A Play in Seven Acts
PROLOGUE
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.
PLAY
KING, Duhşanta, the hero or nāyaka; monarch of the lunar dynasty of Puru.
SUTA, Royal charioteer.
ŚAKUNTALA, The heroine or nāyakī Duhşanta’s Queen; adopted daughter of Sage Kaṇva.
ANASUYĀ, PRIYAMVADĀ, Friends and companions of Śakuntalā.
MADHAVYA, Jester, the King’s friend and constant companion.
GUAṚD, Raivataka, also doorkeeper.
GENERAL, Bhadrasena, Senāpati or Commander of the Royal Army.
GAUTAMI, Matron of Kanva’s Hermitage.
HARITA, Hermit boy.
KANVA, Head of the Hermitage and foster-father of Śakuntalā.
ŚARNGARAVA, ŚĀRADVATA, Disciples of Sage Kaṇva.
CHAMBERLAIN, Pārvatāyana, in charge of the Royal Household.
VETRAVATI, Doorkeeper of the Royal Apartments.
SOMARĀTA, High Priest, the King’s preceptor.
CHIEF OF POLICE
SUCAKA, JANUKA, Policemen.
FISHERMAN
MIŚRAKEŚI, An apsarā (celestial nymph), friend to Menakā.
PARABHṚTlKA (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.
MĀRICA, Prajāpati or Primal Parent and Indra’s father.
ADITI, Consort of Mārīca and mother of Indra, daughter of Dakṣa.
MINOR CHARACTERS
KARABHAKA, The Queen Mother’s emissary.
AN ANCHORITE AND HIS DISCIPLE
PUPIL OF KANVA
TWO HERMITS
ROYALBARDS
ATTENDANT, Pratīharī
Female bodyguard of the King, who looked after his weapons and attended him on his hunts.
CHARACTERS OFF-STAGE
DURVĀSĀ, A sage reputed for his violent temper and quick to curse.
HAMSAVATĪ, Duhşanta’s junior queen.
Aerial voices: Voices of the tree nymphs in Kanva’s Hermitage.
Voice of the cuckoo in the Hermitage.
PERSONS MENTIONED
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.
VASUMATI, Royal Consort, Duhşanta’s Chief Queen.
MITRĀ-VASU, The Queen’s brother.
PIŚUNA, Chief Minister.
DHANA-VRDDHI, A wealthy merchant prince, probably head of the guild.
BENEDICTION
(1) That First Creation of the Creator:
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.
After the benediction enter the Director.
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:
(2) Unless those who know applaud my art,
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:
(3) Days draw to a close in quiet beauty;
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)
(4) Exquisite are Śirīṣa blossoms—
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,
(5) I was carried far, far away, lured
by your impassioned song, compelling,
(looks towards the wings)
even as the King, Duhşanta 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 à deer, the King with his charioteer.
SUTA1 (looking at the King and the deer): O Long-Lived Majesty!
(6) Casting my eye on the fleeting blackbuck
and on you holding the taut-strung bow,
I seem to see before my very eyes
Pinākī,* the Lord, chasing the deer.
KING: We have come a long, long way, Sūta, drawn by this blackbuck; even now he is seen:
(7) Arching his neck with infinite grace, now and then
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?
SUTA: 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.
SUTA: As His Majesty commands. (mimes increased speed of the chariot) See, see, Sire:
(8) The reins hanging slack,
the horses leap forward,
no, they glide over the track—
bodies out-stretched, ears flung back,
the tips of their plumes motionlẹss;
the very dust whirled up
swiftly advancing cannot outstrip them.
KING (exulting): See how they excel even Hari’s* bright horses; therefore:
(9) What was minute suddenly looms large;
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)
Enter an ascetic accompanied by his disciple.
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.
(10) How fragile the life of this deer!
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.
(11) Quickly withdraw your well-aimed arrow, bound
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 Brāhmaṇa’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:
(12) When you behold the sages rich in holiness
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:
(13) Grains of wild rice fallen from tree-hollows
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:
(14) Rippling beneath a passing breeze, waters flow
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.
They go some distance.
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….
(15) Tranquil is this hermitage, yet my arm throbs;6
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!
(16) If girls bred in a hermitage
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)
Enter Śakuntalā with her friends, occupied as described.
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.
(17) The sage who would inure to harsh penance
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,
(18) With rounded breasts concealed by cloth of bark
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,
(19) Though inlaid in duckweed the lotus glows;
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,
(20) Her lower lip has the rich sheen of young shoots,
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 comes close to the vine and looks at it with joy.
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)
PRIYAMVADA (smiling archly): Anasūyā, guess why Śakuntalā is gazing upon Vana-jyotsnī for so long and with such longing.
ANASUYA: No, I cannot; you tell me.
PRIYAMVADA: 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 Kanva 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.
PRIYAMVADA: 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?
PRIYAMVADA (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.
ANASUYĀ: Ah! Now we know, don’t we, Priyamvadā, why Śakuntalā has been watering Mādhavī so lovingly.
ŚAKUNTALA: 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:
(21) It is my firm belief that by the Law7
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):
(22) Her lovely eyes rove following
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):
(23) O, you honey-foraging thief! You touch
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 Duhşanta: 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 half way 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!
(24) While the chastiser of the wicked,
great Puru’s scion rules over this rich earth,
who dares behave in this churlish manner
to guileless, young girls of the hermitage.
Seeing the King, all three are taken aback.
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.
Śakuntalā, confused, is silent.
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 Saptaparṇa 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.
They 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 waṇted 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.
ŚakuntalĀ shows signs of falling in love.
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?
ANASUYA: 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.
ANASUYA: That’s right.
KING: It fits:
(25) How could a form of such matchless beauty
come from the womb of a mortal mother?
The scintillating lightning-flash
does not spring up from the earth.
Śakuntalā, shy, looks down.
KING (to himself): O what good fortune! Now my desires find a firm footing.
PRIYAMVADA (turning to the King with a smile): Your Honour was about to say something?
ŚakuntalĀ raises a warning forefinger.
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.
PRIYAMVADA: Do not hesitate, Sir; ascetics may be questioned freely.
KING: I wish to ask,
(26) Is it only till she is given in marriage
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?
PRIYAMVADA: 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):
(27) Hold fast, O heart, to your fondest wish:
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.
Śakuntalā without a word prepares to leave.
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.
(28) Eager to follow the sage’s daughter,
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,
(29) Her arms droop, languid, her palms glow
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)
The friends take it and reading the name on the Signet Ring, look at each other.
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 Śakuntalā 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,
(30) Even though she makes no response to my words
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 Duhşanta who delights in the chase is in our neighbourhood.
(31) Like swarms of locusts glittering in the sunset glow
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:
(32) Crazed with fear at the sight of a chariot,
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.
All listen and rise in alarm.
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 Gautami 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 sufficiently 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.
She follows her friends, gazing at the King all the time.
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 penance-groves; How hard it is for me to tear my thoughts away from Śakuntalā.
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.
Enter Mādhavya, the Court-jester and companion of the King.
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)
Enter the King as described.
KING (lost in deep thought, sighs, speaks to himself): Aah!
(1) Deeply loved, she is not easy to win;
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:
(2) That tender glance—the melting glow in her eyes,
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 Kanva’s daughter. For:
(3) I cannot bear to draw my well-strung bow
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?
Enter the Guard.
GUARD: Your Majesty’s command?
KING: Raivataka, let His Lordship, the General, be asked to attend.
RAIVATAKA: As my Royal Master commands.
Goes out and returns with the General.
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:
(4) He carries his magnificent frame
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.
(5) The body light, manly, ready for action,
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
(6) splashing,
striking the water repeatedly with their mighty horns;
let the herds of antelopes clustering in groups in the
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.
MADHAVYA: 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.
MADHAVYA (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!
(8) Why do people with upturned faces gaze
upon the crescent of the new moon with unblinking
eyes?
Apart from that, you know that Duhşanta’s mind is never drawn to forbidden things.
MADHAVYA: 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.
MADHAVYA (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.
MADHAVYA: 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:
(10) Contemplating Brahmā’s imaging power ineffable,
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.
MADHAVYA: Why then, she must put to shame all other beauties for all time.
KING: And I keep thinking… she is:
(11) A flower whose fragrance none has dared to smell;
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:
(12) When I turned towards her she turned her gaze away:
her smiles seemed the prologue to some other play;
with her demeanour thus veiled by modesty,
Love neither shone radiant nor was it concealed.
MADHAVYA (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?
(13) Having gone some steps, she stopped, unforeseen,
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.
MADHAVYA: 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?
MADHAVYA: 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:
(14) Perishable is the fruit of the yield
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.
Enter the Guard.
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.
Enter two young hermits with the Guard.
GUARD: This way, come this way, honourable sirs.
FIRS THERMIT (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
(15) He has embraced the worldly life
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 Duhşanta? Friend to Indra, the Destroyer of powerful Vala?16
FIRST HERMIT: Who else?
SECOND HERMIT:
(16) What wonder then that this heroic King
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):
(17) The Puru monarchs were first and foremost
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
Enter the Guard.
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)
Enter Karabhaka with the doorkeeper.
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.
(18) Required to perform duties in places
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:
(19) Between our royal self and that simple girl,
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.
MADHAVYA: Is that all?
(Exit all.)
Thus ends Act Two
entitled
CONCEALMENT OF THE TELLING
PRELUDE21
Scene: The Hermitage of Kanva.
Enter one of Kanva’s pupils.
PUPIL (with admiration): O what a mighty monarch Duhsanta is. No sooner had he entered our Hermitage than all our sacred rites became completely free of all unexpected disturbances.
(1) Why tell a long tale of arrows aimed and shot;
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.
Walks around, notices someone and speaks in the air.
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
Enter the King deeply in love.
KING (pensive, sighing):
(2) I know well the Holy Power of penance immense;
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:
(3) Śiva’s fiery wrath must still burn in you
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:
(4) False is the statement to lovers like me
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 dolphin-
bannered24 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:
(7) The cups of flowers she has just plucked
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.
(8) This breeze that wafts the fragrance of lotuses
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,
(9) At the entrance dusted with pale river sand
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)
The scene discovers Śakuntalā with her friends, as described.
FRIENDS (fanning her): Dear Śakuntalā, does the breeze of these lotus leaves soothe you somewhat?
ŚAKUNTALĀ (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:
(10) With Uśira-balm spread thick over her breasts
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.
PRIYAMVADA (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:
(11) Those bracelets of plaited lotus-fibre
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:
(12) Wan face with sunken cheeks, breasts no longer firm,
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.
(14) Love, the creator of my anguish
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.
ANASŪYA: Priyamvadû, 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.
ANASŪYA: 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:
(15) Hot tears welling up of anguish within, as I lie
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.
ANASUYĀ: 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:
(17) Longing for your love, the man you assume
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;
(18) With one eyebrow raised, curving deep as a tendril
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 well-chosen to convey my feelings.
FRIENDS: Go ahead, we are listening.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (reading)26:
(19) I do not know your heart,
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):
(20) Love burns you, true, my slender girl!
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.
(21) Your limbs aflame with pain that bite
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
(22) heart
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:
(23) Though many a wife may grace our palace-courts
none but two shall ever be the glory
and mainstay of our race—the Earth29
sea-girdled, and, this lady, your friend.
Śakuntalā is overjoyed.
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):
(24) I may overlook the onence,
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.
They prepare to leave.
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:
(25) Shall I raise cool breezes, waving over you
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
Gets up to leave; the King barring her way addresses her.
KING: Beautiful girl! The day is not cool as yet; look at your condition:
(26) Leaving your couch of flowers, throwing off
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
(27) his ends,
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 Kanva is well-versed in the Law; you will not cause him any distress. Listen,
(28) Many are the daughters of sages,
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!
(29) However far you may go from me,
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.
(30) How delicate is your body to be loved most gently!
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.
(31) This bright bracelet of lotus-stalks fragrant
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!
(32) This charming ornament of yours, my love,
having left your lovely arm to rest here,
consoles this unhappy man more than you have,
though it is only an insentient thing.
ŚAKUNTALA: 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
(33) water
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.
They both turn around and sit.
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?
ŚAKUNTALA (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.
ŚAKUNTALA (with a smile): If you wish.
KING (artfully delays and finally fixes the bracelet): See, lovely girl!
(35) Leaving the sky in search of richer beauty,
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):
(36) My love’s lower lip, soft and unbruised,
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!
(37) To inhale the fragrance of your face
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:
(38) She turned aside that lovely face
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)
(39) Here on the stone-slab is the bed of flowers
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:
(40) When next I find myself alone with her
—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!
(41 ) The evening rituals are in solemn progress;
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
PRELUDE
Scene: The Hermitage.
Enter Śakuntalā’s friends gathering flowers.
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.
They gather more flowers.
(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.
They are about to leave.
(The same voice off-stage rings out again): Woe to you, woe, you insolent girl who disregards the honoured guest standing at your door.
(1) You who do not notice me,
a hoard of holy merit
standing at your door,
because you are lost in thoughts of one
to the exclusion of all else,
you shail 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.
Hearing this, the girls are dismayed.
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.
They turn round and see Śakuntalā at the cottage door.
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.
ANASUYĀ: 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.
(2) Here, the moon, lord of healing herbs
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,
(3) Now that the Moon has set, the pool of moon-lotuses
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
(4) jujube trees
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
(5) Sumeru,
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.
Entering with a toss of the curtain.
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 Kanva that Śakuntalā is married to Duhşanta 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 Kanva 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 Duhşanta’s glowing energy
pledged for the well-being of the world.
ANASŪYĀ (embracing Piiyamvadā, 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 Durvā sprouts? (goes out)
Priyamvadā takes down the casket of Kesara flowers.
(A voice back-stage): Gautamī, bid Śārngarava 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.
Anasūyā enters with a tray of toiletries in her hand.
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.
GAUTAMŚ: 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.
Having blessed her they leave, all except Gautamī.
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.
The two friends sit down and pick up the tray containing the auspicious cosmetics.
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.
Enter a hermit boy bearing gifts for Śakuntalā.
BOY: Here are rich ornaments to adorn Lady Śakuntalā.
Everybody looks at him in amazement.
GAUTAMb: Hārita, 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’s adornment.’ So I went:
(7) A certain tree produced as if by magic
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.
Śakuntalā, bashful, looks down.
HĀRĪTA: I shall go now and inform Father Kanva 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.
The two friends begin adorning Śakuntalā with the ornaments. Enter Sage Kaṇva having finished his ablutions.
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.
Śakuntalā gets up and puts them on.
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.
Śakuntalā shyly makes reverential obeisance.
KANVA: My beloved child:
(9) Be held in high esteem by your lord
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.
Śakuntalā walks sun-wise round the fires.
KAṆVA (chants, using a Vedic metre):
(10) May these Sacrificial Fires
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?
They enter with—‘Holy Sir, here we are.’
KAṆVA: Śārṇgarava, show your sister the way.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA: This way, come this way, gracious lady.
All walk around.
KAṆVA: Hear, O hear, all you noble trees of the Holy Grove with indwelling divinities:
(11) She who never had a drink of water
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.
A koel sings.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA:
(12) Kin to her during her woodland sojourn
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):
(13) May her path be safe and gracious,38
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.
All listen in great amazement.
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.
ŚAKUNTALA (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:
(14) The doe tosses out mouthfuls of grass,
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,
(15) What I had contemplated from the first for you,
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.
All walk around.
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:
(16) It is the little fawn, your adopted son,
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:
(17) Brace your will and check this flow of welling tears
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 Duhşanta? (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:
(18) The cakravāka answers not the call of his love
with lotus-fibre dangling from his beak,
he gazes only at you.
ŚAKUNTALA: 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:
(19) She too spends the night away from her beloved,
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.
(20) KAṆVA: Consider us, who are rich in self-restraint,
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.
ŚARṆGARAVA: 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
(21) co-wives;
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?
(22) Occupying the honoured place of consort
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 friend)): 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
(23) Earth
extending to the far horizons; and borne
Duhşanta 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
GAUTAMĀ: 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)
(24) How can my grief ever leave me,
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, yoùr 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’s 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:
(25) A daughter is wealth belonging to another;
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’S DEPARTURE
PRELUDE
Enter the Royal Chamberlain.41
CHAMBERLAIN (sighing): Alas, how the years have taken their toll of me.
(1) This ceremonial staff of cane I took
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!
(2) Wakeful one moment,
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,
(3) Wearied caring for his subjects
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,
(4) The Sun yoked his coursers just that once;
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,
(5) Attainment of sovereignty merely lays to rest
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:
(6) Unmindful of your own ease, you toil
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:
(7) Grasping the rod of justice, you bring to heel
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.
They both sit down while the retinue stands in order of rank; the sound of a lute is heard in the background.
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 Hamsavati 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):
(8) O you honey-pilfering bee!
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:
(9) When a sadness ineffable falls
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.
He remains bewildered as if trying to recollect something.
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 Kanva; 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): Vetravati, I wonder why sage Kaṇva has sent these sages to our presence.
(10) Has the penance of sages of strict vows,
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.
Then enter Kaṇva’s pupils accompanied by Gautamī, bringing Śakuntalā; the Chamberlain and the Preceptor are in front leading the way.
CHAMBERLAIN: This way, this way, honoured ones.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA: Śāradvata, my friend:
(11) Granted, this King of unblemished nobleness
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
(12) As a man freshly bathed views one smeared with oil,
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.
They walk around.
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.
ŚARṆGARAVA: Most commendable, I grant you, O great Brāhmaṇa; even so, we view it all with an equal eye:
(13) Trees bend down when laden with fruit;
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.
VETRAVAI: 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?
(14) Who may she be, standing veiled, I wonder,
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.
VETRAVATI: Surely she does appear to be very beautiful, worth looking at, Sire.
KING: Enough, it is highly improper to stare at another’s wife.
ŚAKUNTALA (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?
ŚARṆGARAVA: 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?
ŚĀRNGARAVA: 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
(16) worth
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.
(17) You did not approach the elders in the matter,
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.
(18) The world suspects even the most virtuous woman
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:
(19a) Is this revulsion from a deed done?
Or disregard for one’s own actions?
Or turning away from one’s duty?
KING: This is a case of proceeding on a wrong assumption.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA:
(19b) Such fickleness generally swells
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):
(20) This glowing loveliness that is proffered unsought,
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?
ŚĀKUNTALĀ (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:
(21) Assenting gladly to your seizure of his daughter
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.
(22) Why are you out to sully your family’s honour,
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.
ŚAKUNTALA: 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.
ŚAKUNTALA (feeling for the ring): Ha! I am lost. The Ring is missing from my finger.
Looks at Gautamī, shattered.
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.
ŚAKUNTALA: 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.
ŚAKUNTALA: 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:
(23) Intuitive cunning is seen even in females
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.
(24) Her eyes red with anger look straight at me,
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,
(25) When I cruelly denied our secret love
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, Duhşanta’s life lies an open book before his subjects; it’s there for you to read too.
ŚAKUNTALĀ: O, so,
(26) You are the sole measure, and you, only you know
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)
ŚĀRṆAGARAVA: Thus does unbridled impulse destroy a person.
(27) Therefore, a marriage, specially one made in secret
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?
(28) The words of one who from birth
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.
(29) This then, is your wife, accept her, or abandon her;
a husband’s dominion over his wife is absolute.
Gautamī, lead the way.
The sages prepare to leave.
ŚAKUNTALĀ (calling out piteously): What’s this; here I am, betrayed by this cheat; are you also abandoning me?
Tries to follow Gautamī.
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?
Śakuntalā stops, frightened, trembling.
ŚĀRṆGARAVA:
(30) If you are what the King says you are,
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?
(31) The moon wakes only night-blooming lilies,
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?
(32) Am I deluded, or, is she false?
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.
ŚAKUNTALA (weeping): O gracious Goddess, Mother Earth, open wide and take me in.
(Exit the sages and Śakuntalā with the High Priest.)
The King remains musing over Śakuntalā but his memory is still clouded.
(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:
(33a) The young girl cursing her stars,
wept aloud, flinging her hands up.
KING: And then?
HIGH PRIEST:
(33b) A flash of light in a woman’s shape
from Apsarā Pool, snatched her up
and vanished straightaway.
Everyone is amazed.
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: Vetravati, I am deeply disturbed; lead the way to my chamber.
VETRAVATI: This way, this way, my lord.
KING (to himself):
(34) I have spurned the sage’s daughter, it is true,
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