by Tagore
Bashambad:Please wait . . . Achchhooo!
Kunjabihari:Out!
Bashambad:I’m getting out right away . . . I have no desire to remain in this garden a minute longer . . . If I don’t leave this place, my very soul will leave my body. Achchhooo! The loveliness of the sharat season is streaming out of my nose and eyes. I’ll soon die sneezing. Achchhooo achchhooo! Cough-cough! But Kunja Babu, if that job . . . Achchhooo!
(Kunja Babu wraps his shawl around himself and gazes silently at the moon)
Enter attendant
Attendant:Your dinner is served.
Kunjabihari:Why did you take so long? Should it take you two hours to serve my food?
Rushes off
The Land of Cards
Cast:
Prince
Merchant
Patralekha
Rani Ma
Pack of Cards
Five
Six
King
Queen
Aces, including Haratani Tekka
Knave
Iskabani
Tekkani
Chiretani
Ruiton Saheb
Dahalani
Ten
Scene 1
Enter Prince and Merchant
Prince:I can’t take it any more, my friend.
Merchant:What makes you restless, Prince?
Prince:How can I explain it? Can you explain the restlessness of those flocks of wild ducks flying towards the Himalayas?
Merchant:But that’s their home.
Prince:If it’s their home, why do they come away? No, no, it’s the joy of flying, a joy that has no reason.
Merchant:Do you want to fly?
Prince:Indeed, I do.
Merchant:I don’t understand you at all. Even staying imprisoned in a cage for a reason is better, I’d say, than flying for no reason at all.
Prince:Why do you say there’s a reason for staying confined?
Merchant:Because we remain shackled inside a golden cage to satisfy our greed for food and drink.
Prince:You won’t understand! You won’t understand at all.
Merchant:It is my own weakness: I simply can’t understand things that are beyond comprehension. Why not explain more clearly, what it is that you find intolerable?
Prince:Our monotonous life in this palace.
Merchant:You call it monotonous? With so many comforts, so many luxuries?
Prince:I feel I resemble a stone idol in a golden temple. My ears always filled with the same monotonous sound of the conch-shell and the temple gong! Receiving my regular portion of uncooked rice in the naibedya offering, but unable to relish the bhog, the cooked meal blessed by the deity! How can one tolerate this?
Merchant:But the likes of us find it very easy to tolerate. It’s a mercy our rations are fixed and regular. If our bonds were loosened, we’d be struggling to survive. What we get is sufficient to feed our appetite. But as for people like you, what you don’t get is what you crave for, to satisfy your mental hunger.
Prince:And every day one is forced to listen to eulogies sung by those minstrels, set to the same fixed rhythm—the same old metre.
Merchant:But the oftener eulogies are heard, the more enjoyable they become, I feel. They never grow stale.
Prince:One has barely woken up when that tone-deaf bunch begins to perform. And every morning, to be blessed with dhan-durba, grass and paddy, by the same priest our purut thakur! And going in and out, I see that old minder standing upright beside the door, just like a wooden puppet. I just have to try stepping out somewhere, and the armed guard appears at once, crying, ‘Where are you going? Where are you going?’ All of them have choked my heart into silence, I feel.
Merchant:Why, when you go hunting occasionally, there’s nothing but wildlife to disturb your peace.
Prince:What’s your idea of wildlife? Indeed, I suspect the royal hunter dopes the tigers with opium, for the creatures seem to have adopted the path of nonviolence. So far I haven’t seen a single tiger accomplish a respectable leap.
Merchant:Say what you will, I don’t find the tigers’ conduct uncivil. The pomp and ceremony of the hunt remains intact; only our hearts no longer quake in fear.
Prince:The other day, I had shot a bear with my arrow, from a great distance, raising cries of glory all around. ‘What a skilful marksman the prince is!’ they all exclaimed. Afterwards, I heard rumours that they had stuffed a bearskin with straw, and set it up. I couldn’t bear such extreme ridicule. I have condemned the hunter to prison.
Merchant:You have done him good. That prison of his adjoins the inner quarters of Rani Ma the Queen, so he’s quite comfortable. Why, just the other day, I sent across three maunds of ghee and thirty-three lambs for him, from our place.
Prince:What’s the meaning of all this!
Merchant:That bear was created upon the Rani Ma’s orders, after all.
Prince:You see! We are fenced in with falsehoods. Languishing in the cage of safety, our wings have grown stiff. Everything here is a farce, from beginning to end. They have made a clown prince of me. I feel like tearing apart my regal attire. Seeing those people tilling their fields out there, I think to myself that they are fortunate to be born as farmers, a fortune earned through the merits of their forefathers.
Merchant:And try asking them what they think about you? What nonsensical things you’re saying, Prince! You’re concealing your real thoughts. O Patralekha, it’s you who might gauge the secret thoughts of our Prince. Why not ask him about them, once?
Enter Patralekha, a young woman
(Song)
Patralekha:Your secret will be hid no more,
In your silent gaze it will be out—
Prince:No, no, no, it can be hid no more.
Patralekha:It emerges in your blissful smile,
It appears in the music of your flute, And trembles on your lips, as you secretly dream.
Prince:No, no, no, it can be hid no more.
Patralekha:The bee is humming,
And in exquisite agony, thirsty for light, The ashoka has burst into bloom.
The heart’s lotus, thousand-petalled, Trembles on the water
In the melancholy light of a rosy dawn . . .
Prince:No, no, no, it can be hid no more.
Prince:Indeed, I have a secret; it’s hidden in the sky, somewhere far away. From the ocean’s edge, I gaze at the western horizon. I shall set out in search of what my destiny has concealed there, like the underworld treasure guarded by a yaksha.
(Song)
On a trading venture I’ll set forth,
On a merchant-ship I’ll sail.
If fortune’s goddess should forsake me,
Let misfortune prevail.
Merchant:What’s this you say! Merchant-ship?
But you’re chanting a trader’s mantra!
Prince:I’ll set my ship in order, and
Employ a thousand hands;
To cross the unknown seas, and reach
Some far-off, unknown lands.
I’ll cling no more to land and shore,
Following an unknown star, I’ll go;
Whither I’ll sail, I do not know,
On the ocean’s dark expanse . . .
But in vain hope I shall not mope
On this shore of golden sands.
Merchant:To navigate the shoreless sea and vanish without trace—that’s not a merchant’s route. Have you received any tidings of this route?
Prince:Indeed, I have. In hints and suggestions, in my dreams.
A green isle in the ocean’s lap,
With coral circled round.
On its mountaintops, the seabirds all
Have made their nesting-ground.
The wild and stormy gusts of wind
Make the coconut palm-fronds sway,
And between the trees of the forest dense,
The river snakes its way.
The seven kings’ treasure will be mine,
If I can
reach that land someday.
Merchant:From your tune, it’s clear that this treasure is not what merchants trade in. Tell me, what is this treasure called?
Prince:Nabina! Nabina—she who embodies newness!
Merchant:Nabina! At last, a clear answer.
Prince:But her image is still far from clear.
(Song)
O Nabina! O Nabina!
The trodden path you have forsaken.
In the springtime breeze, your voice I hear;
’Midst the golden clouds, I feel you’re there,
At dawn, as soon as I awaken.
Merchant:It will be hard to obtain this dream treasure of yours, I warn you.
Prince:You yield to me in dreams alone,
Why do you mock and tease me so!
Those alaka blossoms in your hair—
In which paradise do they grow?
What unknown melody, O Nabina,
Do you play in solitude, on your veena!
Enter Rani Ma
Merchant:Rani Ma, he wants to catch an illusion in a net.
He wants to discover the land of fairy tales. Rani Ma:How can you say that! Do you want to become a child once more?
Prince:Yes, Ma, my spirit feels suffocated in the world of maturity, walled in by wisdom.
Rani Ma:I understand son, what you really lack is lack itself. You have developed a distaste for everything you have got. You want to want something, for you haven’t had that opportunity so far.
Prince:(Song)
‘I want, I want!’ my heart cries out,
‘O I want what was never mine.’
In the midst of all that I possess,
I’m filled with longing, nevertheless,
For what was never, never mine.
I must lose myself, before
I can find myself anew;
The evening star must set, to rise
As the morning star, it’s true.
‘Farewell!’ it says, ‘I must depart,
I must no longer shine.’
Ma:Son, if I cling to you, I’ll lose you. You can’t bear the burden of luxury, or the bondage of being served by others. I shall not let my fears bring you harm. I’ll mark your forehead with white sandal paste, and adorn your white turban with a bunch of white karabi blossoms. Let me go and arrange a prayer ritual for our family deity. At dusk, after performing the evening arati ritual, I’ll anoint your eyes with kohl from the soot of the prayer-lamp. It will unblock your vision for the journey.
Exit Rani Ma
Prince:(Song)
See how the waves in the ocean rise,
How swiftly the storm-winds blow!
Through the clouds on the skyline in the west,
Watch the sunset cast its glow! I look to the north,
I look to the south,
But froth is all I see. I’ll touch rock-bottom, that’s for sure,
If the seashore eludes me.
But in despair, without a hope, Homebound I’ll no more be.
To an unknown place I’m headed now,
Adrift in the shoreless brine.
I am the solitary oarsman, on
This empty vessel of mine. Spurred on by a novel breeze,
I’ll rove from isle to isle;
I’ll fill my boat with a precious load,
A fabulous treasure-pile.
My heart that like a beggar roamed,
Will return in royal style.
Scene 2
Enter Prince and Merchant
Prince:We set sail from one shore, then our boat drowned in mid-ocean, and now we have floated up to a different shore. At last, I feel, my life has entered a new phase.
Merchant:Prince, you are ever restless in your quest for what is new. What is new is precisely what I fear. Say what you will, my friend, one feels comfortable with the old.
Prince:The frog is comfortable in a dark well. Don’t you realize that we have resurfaced after drowning? Yama, the god of death, has smeared our foreheads with the sacred mark of a new life.
Merchant:But you were born with a mark, the mark of royalty on your forehead.
Prince:That was the mark of fate’s beggarly alms to me. Erasing it from my forehead with the waters of the ocean, Lord Yama has decreed that I must conquer my new kingdom with new force, in a new land.
(Song)
To a new land we have come!
A place that we’ve never seen before!
Our broken boat was sunk, and we have drifted to the shore.
Some unknown spirit will offer new hope
For what the future holds in store.
A many-coloured web it’ll weave,
In motley strands of pain and pleasure.
To the strains of a novel melody, now,
Our hearts will dance to a novel measure.
Our souls will be stirred by a strange new pain
That will make our smiles and tears combine.
With nameless flowers, my nameless love
Will garland me and give her heart to mine.
When she dances on the grass in spring,
With youthful zest will her anklets ring;
The southern breeze, with its wild caresses
Will stir the clove vines, and her open tresses.
Merchant:Prince, these words sound good when set to music. But I ask you, where in this land have you discovered a new vision of youth? I’ve inspected the whole place once, and it resembles a wooden grove constructed by a carpenter. I saw the people with their angular, wooden gait, bodies completely flat, footsteps going clickety-clack, as if they’re wearing square anklets of tamarind wood. Can this dead place be called a new land?
Prince:From these very signs, you should realize that this appearance is not real but invented, imposed from above, an outer shell created by the learned pundits of this land. What have we come here for? We’ll rip off the shell. When the raw inner spirit is exposed, it will leave you wonderstruck.
Merchant:We merchants judge the value of things only from what can be clearly seen. And you people only have faith in what you cannot see. Achchha, let us see whether any sparks emerge from the embers or not. I feel convinced we’ll lose our breath trying to blow upon the ashes. There! Look! They’re heading this way. It’s like a dance of corpses possessed by spirits!
Prince:Let’s move aside, and see what this bizarre scene is all about.
Enter Pack of Cards. Parade of cards.
(Song)
Up and down,
Forward, backward,
Left and right,
We do not glance.
Stand and sit,
Open and shut,
A topsy-turvy
Crooked deal,
That’s all! That’s it!
Merchant:Do you see that? Red suit and black, rising, falling, lying, sitting, for no reason at all—how bizarre! Ha ha ha ha!
Six:What’s this! Laughter!
Five:Have you no shame! Laughter!
Six:Do you follow no rules! Laughter!
Prince:Laughter has some meaning, after all. But your actions have no meaning!
Six:Meaning? What use is meaning? We want rules. Don’t you understand? Are you lunatics?
Prince:It’s not easy to identify a true lunatic. How did you identify us?
Five:From your body language.
Price:What did you notice?
Six:We noticed that you have motion but no style.
Merchant:And you have style I suppose, but no motion?
Five:Don’t you know, it is style that’s ancient, while motion is modern, immature, inexperienced and underdeveloped.
Six:You have not been reared by traditional gurus. Nobody has explained to you that the streets are full of pits, wet ditches, thorns and prickles—that movement is fraught with danger.
Prince:This land belongs to the gurus, indeed. I’ll throw myself upon their mercy.
Six:And now, would you tell us who you are?
Prince:We come from another land.
>
Five:Enough. Say no more. That means you have no caste, no lineage, no sacred ancestors, no village, no clan, no community, no class, no status.
Prince:We have nothing, nothing at all. Shorn of all else, you can see what we are left with. Now, tell us who you are?
Six:We belong to the world-famous Card family. I am Six Sharman.
Five:I am Five Barman.
Prince:And all those others, standing diffidently at a distance?
Six:The blackish one there is Three Ghosh.
Five:And the reddish one here is Two Das.
Merchant:What were the origins of your race?
Six:Lord Brahma felt exhausted as he laboured to create the universe. At dusk, he yawned for the first time. We were born of that sacred yawn.
Five:That is why, in some heretic tongues, we are known as the Yawn dynasty, rather than the Card dynasty.
Merchant:Amazing!
Six:At the sacred twilight hour, our four-faced Grandsire Brahma yawned four times at once.
Merchant:How extraordinary! What was the result?
