The Sound of the Kiss

by Pingali Suranna

  Rambha, too, was afraid. “Just looking at this fierce man scares me. My whole body is trembling. How can I do this job for Indra? I took on the mission without thinking it through.” The fluttering of her eyelids seemed to have shifted to her mind.

  She composed herself, remembering the gravity of Indra’s command. Coming a little closer, she began playing garden games with her friends. Free of fear, they chased one another around the trees and bushes, sprinkled by the honey dripping from the flowers. They swung on branches, clustered around whoever was picking a bunch, humming and singing like the Love-God’s lyre. They were singing Vasanta and Hindola ragas as their jewels and bracelets jingled seductively. They played at words: “You tender girl, attend to this branch. Why run away? He won’t bite.” “Why fight over this single flower? If you want to play, there are plenty of others.” And so on. Meanwhile, Rambha closed in on Manikandhara. She was all curves and smiles. She walked, her hips swaying, her hair flying loose, the bodice slipping off her breastline, necklaces dangling. They were very beautiful breasts.

  As fate would have it, just at that moment Manikandhara was coming out of his meditation. He opened his eyes just wide enough to catch a glimpse of her, but that glimpse was enough to disturb him. He closed his eyes tightly again and tried to think of God. But those eyes that had seen what they had seen wouldn’t stay shut. He couldn’t help it. He opened them a crack. Called out to Krishna. Closed them again. Opened them again. Closed them. Desire and control were fighting it out in his mind.

  God solved it in accordance with the way things had to unfold. Desire won. The Love-God propelled Manikandhara’s mind toward the woman. He cut through the thick iron chains of this Yogi’s determination with the sharp edge of a flower.

  Manikandhara’s heart was burning in the Love-God’s flames, so he tried to cool himself in Rambha’s fluid beauty, like jumping into a lake. Once inside, he swam in delight and had no wish to get out.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Is this Rambha? I never thought she was so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He was driven by an urge to speak to her, touch her, embrace. He started fantasizing in his mind. “The campaka tree must have studied her nose in order to create its flowers.1 The kuruvaka tree first blossoms in her embrace.2 I wish I were that lucky. She kicked this tree with her ankleted foot, and now it’s flowering—so it must be an asoka. Her touch brought the mango to life. What good fortune. The prenkana bush blossoms when she sings to it, as the vavili does when she sniffs it. You trees respond to every move of hers. It’s not for nothing that poets compare you to men.

  “It’s very clear that sweetness flows from her words, and here’s the proof: the gogu flowers that unfold their petals as she speaks are dripping honey.

  “Rather than going to heaven alone, without this woman, it would be better to become a tree in the forest where she plays.

  “People may laugh at me for abandoning my life of meditation—let them laugh! If all the power I’ve acquired by my harsh discipline is wasted—let it go! Let all the clarity of understanding that I’ve achieved become clouded. I have to make love to her.”

  He cast off all his doubts. With a certain boldness, he went over to where she was playing. He asked, “Where are you from, and what are you doing here with your friends? Can I have the pleasure of hearing your voice?”

  “I just came here to play.”

  “That’s not true. You came here because I meditated on you.”

  She smiled slightly and bent her head. He could see that she agreed, so the earnest sage at once pulled at her sari.

  “Some gentleman you are,” she said. “There are other people around.” She struggled a little. She pulled her sari and his hand close to her breasts.

  The women nearby, who were pretending to be busy plucking flowers, moved away, winking at one another. “We got him. What man could possibly resist Rambha’s allure?”

  He was quivering with desire as he embraced her, pressing cheek to cheek. Twining his feet with hers, he gently maneuvered her into a secluded clearing hidden by thick flowering bushes. A thick carpet of petals—fallen to the ground because of the male bees fighting one another over the flowers—provided a soft bed, never before touched. He flung himself on her, weaving and twining himself into her without control, eager to get everything he could, squeezing her breasts and clawing at her everywhere, biting her lips in his vast hunger that had now been released. Seeing this masterful sage so suddenly engulfed by passion, she smiled and responded. “They say, and today it seems to be true, that when a gentle animal gets excited, you can’t keep it within bounds.”

  [ Kalabhashini Flies off with the Siddha ]

  At this moment, in Dvaraka, the Siddha who was listening to Kalabhashini singing brought up Manikandhara again. She asked him, “Tell me how Manikandhara’s self-control is holding up, now that Rambha has gone there under orders from Indra. Please have a look.”

  He used his telescopic vision and said with a smile, “What self-control? He’s busy in her arms, right there in the forest.”

  She was again stunned by Manistambha’s ability to see so far. She praised him over and over and invited him to stay in her house for a few days as her guest. He said, “I came here because I was in love with your music. I’m no garden-variety Siddha, the sort that goes around showing his powers. I will accept your offer if you can keep my presence here secret.”

  “Fine,” she said, and kept him hidden in her garden for two or three days, wining and dining him. She wouldn’t let anyone else come in. She made him very happy. But her true wish was to find a way to make love to Nalakubara, so after a while she turned the conversation back to Manikandhara, in the hope of finding out more about Rambha.

  “I’m surprised that Manikandhara allowed his discipline to be disturbed. Tell me, though—has he resumed his self-control? Or is he still with that woman? I need to know.”

  He had another look in the direction of the sage. “No question of self-control any more. Now our great ascetic is living in her embrace.”

  “Are they going to stay in that place for some time, or are they thinking of going somewhere else? Please look again. I hope I’m not embarrassing you with these repeated requests, but I really must know.”

  “I’m not embarrassed. I’ll take a look as many times as you want me to. A rock is not ticklish. I’m in full control.”

  Again he turned his gaze in the direction of Manikandhara and cupped his ear, listening intently, signaling with the other hand to Kalabhashini to keep quiet. After a while he said, “This is what you get out of a whore.” He laughed.

  “Tell me what you saw,” she said.

  “What can I say? I can’t stop laughing. She already ruined his discipline. Now listen to what she did to his happiness. She got him totally infatuated with her and then, at the height of his lovemaking, she called out, ‘Hey Nalakubara! Enough. I’m exhausted.’ So naturally, Manikandhara’s heart sank.”

  The Siddha was laughing.

  “Why are you laughing?” said Kalabhashini. “What else can she do? Nalakubara probably is a superb lover. He drives her crazy. I wonder where he is now? Somewhere far away? Turn your gaze toward him.”

  The Siddha laughed again. “This is what you really want, isn’t it?” He turned his eyes this way and that, zeroing in on Nalakubara. “If he follows her everywhere, she’ll be distracted by his presence and won’t be able to do her work, which is to seduce sages. Indra won’t stand for it; it makes him angry. So Nalakubara doesn’t go with her on business trips. On the other hand, he can’t not go. He can’t stand the separation. So at the moment he’s near that forest. He’s waiting in a mango grove under a flowering tree.

  “Well, I think I’ll be off. Your mind is on him, and you can’t sing for me at the moment. Anyway, there’s nothing else for me to do here. So I’ll take my leave.”

  Kalabhashini was alarmed. “Mahatma! You are my good-luck god. I relied on you. If you leave me, what will happ
en to my life?”

  “What are you saying? I’ll come from time to time.”

  “Sure. Definitely. No doubt you’ll be back. Just listen to what I want you to do. Bring me to him this very minute, somehow or other. There’s no other way, if you want to help me. Women are notoriously impatient. What’s more, no one but you can do this. Only you have the power, and you seem to care for me.”

  “Listen, woman. If I had the power to take you to him, would I hide it from you? I shouldn’t even mention it in so many words, but you don’t know how hungry I am for your singing. I know that if I bring you to the man you love, you’ll sing again. But just think: Nalakubara is in Kerala, near the temple of the god Padmanabha, resting on his snake. How can someone here in Dvaraka get there in one day?

  But then, come to think of it, my teachers trained the lion I ride on. It can go there in a couple of hours. We don’t even have to concern ourselves with the cost. But if I seat you on the back, what will other Siddhas think of me? Besides, it’s completely inappropriate for people like me even to touch someone like you. Still, there’s no other solution. My telescopic sight and hearing won’t help us here. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Great Siddha! What difference does it make how you take me there? Who cares if idiots who don’t know your power talk about you? Those who know you won’t think badly of you. You say it’s inappropriate for you to touch someone like me, but is it acceptable for you to watch me die? Enough said. Soon my friends will turn up, and everything will be ruined. So just seat me on that lion behind you and take me quickly to the man I’m in love with.”

  The Siddha saddled his lion with a tiger skin, tied with a snake-skin girth; he attached stirrups of gold (that he had converted from base metal), strings of conch, a bridle made from the magic vine that gives control to a rider. With a sword hanging in a bear-skin sheath on his side, he mounted this elephant-eating vehicle. “Can you get on behind me, and stay on, without touching me?” he asked. “Grab hold of that handle.”

  “With your kindness, I can do it.”

  He made the lion crouch a bit so she could climb on.

  “I trust you’re taking me via a route where nobody can see us,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. If the bullocks and the cart work together, you can climb any hill.”

  He spurred the lion, crying “Dhe!” As the lion picked up speed, he looked back a few times at Kalabhashini and called to her, “Hold on tight!” For liftoff, he chose a route hidden by the trees growing on the walls around the houses and the thick shrubs filled with burning incense meant to make them blossom in time. Using them as cover, he managed to fly away unseen. Soon, to his surprise, he saw a line of very beautiful women emerging from behind a massive cloud. They were singing with great skill and sweetness. Their song was like a gentle fragrant shower sprinkling their silk shawls. It was a joy to see them. They were also chattering with one another, and listening to them, Manistambha realized that they were Rambha’s friends. He said to them, “What are you doing here? Where is Rambha? Did she decide to stay with Manikandhara for a few more days in the forest? Is she so in love with him that she can’t leave?”

  They laughed. “What Manikandhara? We don’t even know where he is. Rambha is happily lying in Nalakubara’s arms, playing new love-games. We saw that she was overjoyed to be reunited with her true lover and that she is totally absorbed in making love to him, so we didn’t have the heart to ask her to come with us. We’re going home.”

  They went their way, giggling to one another, “This gentleman can ride a play lion through the sky, but look at what he’s wearing—those ugly vines and rags and skins and matted hair. Where did this crazy Yogi find such a beautiful girl? If she were to go to heaven for even a minute, she’d immediately enslave all the young gods.”

  [ The Temple of the Lion-Riding Goddess ]

  The news that Nalakubara and Rambha were back together had a depressing effect on Kalabhashini, as Manistambha saw at once. He smiled at her. “Don’t be sad. Compose yourself. All your worries will end in a few minutes. Believe me.” She brightened a little.

  “How can you say this so confidently?”

  “You’ll see shortly. Why ask how the curry tastes when you’re about to start eating?”

  Suddenly, the lion stopped, stretching its neck upward, as if its way was blocked. Until now it had been flying smoothly.

  The Siddha struck it again and again with his whip and yelled “Hum!” He dug his heels into its sides to spur it forward. He held the bridle firmly in his hand so that the lion wouldn’t move its head right or left and hit its head with his snake-shaped cane so that it wouldn’t move upward. He made a huge effort, but no matter what he did, the lion wouldn’t budge an inch. Instead, it gave a terrible roar and, twisting its tail, stepped backward.

  Kalabhashini almost slipped off. “What’s going on?” she screamed, breaking out in a sweat. Her hair came undone, and the sash of her sari covering her breasts fell off. She lost her seat, but held on to the wooden handle with both hands.

  The Siddha realized why they were stuck. “Don’t panic,” he said to her. “Hold on tight to that handle. It’s my mistake. I was lost in conversation, so I forgot.” He turned the lion around and brought it down for a landing. Dismounting, he asked Kalabhashini to follow him. Sending the lion off to graze, he said, “Near here there is a temple of the goddess known as Mrigendra-vahana, Lion-Rider. There’s a lion standing in front of the shrine. No other lion, no matter how powerful, can cross this area, up, down, left or right, without paying its respects. I completely forgot. That’s why our lion was heading straight here, though I tried to urge it forward. We should also worship the goddess, and then we’ll succeed. Come with me.”

  Taking his sword in the bear-skin sheath, he set down the lion’s saddle in a safe place and guided the girl to the temple, where he asked her to wait on the front porch. “I’ll be right back,” he said, “with flowers for our worship.”

  As she waited, Kalabhashini caught sight of an old lady. White hair, like a bundle of dried-out hay. Wrinkled eyebrows like cobwebs intertwined. Folds of skin like a cracked veneer of gold paint. Arms and sagging breasts like broken-off branches still hanging by a thread to the tree. She was wheezing and hooting like an owl as she struggled forward, like a deserted palace once home to desire.

  She came close to Kalabhashini. “Where have you come from, my girl? How were you trapped by this man, like a parrot by a wildcat? Did you think he was a Siddha? I saw you from a distance. How beautiful you are! Your loveliness lights up the forest. I’m worried that you—the whole purpose of creation—have fallen into the hands of this merciless man. Run away quickly, before this treacherous fellow comes back. I can’t bear to watch your splendid body fall victim to the sword.

  “If I had even a little time, I’d love to ask you your name, your story, and all that. But I’d much prefer that you get away before he comes. You might wonder why I’m being so harsh right away, without even asking if he happens to be your benefactor, your father, a beloved brother, or if he’s taking you somewhere you want to go. But I know this man. I’ve seen his ways. He makes me crazy.”

  Kalabhashini listened and took it in. “If I think it over, this old woman’s words ring true. This Siddha is a con man. Now I understand what he meant when he said, just now, that all my worries would end in a few minutes. He’s going to sacrifice me to the goddess. There’s no doubt. If you think about it, there’s no escaping what Brahma wrote on your forehead at birth. I was born in the city of Krishna, who is known to save us from misfortune. I’m a courtesan. But cultured people still invite me to their company. Narada himself, the greatest sage in all three worlds, treats me no differently than any other disciple. I studied music from God’s wife and Indra’s wife. And here I am about to be the sacrificial animal in a rite performed by that pseudo-Siddha.”

  In her unhappiness, she began to regret having escaped from her friends. “You can’t cut yourself lose f
rom what you are fated to suffer through—except by suffering through it.” Still, she steadied herself and, controlling the shakiness in her voice, asked the old woman, “Mother, what you say appears to be true. I had no idea who this con man really was. I thought he would help me to achieve a certain thing I wanted, so rather desperately I came with him. Now there’s no way out. Where can I run to? He’s too fast for me. And he has telescopic vision. He’ll see me wherever I hide.”

  “Oh, so you know he can see into the distance?”

  “That’s how he fooled me and brought me here.” She told the old woman her entire story, beginning with his turning up in her garden, right up to the end. In the course of it she also told her name, her family, her training, and her overriding passion. “I had no other thought except to fulfill this desire. You go out to graze and fall into a lethal trap.”

  “It’s all true. He tricked you into coming here, for his own purposes. He can’t accomplish what he wants, even after attaining the gift of distant sight and hearing, unless he has a human being. Many times I’ve heard him say, ‘After all the trouble I took to acquire these skills, it would be nice to have a kingdom to rule.’ For this purpose he’s been searching all over for a woman from the courtesan class of surpassing beauty and superb musical talent. He’s always plucking the strings of his lute, and with his ability to hear what is far away and his connoisseur’s knowledge, he looks for music from all over the world.”

  “Was it here that he acquired the ability to see and hear from a distance? How many people did he behead to get those powers? Do you know? Tell me that story, to pass the time. Nobody can avert what’s going to happen, good or evil. Why should I worry about what he’ll do to me when he comes, or about how I am to die? The goddess will take care of it.”

  “You’re a very intelligent and courageous woman. I’ll tell you. Even though the methods of acquiring those powers are terrible, they don’t involve killing others. They only require a certain fearlessness. He had to tear out his eyes with a sharp pincer and pierce his ears with a needle. Both these tools are hanging from a pillar near the lion in front of the temple, on which some letters are carved. You may also notice a knife covered with flowers and sandalpaste and a head-chopper, which people use on themselves.” The old lady took her by the hand and pointed them out. “They wrote on this pillar what you need to do for each particular wish. Read it, if you know that script.”