his imperial estate:
And like the East the bright and holy sun
soon you will give birth to a royal son:
The grief of parting from me will then
count but little with you, my darling.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (falling at her father’s feet) : Father, I bow to you in reverence.
KAṆVA : My child, may all that I wish for you come true.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (coming close to her friends) : My dear, dear friends, hold me close, both of you together.
FRIENDS (embracing her) : Śakuntalā dear, listen, if the good King be at all slow to recognize you, be sure to show him the Ring inscribed with his name.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : You are voicing misgivings that make my heart tremble.
FRIENDS : No, no, don’t be afraid; affection always makes one over-anxious.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA (looking up) : The sun has mounted over the tree-tops, Your Holiness, the lady had better hurry.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (again throwing her arms round her father) : Dear Father, when shall I see this holy Hermitage again?
KAṆVA : When you have long been co-wife with this great Earth (23)
extending to the far horizons; and borne
Duhṣanta a son, a warrior unrivalled,
who shall bear the yoke of sovereignty,
then you shall set foot in this Hermitage
once more with your lord, seeking tranquillity.40
GAUTAMĪ : Daughter, the favourable time for starting your journey is fast going by. Let your father go back. No, she will not let him go for a long while. Your Honour had better turn back.
KAṆVA : My love, the performance of my holy rites is being interrupted.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Dear Father, the affairs of the Hermitage will keep you from missing me. But as for me, I am already beginning to miss you, Father.
KAṆVA : O, child, child, how could you think I would be so uncaring. (sighing deeply)
How can my grief ever leave me, (24)
O my beloved child, when I see
grains of wild rice already scattered by you
sprouting green shoots at the cottage door.
Go, my love, and may your path be blessed.
(Gautamī, Śārṇgarava and Śāradvata leave with Śakuntalā.)
FRIENDS (following Śakuntalā with their eyes for a long time speak sorrowfully) : Alas, alas, Śakuntalā is now hidden from view by a line of trees.
KAṆVA : Anasūyā, Priyamvadā, your friend and companion is gone. Check your grief and follow me.
(All leave.)
FRIENDS : O Father, we shall be entering the Holy Groves that will be desolate, bereft of Śakuntalā presence.
KAṆVA : Your great affection for her makes you feel this way. (walking about deliberating) O well, now that I have sent Śakuntalā away to her home, my mind is at peace. Consider it:
A daughter is wealth belonging to another; (25)
I have sent her this day to him who took her by the hand;
At once, my inner being is calm and clear, as if
I have restored what was left with me in trust.
End of Act Four
entitled
ŚAKUNTALĀ DEPARTURE
CHAMBERLAIN (sighing) : Alas, how the years have taken their toll of me.
This ceremonial staff of cane I took (1)
when chosen to head the Royal Household
has with the passage of time become
the support of my faltering steps.
I shall see His Majesty in the Inner Apartments to inform him of some business that he has to attend to himself immediately, (going a little way) Yes, but what was it? (pondering) Ah! I have it. Some ascetics, pupils of Kaṇva wish to see him. O, how strange!
Wakeful one moment, (2)
shrouded in darkness the next,
my ageing mind
is like the flame of a dying lamp.
(turns round and sees the King): Here is His Majesty,
Wearied caring for his subjects (3)
as if they were his own children,
he now seeks the peace of seclusion
as a lord of elephants who led his herd
to graze all day, burned by the noonday sun
finds at last a quiet, cool spot to rest.
To tell the truth I hesitate to tell His Majesty who has just risen from the seat of judgement that Kaṇva’s pupils are here. But then, where do the protectors of the earth find time to rest. That’s how it is,
The Sun yoked his coursers just that once; (4)
the fragrant wind blows night and day;
the Cosmic Serpent42 ever bears Earth’s burden;
And this is the Law that binds him who claims a sixth.
Turns around; then enter the King with the jester and retinue in order of rank.
KING (wearied by the burden of administrative duties) : Every man who gains the object of his desire is happy. Only to kings does the gain itself bring misery. For,
Attainment of sovereignty merely lays to rest (5)
the eager craving of expectancy; guarding
what is gained lays on one a weight of care.
Kingship, like an umbrella43 held in one’s own hand
tires more than it removes tiredness.
(Voices of two bards, off-stage) : Victory to our lord.
FIRST BARD :
Unmindful of your own ease, you toil (6)
each day for the world’s sake—such is your way of life;
the tree bares its crown to the blazing heat
while it refreshes those who shelter in its shade.
SECOND BARD :
Grasping the rod of justice, you bring to heel (7)
those who are set on evil paths; you bring calm
where contentions rage; and afford protection.
Where wealth abounds kinsmen come flocking.
But in you, O King, all find kinship’s perfect pattern.
KING (listening) : This is great; hearing these words have revived my spirits worn out by the task of governing the kingdom.
MĀDHAVYA : Tell the bull he is king of the herd and his tiredness disappears.
KING (with a smile) : Well, let’s sit down.
MĀDHAVYA (listening intently) : Listen carefully to the sounds coming from the Hall of Music, my friend. Do you hear the pure, clear tones of a lovely melody played on the vina, keeping perfect rhythm? I think it is Lady Hamsavatī practising her singing.
KING (listening) : Now be quiet, Mādhavya, and let me listen.
CHAMBERLAIN (watching the King) : Oho! His Majesty seems lost in deep thought. I had better wait for the right moment to approach him. (he stands on one side)
(A voice off-stage, singing) :
O you honey-pilfering bee! (8)
Greedy as ever for fresh honey,
once you lovingly kissed
the mango’s fresh spray of flowers—44
is she then forgotten so soon?
You are content now merely to stay
within the full-blown lotus.45
KING : O, how brimful of passion comes this song borne on the air.
MĀDHAVYA : So . . . you have understood every word of the song?
KING (smiling) : Yes; once I loved her deeply. She is taunting me now for my neglect of her. Mādhavya, my friend, do go to Queen Hamsavatī and tell her that I have taken to heart the reproof that she has conveyed so subtly.
MĀDHAVYA : As Your Honour commands, (gets up) Look here, my friend, you are getting someone else to catch a bear by its tail for you. Like a shaven monk still in the grip of passion, I have no hope of release.
KING : Come, come, my friend, speak to her like the cultivated man-about-town that you are.
MĀDHAVYA : I see; there seems to be no way out for me.
(He exits.)
KING (to himself) : That song I just heard . . . a restless, yearning sadness steals into my heart . . . though I am not separated from someone I love deeply. Or . . . can it be that:
When a sadness ineffable falls (9)
suddenly like a shadow over the heart
—even while one is wrapped in happiness—
the mind trills spontaneous, unknown to itself,
to an intimation from the past
quickened by some fleeting loveliness
or, haunting sounds of exquisite music heard:
lasting impressions of love’s remembrance
live on in us from former lives, perhaps,
clinging like fragrance to our migrant soul.
CHAMBERLAIN (approaching the King) : Victory, victory to His Majesty. Sire, some hermits who dwell in the forests at the foothills of the Himālayas are here with a message from Kaṇva; they are accompanied by women. Your orders, Sire.
KING (surprised) : What—hermits with a message from Kaṇva and accompanied by women, did you say?
CHAMBERLAIN : Yes, Sire.
KING : Send word to our Preceptor, Somarāta, requesting him to welcome the ascetics from the Hermitage with all due Vedic rites and then accompany them to our presence. I shall await their coming in a place suitable for receiving holy guests.
CHAMBERLAIN : Your commands, Sire, (he leaves)
KING (rising) : Vetravati, lead the way to the sanctuary of the Mystic Fire.
VETRAVATĪ : This way, Your Majesty, (turns around) Gracious Sire, here is the terrace of the Fire Sanctuary, newly washed and the cow that gives milk for the holy rites stands close by. Let His Majesty ascend the steps.
KING (mimes ascent and stands leaning on an attendant) : Vetravatī, I wonder why sage Kaṇva has sent these sages to our presence.
Has the penance of sages of strict vows, (10)
possessed of spiritual energy immense
been defiled perchance by impediments?
Or has someone practised evil on creatures
roaming free in the Groves of Righteousness?
Or—has some misdeed46 of my own, alas!
Stopped the flowering of plants? My mind’s bewildered
in the face of so many possible guesses.
VETRAVATĪ : How could this be, in a hermitage free from trouble, defended by your arm? It is my guess that the sages highly pleased with Your Majesty’s noble conduct have come to honour you.
CHAMBERLAIN : This way, this way, honoured ones.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Śāradvata, my friend:
Granted, this King of unblemished nobleness (11)
does not swerve from the path of rectitude;
true, none of his subjects, even those
in the lowliest walks of life, resort to evil ways;
even so, my mind enjoying continual solitude,
prompts me to view this place thronged with people
as a house encircled by blazing fires.
ŚĀRADVATA : You have become deeply disturbed from the moment we entered the city. It is understandable, for I feel the same:47
As a man freshly bathed views one smeared with oil, (12)
as one pure the impure, as one wakeful the sleeper,
as one who can move freely sees one in bondage,
thus I, freed of the world’s will, regard these, bound to the world.
HIGH PRIEST : Therefore persons like you are great.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (feeling a bad omen) : O you gods! What means this throbbing of my right eye?
GAUTAMĪ : May all evil be averted; and may happiness always attend you.
HIGH PRIEST (pointing in the King’s direction) : O holy sages! There is His Honour, the protector of the four estates; risen already from his seat he waits for you. Behold him.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Most commendable, I grant you, O great Brāhmaṇa; even so, we view it all with an equal eye:
Trees bend down when laden with fruit; (13)
rain clouds filled with water
hang low almost to the ground;
wealth does not make the good haughty:
this is the true nature
of those who do good to others.
VETRAVATĪ : From the serene expression on their faces, it is evident that the sages have come on a mission of goodwill.
KING (looking at Śakuntalā) : That lady?
Who may she be, standing veiled, I wonder, (14)
the loveliness of her form, like a bud
not burst into bloom, is barely-revealed;
she appears in the midst of ascetics,
a tender sprout among yellowing leaves.
VETRAVATĪ : Surely she does appear to be very beautiful, worth looking at, Sire.
KING : Enough, it is highly improper to stare at another’s wife.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (laying a hand on her bosom, speaks to herself) : Why are you trembling, O heart? Remembering the love my lord has for me, calm yourself.
HIGH PRIEST (coming forward) : Good Fortune attend you, Sire; the sages have been honoured with all due rites. They have a message for you from their Preceptor. Will Your Majesty be pleased to hear it?
KING : I am all attention.
SAGES (approaching the King, they raise their hands in blessing) : May the King be ever victorious!
KING (with folded hands) : I greet you all.
SAGES: Good Fortune attend you.48
KING : Do the penances prosper?
SAGES: While you protect the virtuous (15)
who dares disrupt their pious rites?
When the bright sun blazes bright
can darkness show its face?
KING (to himself) : By this praise, my title of ruler gains its true meaning. (aloud) Is Sage Kaṇva in good health?
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : The well-being of those who have attained superhuman powers lies in their own control. He makes kind enquiries of Your Honour’s good health and then addresses you thus. . .
KING : What are the commands of His Holiness?
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : You took her, my daughter, in secret, as your wife; pleased, I have assented to the marriage.
We regard you as foremost among those of high worth (16)
and Śakuntalā is Virtue’s embodiment;
having brought together a bride and groom of equal merit,
the Creator after a long time incurs no reproach.49
She bears your child; so take her as your lawful wife and partner in all religious duties.
GAUTAMĪ : Gracious Sir, I wish to say a few words at this point, though it is not my place to speak.
KING : Speak freely, Lady.
You did not approach the elders in the matter, (17)
She did not seek advice from her kinsfolk;
when it was all agreed upon between you two,
what in the world can one say to either?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : What will my lord say now?
KING (listens to all this with his mind troubled by doubts) : What kind of proposition is this that is being placed before me?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : Ha! His words are fire in my ears.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : What means this? This talk of a proposition being placed before you? Your Honour is doubtless quite conversant with the ways of the world.
The world suspects even the most virtuous woman (18)
as otherwise, when with her husband living,
the parental home becomes her sole resort:
hence, her kinsfolk wish that she be beside him
who took her by the hand as his wife,
be she dear to him, or be she not.
KING : Are you saying that this lady is already married to me?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (despondent, to herself) : O, my heart, your fears are proving true.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA :
Is this revulsion from a deed done? (19a)
Or disregard for one’s own actions?
KING : This is a case of proceeding on a wrong assumption.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA:
Such fickleness generally swells (19b)
and comes to a head in those drunk with power.
KING : I am being taken to task too harshly.
GAUTAMĪ : Daughter, lay aside your bashfulness for a while; let me remove your veil. Your lord will not fail to recognize you then.
KING (gazing ardently at Śakuntalā, speaks to himself with astonished admiration):
This glowing lovelineṣs that is proffered unsought, (20)
was this held by me once as my own, or not?
My mind hovers uncertain, like a bee
circling at daybreak over the jasmine’s dew-filled cup.
I cannot permit myself to possess it;
nor can I bring myself to relinquish it.
VETRAVATĪ (to herself) : O, admirable is His Majesty’s regard for right action. Who else would stop to consider right from wrong, when such beauty comes sweetly on its own and offers itself?
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : O King, what means this silence?
KING : O, hermits, rich in holiness, try as I might, I cannot recall to my mind accepting the hand of this lady in marriage at any time. Seeing that she is plainly pregnant, how can I receive her when I have doubts about being the husband?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (aside) : Alas, my cruel fate! Even the marriage is now in doubt; where are all those high-mounting hopes of mine?
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Then don’t:
Assenting gladly to your seizure of his daughter (21)
the good sage makes you worthy of such a gift,
as a robber is offered the goods he seized:
for this he deserves your refusal—does he not?
ŚĀRADVATA : That is enough Śārṇgarava; cease expostulating. Śakuntalā, we have said what we had to say; the King has spoken as he has. Now, it is for you to give a fitting reply.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : What can I say? When such a love has suffered such a change, what use is it reminding him of it now? On the other hand, I should defend myself and clear my name, (aloud) Dear Lord, (stops in the middle) no . . . my right to address you as such has been questioned. Prince of the Purus! In the Hermitage you deceived me, a simple girl, trusting and open by nature; then you made a solemn compact . . . now . . . to disown me with such words . . . is this becoming of you?
KING (stopping his ears) : Perish the sinful thought.
Why are you out to sully your family’s honour, (22)
and to make me fall; you are like a river
that crumbles its banks to muddy its crystal stream,
and uproots the tree growing by its edge.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : If you are proceeding in this manner under the impression that I am another man’s wife, I can remove your suspicions by showing this highly-prized token.
KING : A proper procedure.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (feeling for the ring) : Ha! I am lost. The Ring is missing from my finger.
GAUTAMĪ : The Ring must have slipped off and fallen into the water when you immersed yourself in holy Śacī’s Pool50 next to Indra’s Landing.
KING (smiles ironically) : A good example of the ready wit that is womankind’s gift.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Alas, Fate shows its inexorable power. But I shall relate something, an incident.
KING : Ah, now we have something that is to be heard.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : You do remember that day in the bower of canes covered by vines—you held a cup of lotus leaves filled with water?
KING : I am listening.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Just at that moment, the little fawn, my adopted son, whom I had named ‘Liquid Long-eyes’ came trotting up. Feeling affectionate towards him, you held the cup out saying, ‘let him drink first’ and coaxed him to drink. But he would not come near, because you were a stranger to him. When I took the cup from you and held it in my hand, he was happy to drink. And you laughed saying ‘One trusts one’s own kind, you are both creatures of the woods’.
KING (laughs sarcastically) : By such honeyed words are pleasure-loving men lured by young women out to gain their own ends.
GAUTAMĪ : Gracious Prince, you should not speak to her like that. Brought up in a sacred grove, this girl is a stranger to guile.
KING : Ascetic matron, listen:
Intuitive cunning is seen even in females (23)
of lower creatures: what then of those
endowed with reason and understanding:
the cuckoo, as we know, has her young reared
by other birds before they take to the air.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (in anger) : Ignoble man! You who are like a well covered with grass . . . you judge every one by the measure of your own heart . . . who would stoop to imitate your conduct . . . practising falseness while putting on the mantle of virtue?
KING : The lady’s anger is real—the spontaneous outburst of one who lives in the green world.
Her eyes red with anger look straight at me, (24)
her words flung out harsh, not smoothed into a drawl;
her lower lip like a ripe bimba-fruit
is all quivering as if struck by an icy blast;
her eyebrows, graceful curves,
knot together in a twisting frown.
Further, her anger fell concentrated on me whose mind is clouded over with uncertainties. Therefore,
When I cruelly denied our secret love (25)
then did she dart flaming glances on me,
fiercely bending the graceful curve of her brow,
it seemed she snapped the bow of Love itself.
(aloud) Gracious lady, Duhṣanta’s life lies an open book before his subjects; it’s there for you to read too.
ŚAKUNTALĀ: O, so,
You are the sole measure, and you, only you know (26)
the firm Rule of Righteousness for the world;
women, who have set aside their modesty,
they understand nothing—they know nothing, is it?
Very well; so be it; putting my trust in the fame of Puru’s lineage, I have fallen into the clutches of a man whose mouth is honey, but whose heart is stone . . . and now, I am made out to be a self-willed wanton, (she covers her face with the end of her veil and weeps)
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Thus does unbridled impulse destroy a person.
Therefore, a marriage, specially one made in secret (27)
should be contracted after careful scrutiny;
affection quickly turns to hate in hearts
that have known each other but slenderly.
KING : O, Sir, you are hurling words of concentrated anger upon me, relying only on the testimony of this lady here.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA (disdainfully) : O no, that would be quite preposterous, would it not?
The words of one who from birth (28)
has grown up uninstructed in deceit,
should carry no weight; but those who study
the deception of others as an esteemed art,51
are infallible speakers of truth.
KING : O, speaker of truth, supposing we are as you say we are, what is gained, do you think, by deceiving her?
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Downfall.
KING : This is incredible; would the Pauravas court their own downfall?
ŚĀRADVATA : O King, why this bandying of words? We have carried out our Preceptor’s orders; we shall leave presently.
This then, is your wife, accept her, or abandon her; (29)
a husband’s dominion over his wife is absolute.
Gautamī, lead the way.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (calling outpiteously) : What’s this; here I am, betrayed by this cheat; are you also abandoning me?
GAUTAMĪ (stopping) : Son, Sārṇgarava, here is Śakuntalā following us, wailing pitifully. Cruelly repudiated by her husband, what can the poor child do?
ŚĀRṆGARAVA (turning back) : You forward girl, are you asserting your independence?
ŚĀRṆGARAVA :
If you are what the King says you are, (30)
what will your father have to do with you—
a stain on his family? But, as you know
your own conduct to be pure, even servitude
in your husband’s house will be welcome to you.
Stay here; we are leaving.
KING : O ascetic! Why do you give this lady false hopes?
The moon wakes only night-blooming lilies, (31)
the sun day-lotuses only:
the man with mastery over his passions
turns away from the touch of another’s wife.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA : Assuming that Your Honour has forgotten past events through impressions created by fresh interests, why this fear on your part of losing your virtue?
KING : Very well, I shall ask you this; you tell me, which is the greater and which the lesser evil of the two?
Am I deluded, or, is she false? (32)
this is the question: should I incur
the blame of forsaking my own wife,
or the stain of adultery, alas,
with the wife of another?
HIGH PRIEST (after some thought) : Supposing we do it this way.
KING : Instruct me, Your Reverence.
HIGH PRIEST : Let the gracious lady who is with child, stay in my house till she gives birth. I shall tell you why I suggest this: the seers have already foretold that your first-born is destined to be Sovereign of the World. If the sage’s daughter should give birth to a son bearing all the marks of sovereignty on his person, then, offering her your felicitations, receive her into your Royal Apartments; if it turns out otherwise then the only thing to do is to take her back to her father.
KING : As my revered Preceptor deems right.
HIGH PRIEST : Child, follow me.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (weeping) : O gracious Goddess, Mother Earth, open wide and take me in.
(Exit the sages and Śakuntalā with the High Priest.)
(A voice off-stage) : O, a marvel, a marvel has occurred.
KING : What could this be?
The High Priest enters in great astonishment.
HIGH PRIEST : My lord, something quite marvellous has just occurred. king : What is it?
HIGH PRIEST : No sooner had Kaṇva’s disciples left on their journey back than:
The young girl cursing her stars, (33a)
wept aloud, flinging her hands up.
KING : And then?
HIGH PRIEST :
A flash of light in a woman’s shape (33b)
from Apsarā Pool, snatched her up
and vanished straightaway.
KING : Reverence, we have already settled this matter and dismissed it; what is the point of pursuing it further? Your Honour may go and rest.
HIGH PRIEST : Be victorious.
(Exits.)
KING : Vetravatī, I am deeply disturbed; lead the way to my sleeping-chamber.
VETRAVATĪ : This way, this way, my lord.
KING (to himself) :
I have spurned the sage’s daughter, it is true, (34)
having no recollection of marrying her;
yet, the poignant ache in my heart validates
it seems, the truth of her assertion that I had.
(All exit.)
End of Act Five
entitled
THE REPUDIATION OF ŚAKUNTALĀ
Scene: Duhṣanta’s Capital.
POLICEMEN (beating the prisoner) : Hey, you thief! Tell us how you came by this Royal Signet-Ring set with a priceless gem and the King’s name engraved round it in the setting. Come on, tell us.
MAN (in great fear) : O, please worthy Sirs, please; I am no thief, indeed I am not.
FIRST POLICEMAN : O, is that so? Did the King then give this Ring to you as a gift? Because he regarded you highly as some distinguished Brahmin?
MAN : Please Sir, listen to me; I am but a poor fisherman living at Śakrāvatāra.
SECOND POLICEMAN : You foul thief! Did we ask where you lived or what you lived by?
CHIEF : Sūcaka, let him tell his story in his own way, from the beginning, in order; and don’t interrupt him, either of you.
POLICEMEN : As Your Honour commands, Sir. Speak, vermin, speak.
MAN : Well, worthy Sirs, I support my family by catching fish with hooks and nets and other such devices, Sirs.
CHIEF (laughing) : A most clean and virtuous livelihood, I’m sure.
MAN : O Master, do not laugh at my trade.
For it’s said, a fellow shouldn’t give up (1)
the trade he’s born to, however low it may be,
the most soft-hearted of butchers engages
in the cruel job of slaughtering animals.
CHIEF : Yes, yes, go on.
MAN : One day as I am cutting up this big carp into pieces, what do I see lying in its belly—O Sirs, I see this Ring, its huge gem flashing. Then, Sirs, as I am hawking it around here, hoping, of course, for a good sale—I am then seized by these worthy masters. That’s all I’ve to tell you as to how I got this Ring. Now, either you kill me, or, you set me free.
CHIEF (sniffing the Ring) : O yes, it’s been in a fish’s belly alright; such a stink of raw fish pours out of it. But—how it got into that damn fish in the first place—that has to be carefully investigated. So come; to the palace we must go now.
POLICEMEN : Yes, Your Honour. Move, cut-purse, move it, quick.
CHIEF : Sūcaka, you two look sharp and wait here for me at the tower-gate, while I go in to the Palace and inform the King about finding this Ring and return with his Majesty’s orders.
POLICEMEN : Yes, Your Honour. Go in, Your Honour, where royal favour awaits you.
(The Chief goes out.)
SŪCAKA (after a while) : His Honour has been away quite a while, it seems, Jānuka.
JĀNUKA : O you know how one has to wait and approach a king at just the right moment.
SŪCAKA : I tell you, my friend, my hands, they just itch to finish off this cut-purse.
FISHERMAN : O Sir, you wouldn’t want to kill someone without good reason, would you now?
JĀNUKA (looking) : There is our Chief coming towards us with a letter in his hand; that must be the Royal Decree, (to the fisherman) Hey you, fellow, you will either make your acquaintance soon with the fangs of bloodhounds or become an offering to vultures.52
CHIEF (entering) : Quickly, make haste, this . . .
FISHERMAN (cuts in, terrified, before the sentence is completed) : O misery, misery, I am done for . . .
CHIEF : Hey you, release him, fellows; release the fisherman, I say. It is now quite clear how the Ring came into his hands.
SŪCAKA : As you command, Your Honour, (unties the bonds)
JĀNUKA : You might say that this man entered Death’s kingdom and returned, mightn’t you?
FISHERMAN : O, Master, I owe my life to you. (falls at his feet)
CHIEF : Get up, you, and here, take this; the King has graciously ordered that this reward, equal in value to the Ring, be given to you. (gives him money)
FISHERMAN (accepting it with a deep bow) : Your Honour, I am most highly favoured.
SŪCAKA : Indeed, you might well describe it as a favour. For here is a man who has been taken off the point of an impaling stake and set on the back of an elephant.53
JĀNUKA : Your Honour, the princely reward indicates that His Majesty must set great store by this Ring with its priceless gem.
CHIEF : Hm . . . no, I don’t think it was the rare gem that mattered so much to his Majesty.
BOTH POLICEMEN : Then what?
CHIEF : Somehow, I got the impression that the Ring made His Majesty remember someone he had loved very much . . . because, as soon as he saw it—for a moment he was much moved—and by nature, His Majesty is very poised and dignified.
SŪCAKA : A great service has then been done to His Majesty by Your Honour.
JĀNUKA : To this enemy of little fishes here, I’d say. (glares resentfully at the fisherman)
FISHERMAN (taking the hint) : Worshipful Master, let half of this be yours—drink-money, Sirs.
JĀNUKA : Fisherman, as of this very instant, you have become my very best friend. The beginning of such a friendship should be pledged with some good flower-wine. Come, let us go to the tavern.
(All exit.)
End of Prelude
Scene: The Pleasure Gardens attached to the Royal Apartments.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Having completed my spell of duty guarding Apsarā Pool during the season of pilgrimage to its sacred waters by pious devotees, I have a little time now to see with my own eyes how it goes with the Royal Sage. Śakuntalā is like my own flesh and blood because of my great friendship with Menakā; and Menakā had requested me earlier to do this for the sake of her daughter, (looking around) How is it that no preparations are seen in the palace-grounds for the commencement of the season’s festivities?54 And today is the day of the Festival? Sure, I have the ability of knowing all that goes on through exercising my powers of mental contemplation; but, out of respect for my friend’s high regard for me, I should see it all myself. Therefore, making myself invisible, I shall stay close behind these two girls who seem to be employed to tend the gardens, and learn what has been happening here. (alights on the ground and waits)
FIRST GIRL :
O Mango-Blossom, turning from rich copper (2)
to pale-green! O loveliness
breathed by Spring’s first fragrant month!
Hail to you! My eyes have been blessed with a sight of you,
auspicious harbinger of the Festival!
SECOND GIRL (approaching) : Hallo there, Parabhrtikā!* What are you muttering to yourself?
PARABHRTIKĀ : Ah, my friend, seeing the spray of mango blossom, the little cuckoo is intoxicated—mad.
SECOND GIRL (with joy) : You mean Spring is already here?
FIRST GIRL : Yes, Madhukarikā,* it is now your time to dance with glancing movements and sing your rapturous melodies.
MADHUKARIKĀ : Let me have your support, dear friend, so that I can stand on tiptoe and pluck one little mango blossom and offer it in worship to the God of Love.
PARABHṚTIKĀ : Certainly, if half the fruit of the worship is mine.
MADHUKARIKĀ : O my dear friend, do you have to ask in so many words . . . when our hearts are one, though our bodies may divide us? (leaning on her friend, she plucks a mango flower) Ah! How exquisite! Even though this bud hasn’t opened its eye as yet, the snapping of its stalk releases a divine perfume, (folds her hands together in prayer) O Lord Love! O dolphin-bannered God! I bow before you.
O Mango-blossom, here, I offer you to Love (3)
who already holds his bow firmly in his hand;
may this flower be the most potent
of his five flower-arrows, to aim,
at the young wives of men who travel far.
(tosses the flower up in the air)
CHAMBERLAIN : You there, stop, you impudent girl; what do you think you are doing, plucking mango buds when His Majesty has expressly forbidden the celebration of the Spring Festival.
BOTH (alarmed) : Please, Your Honour, we had not heard about it.
CHAMBERLAIN : Hm . . . so, you have not heard about it, is it? . . . When even the trees that bloom in the Spring, and the birds nesting in them, seem to have . . . and show their respect for His Majesty’s decree? Just look around:
The Mango has long since put out its wealth of buds, (4)
but the pollen does not gather golden within:
the amaranth is all set for blossom-time,
but the buds still linger, tight-folded in their sheaths.
though winter is past, the melodious koel,
strangles in his throat his rich burst of song:
even Love hovers uncertain, withdraws timidly,
his arrow half-drawn out of the quiver.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Now there is no room for doubt; the Royal Sage possesses great powers.
PARABHR. TIKĀ : Honourable Sir, it is only a few days back that Mitrā-vasu, the Inspector-General of Police, sent us both to wait on his sister, the Queen; and we have been detailed to perform various duties here in the pleasure-gardens. That’s why we had not heard about all this.
CHAMBERLAIN : Very well; let this not happen again.
BOTH : Your Honour, we feel very curious. If it is proper for people like us to know, can you tell us why His Majesty has forbidden the holding of the Spring Festival, please?
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Kings are usually fond of festivities; so the reason must be a good one.
CHAMBERLAIN : Seeing as the matter is common knowledge, there is no reason for not telling you. Has the gossip relating to the repudiation of Śakuntalā not reached your ears as yet?
BOTH : It has, Your Honour; we also heard from the King’s brother-in-law about the finding of the Ring.
CHAMBERLAIN : Then there is little left to tell. From the moment His Majesty set eyes on the Ring, he remembered that he had married Lady Śakuntalā in secret and then repudiated her through some strange lapse of memory. Since then His Majesty has been struck with bitter remorse.
He loathes all beautiful things; to his ministers (5)
he is not free of access as before;
he passes nights sleepless, tossing in bed;
to the queens in the Royal Apartments,
he extends all formal courtesies, but,
addresses them wrongly, mistaking their names;
then, he remains long plunged in painful embarrassment.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : This pleases me.
CHAMBERLAIN : On account of the King’s distraught state of mind, the Festival has been cancelled.
BOTH : A very proper decision, we’d say.
(A voice off-stage): The King, the King; come this way, Your Majesty.
CHAMBERLAIN (listening) : Our Lord is headed this way; now go, attend to your work.
THE GIRLS : Yes, Your Honour.
Both exit; then enter the King costumed to indicate grief, attended by Vetravatī and accompanied by the jester, Mādhavya.
CHAMBERLAIN (watching the King) : O how handsome our lord looks, notwithstanding his grief. Those blessed with fine looks always present a pleasing appearance, whatever the circumstances.
Spurning the splendour of dress and adornment (6)
he wears a single bracelet of gold,
now slipping down his forearm:
the lower lip blanched, scorched by his hot breath,
those eyes shorn of their brilliance
by unquiet wakefulness; his form,
glowing with intrinsic lustre, though wasted,
scarcely seems so, but dazzles the eye
like some magnificent gem cunningly fined down
and polished with exquisite art.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ (scrutinizing the King) : No wonder our dear Śakuntalā though humiliated by his harsh repudiation of her, still pines for him.
VETRAVATĪ : Let His Majesty walk on.
KING (pacing slowly in deep thought) :
Rudely awakened by penitent grief (7)
this cursed heart, then insensible
when my doe-eyed beloved tried hard
to rouse it from sleep, is now painfully awake.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Ah, such is that poor girl’s unhappy lot.
MĀDHAVYA (aside) : There he goes again; the Śakuntalā-fit is upon him. How on earth do we get this sickness of his treated?
CHAMBERLAIN (approaching) : Hail, Your Majesty. I have inspected the various spots in the pleasure-gardens; Your Majesty can safely resort to any of them as you please.
KING (to the attendant) : Vetravatī, go, take this message from me to the Chief Minister, the Honourable Piśuna, and say: ‘Having spent a long sleepless night, I feel unfit to preside today at the Court in the Hall of Justice. Let those cases of our citizens that Your Honour has personally attended to, be written out and dispatched to me.’
VETRAVATĪ : As His Majesty commands. (leaves)
KING : Pārvatāyana, you also attend to your business.
CHAMBERLAIN : As Your Highness commands.
(He exits.)
MĀDHAVYA : That has done it; there are no more flies buzzing around. Now you can relax in peace and enjoy the gardens, so pleasant now with the cold weather gone.
KING (sighing) : Ah, Mādhavya, my friend, is it not a true and tried saying that misfortunes strike a person all at once through chinks in his armour? Look at this:
No sooner is my mind freed from the darkness (8)
that eclipsed the memory of my love
for the daughter of the sage,
than the mind-born God* chooses this moment
to fit the arrow of the mango’s flower to his bow,
O my friend—and strikes me down.
And further
With memory restored by the Signet Ring, (9)
of the beloved spurned without real cause,
I weep for her with remorse and longing,
now that the fragrant month** is here with its joys.
MĀDHAVYA : How dare he, just wait; I shall destroy Love’s arrow with this stick. (lifts his stick to knock down the spray of mango blossom)
KING (smiling) : Well done; I have witnessed your Brahminic power. Now find me a pleasant spot, my friend, where I can divert my mind watching flowering vines that resemble my beloved a little.
MĀDHAVYA : Did I not hear you instructing your attendant, Caturikā, saying to her, ‘I shall pass the hour in the jasmine bower; bring me the drawing-board on which I had painted Lady Sakuntala’s portrait’?
KING : It is the only way I have to console myself. Well, lead the way then to the jasmine-bower.
MĀDHAVYA : This way, this way, Your Honour. (they turn around, Miśrakeśī follows)
MĀDHAVYA : See, here is the bower of the spring-creeper with its marble seat, so secluded, it seems to be waiting expectantly for you, extending a silent welcome. Let us enter and sit down. (they do so)
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : I shall stand here hidden behind the vines and take a look at my friend’s portrait; then I can let her know of the great love her lord bears her. (stands still)
KING (sighing deeply) : Ah! My dear friend, at this moment, all the events relating to my very first meeting with Śakuntalā pass through my mind. You remember I spoke to you about it; however when I disavowed her, you were not there by my side. But even before that you never once mentioned her name. Did you also forget her as I did?
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : It is for this reason that the lords of the earth should not allow a companion close to their heart, leave their side even for a moment.
MĀDHAVYA : O no, I did not forget. But after telling me all about her, you said at the end that it was all in jest—that there was no truth to it. And I, having a lump of clay for my brains accepted this. Well, when all is said and done, we have to accept that Fate is all-powerful.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : How true.
KING (after brooding for a while) : Help me, my dear friend, help me.
MĀDHAVYA : Hey, hey, what’s all this? What has come over you, my dear friend? How can noble men allow themselves to be overcome like this by grief? Mountains stand firm in the fiercest storm.
KING : O my dear friend, when I remember how distraught my love was when she found herself harshly repulsed, I feel totally shorn of all defences. There she was:
Cruelly spurned by me and starting to follow her kin, (10)
but sternly halted by the command—‘stay’—
of her father’s pupil, like a father to her,
she turned once again her eyes welling with tears
on me, O so pitiless:
How that look burns me like a poisoned dart.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : O you gods! Such concern for right conduct!
MĀDHAVYA : An idea just struck me. Do you think some celestial being has carried off the lady?
KING : Who else would dare touch a chaste wife? I learnt from her friends that it was the celestial dancer Menakā who gave birth to her. My heart tells me that one of her mother’s companions took her away.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : What is surprising is not that he has come out of a state of blank confusion but that he ever got into such a state in the first place.
MĀDHAVYA : Listen, if that’s the case, take heart, Sir. You are sure to be reunited with the lady.
KING : What makes you say that?
MĀDHAVYA : Because no mother, or father, can bear to see a daughter separated from her husband for long.
KING : Ah! My friend,
Was it a dream? A magical vision (11)
of loveliness? A hallucination?
Or, the fruit of my good deeds past,
reward in strict measure, and no more?
It is gone, I am quite certain,
never to return: Wishes?—they have fallen,
all, off the edge of a precipice.
MĀDHAVYA : No, no, don’t talk like this. The Ring itself proves that reunions that are destined to happen can come about in the most unexpected manner.
KING (looking at the Ring) : This thing—that fell from a place so hard to gain—it deserves to be pitied.
The merit of your good deeds, O Ring, (12)
was as slender as mine, as we see
from the reward you gained.
You won a high place on her fingers,
whose nails are pale-rose like dawn, enchanting—
then alas, you took such a fall.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : If it had been on any other hand, it would have really deserved to be pitied. O, Śakuntalā, dear friend, you are so far and I alone have the happiness of hearing words so sweet to the ear.
MĀDHAVYA : Tell me, my friend, what was the occasion on which you gave this Signet-Ring to the lady?
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : He is voicing the same curiosity that possesses me.
KING : I’ll tell you, my friend, listen; when I was leaving the Holy Grove to return to the Capital, my beloved asked me weeping—‘And when will my lord send for me?’
MĀDHAVYA : And then?
KING : Then, putting the Ring on her finger, I said to her:
MĀDHAVYA : What did you say?
KING : Count off each day one letter of my name (13)
on this Ring; and when you come to the last,
an escort will present himself, my love,
to lead you to my Royal Apartments.
But in blank confusion I acted cruelly.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : A charming arrangement, no doubt; only Fate stepped in and broke it.
MĀDHAVYA : How on earth did the Ring enter the carp’s mouth as if it were a hook?
KING : It slipped off your friend’s finger* when she was worshipping the waters at Sācl’s Pool.
MĀDHAVYA : Ah! That explains it.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Is that why the Royal Sage, afraid of committing a sin, began to have doubts about his marriage to our unfortunate Śakuntalā? On the other hand, does a love such as this really need a token of recognition? How can that be?
KING : Well; let me scold this Ring.
MĀDHAVYA (grinning) : I shall also scold this stick; O stick! Why are you so crooked when I myself am so straight?
KING (as if not hearing him) :
How could you abandon that hand (14)
with its delicate curving fingers,
to drown in the water, O Ring?
But consider :
A mindless thing cannot see perfection—
How could I have brushed aside my sweet love?
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Just what I was about to say; he has said it himself.
MĀDHAVYA : Look, why am I always left to die of hunger?
KING (paying no attention to him) : My darling! Pity this man whose heart burns with bitter remorse from having abandoned you without any cause; let him see you again.
CATURIKĀ : Your Majesty, here is the portrait of the Queen, (shows the board)
KING (gazing at it) : Aho! What a beautiful subject for a painting. Just look:
A pair of long expansive eyes, graceful curves of tendril-like eyebrows (15)
the lower lip bathed in the radiance of smiles bright as moonbeams
the luscious upper glowing rose-hued with the sheen of jujube-berries:
This, is her face that seems to speak even in a picture,
a dazzling beauty bursts forth in streaming rays.
MĀDHAVYA (looks at it) : O, what a lovely painting, so full of feeling; my eyes almost trip over those ups and downs in the landscape. Expecting it to come alive I am eager to start a conversation with it—why say more.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : What an accomplished artist the Royal Sage is; I could have sworn that my dear friend stood before me.
KING : My friend,
Whatever did not come out right was done again; (16)
yet this painting but hints at her glowing beauty.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Spoken like one whose love has been strengthened by remorse.
KING (sighing) :
Once she stood before my eyes and I spurned her, (17)
now, I adore her painted in a picture.
Having passed by a full-flowing stream,
I pant after a mirage, my friend.
MĀDHAVYA : I see three figures here, all beautiful. Which one is Lady Śakuntalā?
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : O this poor man has not the slightest inkling of my friend’s beauty. Of what use is the gift of sight to him, if he has never seen her?
KING : Come on, guess, which one is it?
MĀDHAVYA (scrutinizing the painting) : This, I think, as she is painted here—standing by the side of the Aśoka tree whose soft young leaves glisten sprayed with water—the hair-knot having become loose, the flowers in her lovely mass of hair falling off—drops of sweat forming on her face—her vine-like arms drooping limp—the knot of her lower garment coming undone—looking rather tired—this, is the Lady Śakuntalā. The other two are her companions, I guess.
KING : You are clever, Sir; do you see here the marks of my emotion?
Her portrait is soiled round the edges (18)
from marks left by my sweating fingers;
and on her cheek where I let fall a tear,
the paint has swelled and blistered.
Caturikā, the landscape is only partly painted in; go, get my paints.
CATURIKĀ : Sir Mādhavya, will you hold this painting while I go and fetch the paints?
KING : I’ll hold it myself, (takes it from her; she leaves)
MĀDHAVYA : Now tell me, friend, what else remains to be painted in?
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : I guess he wishes to paint each favourite spot that my dear friend loved to haunt.
KING : See, my friend:
Mālinī’s stream has yet to be drawn where wild-goose pairs rest on sandy banks, (19)
and circling her, the holy foothills of Gaurī;’s Parent55 where deer recline;
Then, under a tree where bark-garments are hung out to dry,
I wish to draw a doe rubbing her left eye against a blackbuck’s horn.
MĀDHAVYA (aside) : The way he goes on, I can just see him filling up the board with scores of bent longbeards.
KING : And there is something else I have forgotten that I had planned to put in—Śakuntalā’s ornaments.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Something appropriate to a sylvan way of life and to her maiden state, no doubt.
KING : The Śirīṣa blossom nestling at her ear, (20)
its filaments hanging down her cheek; lying snug
between her breasts, a necklace of lotus-fibre
soft as autumnal noonbeams: these are not drawn, my friend.
MĀDHAVYA : Why does the lady appear unduly alarmed and covering her face with a hand radiant as a red lotus, if I may ask? (looks) O, yes, I see now; there’s that bastard, that honey-looter, that rogue of a bee, coveting the lotus of her face.
KING : Then why don’t you drive the impertinent fellow off?
MĀDHAVYA : Only you can chastise shameless knaves.
KING : Quite right. Hey you, you welcome guest of flowering-vines! Why do you bother to keep whirling around here?
There on that flower sits Lady Honeybee (21)
waiting, enamoured of you, Your Honour;
though thirsty she will not drink
the sweet honey until you join her.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : The bee has been most courteously dismissed.
MĀDHAVYA : This sort of creature can turn perverse if driven away.
KING (getting angry) : Hey! You won’t obey my command, is that so? Then hear me now:
If you dare bite my love’s lower lip, like a bimba fruit, (22)
and alluring as fresh sprouts of a young tree—that lip
I drank so tenderly celebrating love’s raptures,
I’ll have you shut up, O Bee, in the heart of a lotus.
MĀDHAVYA : Such a terrible punishment . . . yet the fellow isn’t a bit afraid . . . (laughing, speaks to himself) He is quite mad . . . and I, constantly in his company . . . I am also going crazy.
KING : What! He has been driven off . . . yet, he hangs around.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Ah! How love can affect the steadiest mind!
MĀDHAVYA (aloud) : Look, my friend, this is just a picture.
KING : Just a picture?
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : He says what I was thinking to myself; but, the King was living in a world of his own.
KING : O, what gratuitous cruelty! How could you do this to me?
With my heart wholly lost in her as if she stood (23)
right here before my eyes, what supreme joy was mine;
waking up my memory you have trans-formed
my beloved into a lifeless image once again.
(he sheds tears)
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : His behaviour before and now . . . what a strange pattern they weave of inconsistency.
KING : O, my friend, what unrelenting anguish am I being subjected to:
Denied sleep I cannot dream (24)
she is in my arms; and my tears,
they will not let me gaze on her
even re-presented in a picture.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : You have completely wiped off Śakuntalā’s grief at having been spurned, my friend; I have seen it for myself.
CATURIKĀ (entering) : Your Majesty! I was on my way here with the box of paints . . .
KING : Yes? What happened?
CATURIKĀ : Her Highness, Queen Vasumatī . . . accompanied by Pingalikā . . . met me and snatched the box out of my hands, saying, ‘I shall take this to my noble lord myself.
MĀDHAVYA : And how did you escape then?
CATURIKĀ : While her maid was freeing the Queen’s veil that had got caught on a branch, I slipped away.
(A voice in the wings): This way, this way, Your Highness.
MĀDHAVYA (listening) : Ah! Here comes the tigress of the Royal Apartments ready to pounce on Caturikā and gobble her up as if she were a doe.
KING : Mādhavya, my friend, the Queen is approaching and she is very concious of the high honour I hold her in. You had better look after this portrait and keep it safe.
MĀDHAVYA : Keep you safe you mean—why don’t you add that? (picks up the painting and gets up) If you manage to get away from the entrapments of the Royal Apartments, shout for me in the Palace of Clouds.
And I’ll hide this where none but the pigeons can get a look in. (walks away with quick steps)
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Even though his heart belongs to someone else now, the King continues to be considerate to his first love, it seems. He is a man of steady affections.
ATTENDANT (entering with a letter in her hand) : Victory, victory to our lord.
KING : Vetravati, did you not meet Queen Vasumati on your way here?
ATTENDANT : Yes, my lord; but seeing me carrying a document, Her Majesty turned back.
KING : Her Highness is well aware of the proprieties; she would take care not to interrupt me in my work.
ATTENDANT : The Chief Minister begs to make this known to His Majesty: ‘The work relating to revenues being very heavy, only one civil case could be reviewed. The papers are sent herewith for His Majesty’s consideration.’
KING : Here, show me the document, (the attendant hands it over)
KING (reading) : ‘Be it known to His Majesty as follows: A wealthy merchant by name Dhana-Vredhi, who carried on a flourishing trade overseas, is known to have been lost in a shipwreck. He is childless and his wealth runs into millions. As of now it becomes state property. His Majesty’s decision is awaited.’
KING (greatly dejected) : Childlessness is a misery, Vetravati. . . . Since he was so wealthy, he must have had many wives. Let enquiries be therefore made if any one of them is pregnant.
ATTENDANT : We are informed, Sire, that very recently, the daughter of a merchant prince of Śaketa had her Pumsayana rites56 duly performed.
KING : Then in that case, the child in the womb has the right to the father’s property. Go, tell the Chief Minister so.
ATTENDANT : Your commands, Your Majesty, (prepares to leave)
KING : No—come here.
ATTENDANT (returning) : Here, Your Majesty.
KING : On the other hand, what does it matter whether there is an heir or not:
Proclaim thus to my subjects: Whosoever (25)
suffers the loss of one dearly loved
shall find in Duhṣanta one to take his place
ATTENDANT : This proclamation shall be made. (she leaves, then re-enters) My lord, your proclamation was received with joy by the leading citizens, like rain at the proper time.
KING (heaving a deep sigh) : This is how the wealth of families rendered supportless by the break in succession, passes to strangers when the life of the head of the family comes to an end. And this again will be the fate of the fortunes of Puru’s lineage when my own end comes.
ATTENDANT : Perish such inauspicious thoughts.
KING : A curse on me for turning my back on Fortune when she came to me.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : It is my dear friend alone whom he has in mind when he reproaches himself—I have no doubt.
KING : My wife by right, the firm base of my lineage, (26)
abandoned, though I had implanted myself in her—
like the rich Earth sown with seed in due season—deserted
before the promise of the rich harvest came true.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : She will not be deserted by you any longer.
CATURIKĀ (aside) : Lady, our lord is now doubly desolated as a result of the Chief Minister sending him that document. Perhaps you ought to go to the Palace of Clouds and fetch His Honour Mādhavya to console His Majesty.
ATTENDANT : An excellent idea.
(She leaves.)
KING : O misery! The shades of Duhṣanta’s ancestors are beset by mounting doubts, wondering:
‘After him, who in our line will prepare with ordained rites (27)
and offer us the oblations of remembrance—’
My washed tears that I, unblessed with offspring pour out,
the ancestors, I am certain, drink as their libations.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Though there is light, because it is covered, the good king remains shrouded in darkness.
CATURIKĀ : Sire, do not torture yourself any further. You are in the prime of life and there will be fine sons born to your other queens, who will discharge your debts to the ancestors. (to herself) His Majesty pays no heed to my words. But then it is the right medicine that can cure the disease.
KING (overcome by sorrow) : From earliest times:
This, the dynasty of Puru, pure from its roots, (28)
descending in one uninterrupted succession,
will now have its setting in my life, unfruitful,
like Sarasvati’s stream lost in barbarous sandy wastes.
CATURIKĀ (alarmed): Courage, my lord, take heart.
MIŚRAKEŚĪ : Should I not free him now from his grief? No, I had better not. For I have heard the Mother of Gods speak of this when consoling Śakuntalā—heard from her own lips that the gods themselves in their concern for the continuity of the sacrifices and to secure their own share in them, would see to it that before long, her lord welcomes Śakuntalā as his lawful wedded wife. Well, I should not really linger here any more; let me go and acquaint my dear friend with the happy turn of events. That should cheer her up. (she ascends into the sky and flies away)
(A voice off-stage): Help! A sacrilege, a sacrilege.
KING (regaining consciousness) : Hey! What’s that; it sounds like Mādhavya’s piteous call for help.
CATURIKĀ : Sire, I do hope poor Mādhavya hasn’t been caught red-handed by the worthy Madam Pingalikā with the painting in his possession.
KING : Go, Caturikā, go and convey my displeasure to the Queen for not disciplining her servants.
CATURIKĀ : As Your Majesty commands.
(She leaves.)
(The same voice off-stage): Help! A sacrilege, a sacrilege.
KING : The Brahmin’s voice sounds truly altered by terror . . . Ho there, who’s there?
CHAMBERLAIN (entering) : Your commands, Majesty.
KING : Go, and find out why our little Mādhavya is crying out so piteously. chamberlain : I shall find out. (he goes out, then returns in great agitation)
KING : Pārvatāyana, nothing terrible has happened, I trust?
CHAMBERLAIN : Yes, it has, Sire.
KING : Why are you trembling like this? I see you—
Already trembling from age, your limbs now tremble even more, (29)
like a pipal tree, shaken by the wind blowing through it.
CHAMBERLAIN : Let His Majesty come at once and save his friend.
KING : Save him from what?
CHAMBERLAIN : Great danger.
KING : Make your meaning clear, man.
CHAMBERLAIN : The palace known as the Palace of Clouds . . . from where one can see far into the distance, in all directions . . .
KING : Yes, what of it?
CHAMBERLAIN :
From its topmost turret which even the palace-peacocks (30)
cannot fly up to without frequent pauses,
some being, invisible,
has seized your friend and carried him off.
KING (getting up at once) : Ah! My own home . . . haunted by evil spirits?
But it is known that kingship bears responsibility for many offences.
Each day of our own life we slip and fall into error (31)
through negligence that we are unaware of;
how then can we fully know what paths
the life of each one of our subjects takes?
(A voice in the background) : Ho! Protect me, here, protect me, here.
KING (listening, begins to walk fast) : My friend, don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.
(The voice in the background) : How can I not be afraid . . . when someone is forcing my head back . . . and trying to break my neck into bits as if it were a piece of sugarcane.
KING (casting a glance around) : My bow, bring my bow.
Enter a female bodyguard carrying the bow.
BODYGUARD : Sire, here is the bow and arrows and your hand-guard.
(A voice off-stage):
Thirsting for the fresh blood that’ll gush from your throat, (32)
I’ll kill you here, as a tiger kills the animal
struggling in its grasp: Let Duhṣanta who wields his bow
to free the distressed of their fear now be your refuge.
KING (angrily) : How dare he address me thus. Ha! Hold, hold, you foul eater of corpses. From this instant you will cease to live. (stringing his bow) Pārvatāyana, lead the way to the staircase.
CHAMBERLAIN : This way, this way, Your Majesty.
KING (looking all around) : But this place is completely empty.
(A voice off-stage) : Protect me, protect me. I can see you, but alas! You cannot see me . . . like a mouse in a cat’s paw, I despair for my life.
KING : Hey! You! You who wax arrogant possessed of the powers of invisibility! Do you imagine that my missile cannot see you either? Just wait. And don’t be too confident that you can safely hide behind my friend. I am activating that missile58—
Which shall strike you who deserves to die and save him, (33)
the twice-born who deserves to be protected,
just as the swan only takes in the milk
and leaves the water mixed with it behind.
MĀTALI : May you be blessed with long life.
The Titans are your arrows’ target (34)
by Indra ordained; on them should you bend your bow.
The noble direct towards their friends
serene eyes and gentle—not cruel arrows.
KING (de-activating his missile with alacrity) : Ah! It’s you, Mātali, welcome, welcome to the charioteer of the Lord of the Immortals.
MĀDHAVYA : Hm . . . so . . . he was about to slay me as if I were a sacrificial beast . . . and here . . . you welcome him with open arms.
MĀTALI (smiling) : Gracious lord, now let me tell you why Indra has sent me.
KING : I am all attention.
MĀTALI : There is a race of Titans, the invincible brood of the demon Kālanemi.
KING : I once heard of them from Nārada.
MĀTALI : Destined for destruction at your hands alone (35)
in the battle’s forefront, they are inviolable
before your comrade, the Lord of a Hundred Powers.*
Where the Sun with His spreading beams
cannot spring forth to break Night’s massed darkness,
the Moon appears and chases it away.
So let Your Honour mount the celestial chariot as you are with your bow ready and strung and ride forth to victory.
KING : I am indeed highly honoured by this singular mark of Indra’s favour. But tell me, Mātali, why did you act the way you did towards poor Mādhavya?
MĀTALI : O, I shall explain that too. I found you deeply dejected on account of some sorrow or other. Accordingly, I acted to rouse your anger. For:
A fire stirred blazes brightly, (36)
a cobra provoked spreads its hood;
every form of life possessed of energy
KING : My friend, the command of the Lord of Heaven cannot be transgressed. So, go to the Chief Minister, Piśuna, acquaint him with all that has transpired and give him this message from me:
Let your wisdom alone protect the subjects while I am away; (37)
this drawn bow of mine other duties has to accomplish.
MĀDHAVYA : As Your Honour commands.
(He leaves.)
MĀTALI : Let my gracious lord mount the chariot. (the King does so)
(All exit.)
End of Act Six entitled
SEPARATION FROM ŚAKUNTALĀ
Scene: First the celestial regions; then the Hermitage of Mārīca.
KING : Mātali, although I have carried out the mission entrusted to me by Indra, the Munificent, I feel that I have rendered him too slight a service to merit that special welcome he accorded me.
MĀTALI (smiling) : It seems neither of you feels truly gratified.
To you those services you rendered Indra, (1)
Lord of Mighty Storms, look trifling
beside the high honours you received;
while He, marvelling at your glorious deeds
reckons not high the honours He bestowed.
KING : O no, Mātali, that’s not so; the honour He did me at the time of my leave-taking went far beyond my wildest expectations. Mark you, in the presence of all the assembled Immortals, He made me share His royal seat. And:
Glancing up with a smile at Jayanta, his son, (2)
who stood beside him longing inwardly for the same,
Hari* placed round my neck the Mandāra-garland,
tinged with golden sandal rubbed off his chest.
MĀTALI : What indeed does Your Honour not deserve that the Lord of the Immortals can bestow? Just think:
Once before Paradise was rid of thorns, the Titans, (3)
by the fierce claws of godhead descended lion-like:
now, once again it is freed by your smooth streamlined arrows,
for Hari to savour His pleasures in peace.
KING : But Mātali, in this case, the glory of the Lord of Hundred Powers alone, is to be celebrated.
Those delegated to perform momentous deeds, (4)
know them, O Mātali, to succeed
only by virtue of the high esteem
they are held in by their masters:
could Aruṇa dispel darkness if the thousand-rayed Sun
did not place him in the forefront as His charioteer?
MĀTALI : Such words accord with the nobility of your mind, Sire. (drives the chariot a little further) Gracious Prince, can you see from here how the splendour of your fame spreads across the high vault of the sky?
With pigments left from cosmetics blended (5)
for the lovely women of Paradise,
celestials inscribe on scrolls
that hang from the Wish-Granting Vine,
your deeds of glory that form the themes
for the well-wrought poems they sing.
KING : Mātali, the other day during our ascent into the ethereal regions, I was burning with such ardour to meet and do battle with the Titans that I did not pay much attention to the Celestial Path we were traversing. So, tell me, which of the Paths of the Seven Winds are we on now?
MĀTALI : The Path of the Wind Pravaha, hallowed (6)
by Viṣṇu’s wide-stepping second stride,
and free of all worldly taints:
its current bears along the Triple-Streamed Gangā
—her home and resting place the firmament—
and propels on their circling course
the luminous orbs of the sky, spraying
their beams of light evenly around.
KING : No wonder then that my inmost being and my outward-looking senses as well experience such tranquillity. (looking down at the wheels) We have descended into the Path of the Clouds, I believe, Mātali.
MĀTALI (smiling) : How do you know that?
KING : The rims of the wheels glisten misted with spray; (7)
cātaka birds dart in and out through their spokes;
the horses gleam bathed by flickers of lightning;
it is clear that your chariot now rides
over clouds whose bellies are swollen with rain.
MĀTALI : In an instant Your Honour will be landing on the Earth that you rule over.
KING (looking down again) : Mātali, see with what rapidity we are descending; the world of mortals presents a most marvellous sight. Look:
As the mountains rear upwards, the land climbs (8)
precipitately down their great peaks, it seems;
trees whose forms were merged within the dense leafage
emerge distinct as their branching shoulders
thrust into view: those fine lines display themselves
as great rivers brimming with water:
see how the Earth looms at my side
as if some mighty hand had flung her up to me.
MĀTALI : An acute observation, Sire. (looking down with profound admiration) O, what enchanting beauty is this, of the Earth!
KING : Mātali, what range of mountains is that, glowing with liquid gold, stretching like a bar of clouds drenched in sunset colours and plunging deep into the eastern and western oceans?
MĀTALI : That range of mountains, Your Honour, is known as Hēma-Kūta, the home of Kimpuruṣas; it is there that the highest forms of penance are wrought. And listen further, Gracious Prince:
The Lord of Beings, born of The Light (9)
sprung from the Self-Existent Itself,
He, the revered Parent of Gods and Titans,
leads with his consort, here, a life of penance.
KING (speaking in reverential tones) : In that case I should pay my respects to His Supreme Holiness before proceeding any further; such a rare opportunity for receiving blessings must not be passed by.
MĀTALI : An excellent thought, Sire. (mimes descent of the chariot) There, we have landed.
KING (in a tone of utmost wonder) : How’s this, Mātali!
The wheels glide noiseless; no jolting is felt; (10)
no dust is seen whirling around;
they do not touch the surface of the Earth;
nothing marks the chariot’s descent.
MĀTALI : This, needless to say, is the difference, gracious lord, between the chariot of Indra, Lord of Heroic Fury and that of Your Honour.
KING : Mātali, whereabouts is the Hermitage of Sage Mārīca situated?
MĀTALI (pointing with his hand) : There:
Where stands that sage, still as a tree stump (11)
and faces the disk of the noonday sun,
his form half-buried in an ant hill,
with the slough of a snake a second sacred thread,
his throat squeezed tightly round
by twining tendrils of a dried-up vine;
and wears coiled on his head a tangled mass of matted hair
where birds build nests and dishevel strands
that fall loose about his shoulders.
KING : I humbly bow to you, O Practiser of Cruel Penance!
MĀTALI (pulling in the reins) : Now, gracious lord, we are entering the Hermitage of the Lord of Beings, where the holy Aditi, his consort, tends the young Mandāra trees herself.
KING : O wondrous! This is a spot far more blissful than Paradise itself. I feel as if I am immersed in the Pool of Nectar.
MĀTALI (bringing the chariot to a stop) : Dismount, gracious lord.
KING (dismounting) : And you, Sir?
MĀTALI : Seeing that the chariot is on level ground and well secured, I can also get down, (does so) Gracious lord, come this way and look around you; these are the penance-groves of the Perfected Seers.
KING : I look around at the penance-groves and at the Seers; and I am filled with wonder.
In groves where trees abound that grant all desires, (12)
air is the sole means of life-support for these Seers;
ablutions for holy rites are performed
in waters that glow with the sheenof a host of golden lotuses;
meditations are practised in jewelled caves
and restraint in the presence of celestial nymphs.
The Seers here lead lives of penance in this place
that other ascetics seek to win through penances.
MĀTALI : The aims of the truly great soar high. (he walks around and speaks in the air) Venerable Śākalya, how is the Holy Mārica occupied now? (as if listening to a reply) Ah, I see; that questioned by Aditi, daughter of Dakṣa, about the conduct of a virtuous wife, he is expounding these truths to her and the wives of other sages? I think we should wait till the discourse is finished. (addressing the King) Sire, Why don’t you stay in the shade of this Aśoka tree, while I go and wait for the opportune moment to announce your arrival to Indra’s Parent.
KING : Yes, whatever you think best.
(Mātali exits.)
KING (indicates feeling a good omen) :
I see no hope for my fondest wish— (13)
yet you throb, O, my arm, all in vain;
Good Fortune once brushed aside
turns to misfortune without fail.
(Voice offstage) : No, don’t do that; don’t be so wayward; his true nature repeatedly breaks out.
KING (listening) : This is hardly a place for undisciplined behaviour; who is being rebuked, I wonder. (following in the direction of the voice, exclaims in astonishment) And whom have we here? Just a child. . . he is being held back by hermit women. . . his strength is certainly not that of a child.
To amuse himself in play, he pulls (14)
roughly from its mother’s half-sucked teat,
a lion’s cub; tousling its soft mane
he drags it along by sheer force.
BOY : Come little lion, come, open wide your jaws; I wish to count your teeth.
FIRST HERMIT LADY : O you naughty boy, why do you hurt our animals that we love tenderly like our own children? Really. . . each day your ways become wilder and more wayward. The sages have well named you Sarva-Damana.*
KING : Who can this child be for whom I feel an affection as if he were my own? (reflecting) O well, I guess that being childless, my heart fills with tenderness for him.
SECOND LADY : The lioness over there will spring on you if you don’t let go of her little one, you know?
BOY (grinning) : O what a shame! I am really scared now. (pouts his lower lip)
KING : This boy strikes me as the tiny germ (15)
of mighty valour that waits
like a fiery spark for kindling,
before it bursts into a blazing fire.
FIRST LADY : Darling, let go of this little lion cub; I shall give you something else to play with.
BOY : What is that? Give it to me. (holds out his right hand)
KING (looks in astonishment at the boy’s outstretched hand) : Why, this is incredible, he bears on his palm the mark of a Sovereign of the World.
With fingers close knit, palm slightly hollowed, (16)
the hand he stretches out in eager expectation
to hold the wished-for plaything, resembles
a single lotus bud, its petals tightly shut,
just prized open by Dawn’s first flush of rose.
SECOND LADY : Suvratā, we cannot fob this child off with mere promises; so go to my cottage, you will find there a clay peacock painted in many colours that once belonged to Mankaṇaka, the child of one of the hermits. Bring it and give it to him.
FIRST HERMIT LADY : Very well.
(She exits.)
BOY : In the meantime I shall play with this little lion, shan’t I? (looks at the hermit woman and laughs)
KING : O how my heart goes out to this wayward little fellow. (sighs)
Blessed are they whose garments get soiled (17)
from the dust of the limbs of their little sons
who clamour in words sweetly indistinct,
to be lifted on to their laps, and for no reason
laugh to reveal glimpses of their budding teeth.
HERMIT LADY (shaking her forefinger at the child) : Very well, so you won’t listen to me. (turns around to look for help) Is any one of the younger hermits around? (notices the King) Gracious Sir, please come and free this little lion cub from the iron grip of this small boy who takes a childish pleasure in tormenting it.
KING (approaches, smilling) : Listen, son of a great sage:
Why do you act in this wanton manner (18)
alien to the life of a hermitage
where the spirit finds its tranquil home?
Why do you flout that rule of gentleness
towards all living things,
like the young of a black serpent that spoils
for other creatures, the pleasant sanctuary
that is the fragrant sandalwood tree?
HERMIT LADY : Gracious Sir, he is not the son of a sage.
KING : His actions that suit his appearance proclaim loudly that he is not. But meeting him in a place such as this, I thought he might be. (doing what was requested of him, the King feels the touch of the child, and speaks to himself):
If such pleasure can thrill through my whole body (19)
from a touch of this child—a stranger’s offspring—
what bliss must he not then bring to the heart
of the lucky man from whose loins he has sprung?
HERMIT LADY : How extraordinary! O, it is a marvel. . .
KING : What is?
HERMIT LADY : The likeness, Gracious Sir; the likeness of this boy’s appearance to yours, even though you are not related. It astonishes me. Further, wild as he is, he does not shy away from you who are a stranger to him; I am amazed by that.
KING (fondling the child) : If he is not the son of a hermit, to which family does he belong?
HERMIT LADY : Puru’s family.
KING (to himself) : The same as mine? That is strange. Therefore the noble lady fancies a resemblance between us. It’s true though that the descendants of Puru observe one last family vow.
As rulers of the earth they wish to pass (20)
in mansions abounding in sensuous delights
their early years: thereafter they make
the roots of trees their home and live
bound by the hermit’s single vow.
(aloud) But mortals cannot reach these regions on their own, noble lady.
HERMIT LADY : Yes, Gracious Sir; what you say is true. But this boy’s mother related as she was to an apsarā. gave birth to him here in this
Hermitage presided over by the Father of the Immortals.
KING (aside) : My hopes are stirred a second time running. (aloud) And the name of the Royal Sage whose wife his noble mother is, if I may ask? hermit lady : Who would ever think of even uttering the name of one who abandoned his lawful wife.
KING (to himself) : The remark points straight at me, I’m afraid. If I could only ask the name of the boy’s mother. (reflecting) No, I shouldn’t. It is highly improper to exhibit curiosity about another man’s wife.
HERMIT LADY : Look, Sarva-Damana, see how pretty the śakunta* is.
BOY (looking around) : Mamma, Mamma, where is she?
FIRST LADY : So fond is he of his mother that the similarity in sound of the two words has misled him.
SECOND LADY : Darling, she means this clay peacock; she was pointing out to you how pretty the toy is.
KING (to himself) : So, his mother’s name is Śakuntalā; but it is not an uncommon name. Will these events turn out after all to be a mirage that will lead me into further misery?
BOY : Yes, dear Aunt, it is; I like this pretty peacock. (takes the toy from her)
HERMIT LADY (in great alarm) : Look, look, what has happened, great gods; the protective amulet—it is not on his wrist . . .
KING : O, please don’t be alarmed, worshipful ladies; here it is. It must have slipped off during his playful scuffle with the lion cub.
BOTH LADIES : No, no, don’t, don’t touch it. . . that is very strange. . . he has picked it up. (they clasp their hands on their bosoms and stare at each other in amazement)
KING : Why did you ask me not to touch it?
FIRST LADY : Illustrious monarch, listen: this is an amulet of divine power, made out of a herb of immense virtue, named ‘Invincible’; and it was tied on the child’s wrist at the time of his natal rites, by His Holiness Mārīca. If it falls on the ground, no one except himself or his parents can safely pick it up.
KING : And if someone else does?
FIRST LADY : It is transformed at once into a serpent that bites him.
KING : And have you worthy ladies seen this happen, with your own eyes?
BOTH : Many times.
KING (overcome with joy) : How can I not rejoice with my whole heart that this moment, my heart’s desire has at last found its fulfilment.
SECOND LADY : Suvratā, come, let us go straight to Śakuntalā who is engaged in the unfailing performance of her ritual vows and inform her of all that has happened.
BOY : Let me go, let me go; I wish to go to my Mamma.
(Both exit.)
KING : My little son, we shall both go together to your mother and make her happy, shall we?
BOY : You are not my father; Duhṣanta is my father.
KING (with a smile) : His hot rebuttal is the last bit of proof I need.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Even after I was told that Sarva-Damana’s amulet did not turn immediately into a serpent, I was afraid to believe that good fortune would greet me again. . . . but I do remember miśrakeśī mentioning something that hinted at just such a possibility.
KING (sees Śakuntalā) : Ha! Here is Lady Śakuntalā . . . it is she . . .
Dressed in dusky garments (21)
her face fined thin from observing strictest vows,
her hair bound in a single braid; pure, upright,
she keeps the long vow of cruel separation
from me who acted so heartless to her.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (seeing the King pale with remorse) : This does not seem to be my noble lord. Who then is this man? Defiling by his embrace my child who was protected by the sanctified amulet?
BOY (running to his mother) : Dearest Mamma, here is some stranger who calls me his little son.
KING : My beloved, the cruelty I showed you has come full circle now; it is I who have to plead now to be recognized by you.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : Take courage, O my heart; envious Fate seems to have relented at last; this is indeed my noble lord.
KING : Dear love:
The light of memory has pierced through (22)
the sightless night of my dark delusion;
by Fortune’s grace, you now stand before me,
O Lady of the most gracious face!
Like Rohini in conjunction with the Moon
appearing at the end of an eclipse.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Hail! Vic. . . . (breaks off in the middle, her voice choked by tears)
KING : Though the greeting of ‘victory’ (23)
was strangled by your tears, I have more than won—
for my eyes have looked upon your face
with their pale, unadorned, parted lips.
BOY : Who is this, Mamma, who is this?
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Ask your fortunes, my little one. (weeps bitterly)
KING : Cast off from your heart, O lovely lady, (24)
the bitter pain of cruel rejection; believe
that some strange overpowering blank confusion
took hold of my heart on that fateful day.
Place a wreath on a blind man’s brows
and he tears it off, fearing it to be a snake:
It so happens that minds wrought upon by utter darkness
meet the good and beautiful with a perverse response.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : O my lord, rise. It must be that I had to reap the consequences of some wrongdoing on my part in a former birth; otherwise how could my noble lord, so compassionate by nature, have acted in such an unfeeling manner towards me.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : How did the memory of this most unhappy person return to you, my lord?
KING : Once I have plucked this wounding dart of grief from my heart, I
shall tell you all.
O fair lady! The tear drop that once stood (25)
trembling on your lower lip
—and I watched uncaring, lost in delusion—
while it still clings to your gently-curving lashes,
I shall now wipe away, my beloved,
to free myself of remorse.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (as he wipes away her tears, notices the Ring) : O my lord, this is the Ring.
KING : Yes, and it was its amazing recovery that restored my memory.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Where I failed in convincing my lord, this thing has succeeded and done just that.
KING : Then let the vine receive once more the blossom that is the symbol of its union with the springtime.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : No, no, my lord, I don’t trust it. Let my lord wear it himself.
MĀTALI : Indeed, Fortune has blessed you, gracious lord, by granting you the happiness of meeting again your lawful wife and of seeing the face of your son.
KING : My cherished desires have more than amply borne fruit because their fulfilment has been brought about through the aid of my friend. Mātali, tell me, do you think that the Destroyer of Darkness* knew this would happen?
MĀTALI (with a smile) : What is beyond the knowing of the Lords of the Universe? Come, Sir, His Holiness Mārīca is waiting to receive you. king : Dearest, hold our child, I wish to present myself before His Holiness
with you leading the way.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : I feel that it is indecorous to appear before elders in the company of my husband.
KING : It is the proper way of doing things on auspicious occasions; come, my love.
MĀRĪCA (seeing the King) : O Daughter of Dakṣa!
Here is the one who is in the forefront of your son’s battles (26)
He, called Duhṣanta, is Lord of the Earth; because of his bow,
the myriad-pointed thunderbolt of the Lord of Riches*
giving up its office has become a mere ornament.
ADITI : His mien does proclaim his greatness.
MĀTALI : Lord of the Earth! The Parents of the Universe regard you with eyes that reveal the affection for a son. Approach them, Your Honour.
Is this The Twain sprung from Dakṣa and Marīci, but one remove from the Creator. (27)
Whom the seers extol as The Cause of The Effulgence that manifests Itself in Twelve Forms,
Who begat The Protector of the Triple-World and Ruler of the gods offered oblations,
in Whom the World’s Self, higher even than the Self-Born placed Itself to be born into the world.
MĀTALI : Who else?
KING (prostrates himself before them) : I, Duhṣanta, ever the servant of Indra, humbly bow before you both.
MĀRĪCA : My son, long may you protect the Earth.
ADITI : Be invincible in battle, my child.
MĀRĪCA : Daughter,
With a husband the equal of The Breaker of Dark Clouds* (28)
With a son like his son, Jayanta, no other blessing
fits you but this: Be the equal of Paulomī.
ADITI : My child, may you always be highly esteemed by your lord; and your little son live long and be the ornament to both your families. Sit down here.
MĀRĪCA (Pointing to each in turn) :
Here, Śakuntalā, the virtuous wife, (29)
here, your fine son and here Your Honour:
Faith, Promise, Performance—
The three have happily come together.
KING : Supreme Holiness! This is indeed an unprecedented favour that you have granted us now—first comes the fulfilment of our wishes, then, the gracious sight of Your Holiness. As a rule, Holiness:
The flower appears first, then the fruit, (30)
dense clouds gather followed by rain,
this is the law of cause and effect:
but good fortune has preceded your grace.
MĀTALI : Long-Lived Majesty! This is the way the Parents of the Universe bestow their blessings.
KING : Supreme Holiness! Having married your handmaid here by the rites of mutual love, I cruelly repudiated her because of an unfortunate lapse of memory, when her kinsfolk brought her to me after a period of time; and in so doing, I have gravely wronged your kinsman, His Holiness, Kaṇva. Subsequently, on seeing this Ring, I realized that I had in fact married her. All this strikes me as most strange:
Just as a man sees an elephant pass by (31)
before his very eyes but doubts its existence,
then, noticing its footprints, ceases to doubt,
such changes has my mind passed through.
MĀRĪCA : You have reproached yourself sufficiently, my son. The delusion you were labouring under was quite natural. Listen to what I have to say.
KING : I am all attention.
MĀRĪCA : The moment Menakā flew in from Apsarā Pool and came to Aditi, bearing Śakuntalā grief-stricken on account of her repudiation, I knew from meditating upon it that this unhappy girl, your partner in religious rites, had been repulsed by you under the influence of Durvāsā’s curse. And, that the effect of the curse would cease as soon as you saw this Ring.
KING (sighing with relief) : Then I am free from blame.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (to herself) : Thank my good stars! My lord did not really wish to spurn me. He did so only because he had forgotten all about me . . . But . . . I have no recollection of ever having been cursed. Or. . . is it possible that being absent-minded on account of the separation from my husband, I was oblivious of a curse? I wonder if that was why my friends asked me to be sure and present the Ring to my lord.
MĀRĪCA (addressing Śakuntalā) : Dear child, you know all the facts now. Therefore do not harbour any feelings of resentment towards your partner in all religious rites. Remember that:
You were harshly repulsed by your Lord (32)
when the curse clouded darkly his memory;
now that the darkness has lifted,
sovereignty over him is yours.
Tarnished by grime, the mirror’s surface
returns no image; polished, its brightness reflects one.
KING : It is as Your Holiness observes.
MĀRĪCA : My son, I trust you have greeted with joy your son born of Śakuntalā; I have myself performed the birth rite and all other sacraments for him.
KING : Supreme Holiness, the enduring glory of my line rests with him.
MĀRĪCA : yes, that shall be. O King who will live for many years, know this—he will be a Sovereign of the World. Know this too:
Crossing the oceans in a chariot gliding smooth, (33)
he shall conquer and rule unopposed
the rich Earth with her seven continents:
named All-Tamer here, because he subdues all creatures
by his strength, the future will see his name
proclaimed Bharata: He who bears the world.
KING : When your Divine Self has performed all the sacraments for him, all this and more may be expected of him.
ADITI : Divine Lord, should the venerable Sage Kaṇva not be informed in detail of all the events that has led to the fulfilment of his daughter’s hopes and wishes? Menakā, out of love for her daughter, has been living here, attending on us, and knows it all.
ŚAKUNTALĀ : Her Holiness has put in words the longings of my heart. Mārīca : By the Divine Vision acquired through penance, everything that has happened is present to the eyes of His Reverence Kaṇva. (on reflection) Even so, it is our obligation to formally acquaint the Sage with the happy turn of events. Ho there, is anyone there?
DISCIPLE : Supreme Holiness! Here I am.
MĀRĪCA : Gālava, my son, go by the Aerial Path at once to His Reverence, Kạnva and convey my joyful message to him: that, on the termination of the curse, Śakuntalā with her son has been duly received by Duhṣanta, whose memory has been restored.
DISCIPLE : Your command shall be carried out at once, Your Holiness.
(He exits.)
MĀRĪCA (to the King) : My son, you too should mount the chariot of Indra, your friend, with your son and wife and return to your Capital.
KING : Your Holiness’ command shall be obeyed.
MĀRĪCA : Honour the gods in full measure (34)
with holy rites and all due offerings;
May the God of gods* in return
bless your people with abundant rains;
Let Time run its round in this pattern
woven of acts of mutual service:
May both the Worlds enjoy Glory and Plenitude
built on such an enduring friendship
KING : For my part, Divine Holiness, I shall strive to the best of my power to establish this blessed state.
MĀRĪCA : Is there some other blessing that I may bestow on you, my son?
KING (worshipping him with great joy) : If His Divine Holiness wishes to grant me any further favours, let them be these:
May kings ever work for the good of their subjects: (35)
May the utterance of those blessed by the Word
be ever honoured:
May the Self-Existent Lord who unites in Himself
the Dark and the Light,59
Whose Infinite Power pervades this Universe
annihilate forever the round of my births.
End of Act Seven entitled
ŚAKUNTALĀ’S PROSPERITY
Thus ends the play entitled The Recognition of Śakuntalā