by Kalidasa
Clown. Well, he doesn't seem afraid of your dreadful punishment. (Laughing. To himself.) The man is crazy, and I am just as bad, from associating with him.
King. Will he not go, though I warn him?
Mishrakeshi. Love works a curious change even in a brave man.
Clown (aloud). It is only a picture, man.
King. A picture?
Mishrakeshi. I too understand it now. But to him, thoughts are real experiences.
King. You have done an ill-natured thing.
When I was happy in the sight,
And when my heart was warm,
You brought sad memories back, and made
My love a painted form.
(He sheds a tear.)
Mishrakeshi. Fate plays strangely with him.
King. My friend, how can I endure a grief that has no respite?
I cannot sleep at night
And meet her dreaming;
I cannot see the sketch
While tears are streaming.
Mishrakeshi. My friend, you have indeed atoned—and in her friend's presence—for the pain you caused by rejecting dear Shakuntala. (Enter the maid CHATURIKA.)
Maid. Your Majesty, I was coming back with the box of paint-brushes—--
King. Well?
Maid. I met Queen Vasumati with the maid Pingalika. And the queen snatched the box from me, saying: "I will take it to the king myself."
Clown. How did you escape?
Maid. The queen's dress caught on a vine. And while her maid was setting her free, I excused myself in a hurry. A voice behind the scenes. Follow me, your Majesty.
Clown (listening). Man, the she-tiger of the palace is making a spring on her prey. She means to make one mouthful of the maid.
King. My friend, the queen has come because she feels touched in her honour. You had better take care of this picture.
Clown. "And yourself," you might add. (He takes the picture and rises.) If you get out of the trap alive, call for me at the Cloud Balcony. And I will hide the thing there so that nothing but a pigeon could find it. (Exit on the run.)
Mishrakeshi. Though his heart is given to another, he is courteous to his early flame. He is a constant friend.
(Enter the portress with a document.)
Portress. Victory to your Majesty.
King. Vetravati, did you not meet Queen Vasumati?
Portress. Yes, your Majesty. But she turned back when she saw that I carried a document.
King. The queen knows times and seasons. She will not interrupt business.
Portress. Your Majesty, the minister sends word that in the press of various business he has attended to only one citizen's suit. This he has reduced to writing for your Majesty's perusal.
King. Give me the document. (The portress does so.)
King (reads). "Be it known to his Majesty. A seafaring merchant named Dhanavriddhi has been lost in a shipwreck. He is childless, and his property, amounting to several millions, reverts to the crown. Will his Majesty take action?" (Sadly.) It is dreadful to be childless. Vetravati, he had great riches. There must be several wives. Let inquiry be made. There may be a wife who is with child.
Portress. We have this moment heard that a merchant's daughter of Saketa is his wife. And she is soon to become a mother.
King. The child shall receive the inheritance. Go, inform the minister.
Portress. Yes, your Majesty. (She starts to go.)
King. Wait a moment.
Portress (turning back). Yes, your Majesty. King. After all, what does it matter whether he have issue or not?
Let King Dushyanta be proclaimed
To every sad soul kin
That mourns a kinsman loved and lost,
Yet did not plunge in sin.
Portress. The proclamation shall be made. (She goes out and soon returns.) Your Majesty, the royal proclamation was welcomed by the populace as is a timely shower.
King (sighing deeply). Thus, when issue fails, wealth passes, on the death of the head of the family, to a stranger. When I die, it will be so with the glory of Puru's line.
Portress. Heaven avert the omen!
King. Alas! I despised the happiness that offered itself to me.
Mishrakeshi. Without doubt, he has dear Shakuntala in mind when he thus reproaches himself.
King.
Could I forsake the virtuous wife
Who held my best, my future life
And cherished it for glorious birth,
As does the seed-receiving earth?
Mishrakeshi. She will not long be forsaken.
Maid (to the portress). Mistress, the minister's report has doubled our lord's remorse. Go to the Cloud Balcony and bring Madhavya to dispel his grief.
Portress. A good suggestion. (Exit.)
King. Alas! The ancestors of Dushyanta are in a doubtful case.
For I am childless, and they do not know,
When I am gone, what child of theirs will bring
The scriptural oblation; and their tears
Already mingle with my offering.
Mishrakeshi. He is screened from the light, and is in darkness.
Maid. Do not give way to grief, your Majesty. You are in the prime of your years, and the birth of a son to one of your other wives will make you blameless before your ancestors. (To herself.) He does not heed me. The proper medicine is needed for any disease. King (betraying his sorrow). Surely,
The royal line that flowed
A river pure and grand,
Dies in the childless king,
Like streams in desert sand.
(He swoons.)
Maid (in distress). Oh, sir, come to yourself.
Mishrakeski. Shall I make him happy now? No, I heard the mother of the gods consoling Shakuntala. She said that the gods, impatient for the sacrifice, would soon cause him to welcome his true wife. I must delay no longer. I will comfort dear Shakuntala with my tidings. (Exit through the air.)
A voice behind the scenes. Help, help!
King (comes to himself and listens). It sounds as if Madhavya were in distress.
Maid. Your Majesty, I hope that Pingalika and the other maids did not catch poor Madhavya with the picture in his hands.
King. Go, Chaturika. Reprove the queen in my name for not controlling her servants.
Maid. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)
The voice. Help, help!
King. The Brahman's voice seems really changed by fear. Who waits without? (Enter the chamberlain.)
Chamberlain. Your Majesty commands?
King. See why poor Madhavya is screaming so.
Chamberlain. I will see. (He goes out, and returns trembling.)
King. Parvatayana, I hope it is nothing very dreadful.
Chamberlain. I hope not.
King. Then why do you tremble so? For
Why should the trembling, born
Of age, increasing, seize
Your limbs and bid them shake
Like fig-leaves in the breeze?
Chamberlain. Save your friend, O King!
King. From what?
Chamberlain. From great danger.
King. Speak plainly, man.
Chamberlain. On the Cloud Balcony, open to the four winds of heaven—--
King. What has happened there?
Chamberlain.
While he was resting on its height,
Which palace peacocks in their flight
Can hardly reach, he seemed to be
Snatched up—by what, we could not see.
King (rising quickly). My very palace is invaded by evil creatures. To be a king, is to be a disappointed man.
The moral stumblings of mine own,
The daily slips, are scarcely known;
Who then that rules a kingdom, can
Guide every deed of every man?
The voice. Hurry, hurry!
King (hears the voice and quickens his steps). Have no fear, my friend.
The voice. Have no fear! When some
thing has got me by the back of the neck, and is trying to break my bones like a piece of sugar-cane!
King (looks about). A bow! a bow! (Enter a Greek woman with a bow.)
Greek woman. A bow and arrows, your Majesty. And here are the finger-guards. (The king takes the bow and arrows.)
Another voice behind the scenes.
Writhe, while I drink the red blood flowing clear
And kill you, as a tiger kills a deer;
Let King Dushyanta grasp his bow; but how
Can all his kingly valour save you now?
King (angrily). He scorns me, too! In one moment, miserable demon, you shall die. (Stringing his bow.) Where is the stairway, Parvatayana?
Chamberlain. Here, your Majesty. (All make haste.)
King (Looking about). There is no one here.
The Clown's voice. Save me, save me! I see you, if you can't see me. I am a mouse in the claws of the cat. I am done for. King. You are proud of your invisibility. But shall not my arrow see you? Stand still. Do not hope to escape by clinging to my friend.
My arrow, flying when the bow is bent,
Shall slay the wretch and spare the innocent;
When milk is mixed with water in a cup,
Swans leave the water, and the milk drink up.
(He takes aim. Enter MATALI and the clown.)
Matali. O King, as Indra, king of the gods, commands,
Seek foes among the evil powers alone;
For them your bow should bend;
Not cruel shafts, but glances soft and kind
Should fall upon a friend.
King (hastily withdrawing the arrow). It is Matali. Welcome to the charioteer of heaven's king.
Clown. Well! He came within an inch of butchering me. And you welcome him.
Matali (smiling). Hear, O King, for what purpose Indra sends me to you.
King. I am all attention.
Matali. There is a host of demons who call themselves Invincible—the brood of Kalanemi.
King. So Narada has told me.
Matali.
Heaven's king is powerless; you shall smite
His foes in battle soon;
Darkness that overcomes the day,
Is scattered by the moon.
Take your bow at once, enter my heavenly chariot, and set forth for victory.
King. I am grateful for the honour which Indra shows me. But why did you act thus toward Madhavya?
Matali. I will tell you. I saw that you were overpowered by some inner sorrow, and acted thus to rouse you. For
The spurnèd snake will swell his hood;
Fire blazes when 'tis stirred;
Brave men are roused to fighting mood
By some insulting word.
King. Friend Madhavya, I must obey the bidding of heaven's king. Go, acquaint the minister Pishuna with the matter, and add these words of mine:
Your wisdom only shall control
The kingdom for a time;
My bow is strung; a distant goal
Calls me, and tasks sublime.
Clown. Very well. (Exit.)
Matali. Enter the chariot. (The king does so. Exeunt omnes.)
ACT VII
(Enter, in a chariot that flies through the air, the king and MATALI.)
King. Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most gracious welcome.
Matali. O King, know that each considers himself the other's debtor. For
You count the service given
Small by the welcome paid,
Which to the king of heaven
Seems mean for such brave aid.
King. Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on his throne. And then
He smiled, because his son Jayanta's heart
Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed,
And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath
Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast.
Matali. But what do you not deserve from heaven's king? Remember:
Twice, from peace-loving Indra's sway
The demon-thorn was plucked away:
First, by Man-lion's crooked claws;
Again, by your smooth shafts to-day.
King. This merely proves Indra's majesty. Remember:
All servants owe success in enterprise
To honour paid before the great deed's done;
Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise
Than resting on the chariot of the sun?
Matali. The feeling becomes you. (After a little.) See, O King! Your glory has the happiness of being published abroad in heaven.
With colours used by nymphs of heaven
To make their beauty shine,
Gods write upon the surface given
Of many a magic vine,
As worth their song, the simple story
Of those brave deeds that made your glory.
King. Matali, when I passed before, I was intent on fighting the demons, and did not observe this region. Tell me. In which path of the winds are we?
Matali.
It is the windpath sanctified
By holy Vishnu's second stride;
Which, freed from dust of passion, ever
Upholds the threefold heavenly river;
And, driving them with reins of light,
Guides the stars in wheeling flight.
King. That is why serenity pervades me, body and soul. (He observes the path taken by the chariot.) It seems that we have descended into the region of the clouds.
Matali. How do you perceive it?
King.
Plovers that fly from mountain-caves,
Steeds that quick-flashing lightning laves,
And chariot-wheels that drip with spray—
A path o'er pregnant clouds betray.
Matali. You are right. And in a moment you will be in the world over which you bear rule.
King (looking down). Matali, our quick descent gives the world of men a mysterious look. For
The plains appear to melt and fall
From mountain peaks that grow more tall;
The trunks of trees no longer hide
Nor in their leafy nests abide;
The river network now is clear,
For smaller streams at last appear:
It seems as if some being threw
The world to me, for clearer view.
Matali. You are a good observer, O King. (He looks down, awe-struck.) There is a noble loveliness in the earth. King. Matali, what mountain is this, its flanks sinking into the eastern and into the western sea? It drips liquid gold like a cloud at sunset.
Matali. O King, this is Gold Peak, the mountain of the fairy centaurs. Here it is that ascetics most fully attain to magic powers. See!
The ancient sage, Marichi's son,
Child of the Uncreated One,
Father of superhuman life,
Dwells here austerely with his wife.
King (reverently). I must not neglect the happy chance. I cannot go farther until I have walked humbly about the holy one.
Matali. It is a worthy thought, O King. (The chariot descends.) We have come down to earth.
King (astonished). Matali,
The wheels are mute on whirling rim;
Unstirred, the dust is lying there;
We do not bump the earth, but skim:
Still, still we seem to fly through air.
Matali. Such is the glory of the chariot which obeys you and Indra.
King. In which direction lies the hermitage of Marichi's son?
Matali (pointing). See!
Where stands the hermit, horridly austere,
Whom clinging vines are choking, tough and sore;
Half-buried in an ant-hill that has grown
About him, standing post-like and alone;
Sun-staring with dim eyes that know no rest,
The dead sk
in of a serpent on his breast:
So long he stood unmoved, insensate there
That birds build nests within his mat of hair.
King (gazing). All honour to one who mortifies the flesh so terribly.
Matali (checking the chariot). We have entered the hermitage of the ancient sage, whose wife Aditi tends the coral-trees. King. Here is deeper contentment than in heaven. I seem plunged in a pool of nectar.
Matali (stopping the chariot). Descend, O King.
King (descending). But how will you fare?
Matali. The chariot obeys the word of command. I too will descend. (He does so.) Before you, O King, are the groves where the holiest hermits lead their self-denying life.
King. I look with amazement both at their simplicity and at what they might enjoy.
Their appetites are fed with air
Where grows whatever is most fair;
They bathe religiously in pools
Which golden lily-pollen cools;
They pray within a jewelled home,
Are chaste where nymphs of heaven roam:
They mortify desire and sin
With things that others fast to win.
Matali. The desires of the great aspire high. (He walks about and speaks to some one not visible.) Ancient Shakalya, how is Marichi's holy son occupied? (He listens.) What do you say? That he is explaining to Aditi, in answer to her question, the duties of a faithful wife? My matter must await a fitter time. (He turns to the king.) Wait here, O King, in the shade of the ashoka tree, till I have announced your coming to the sire of Indra.
King. Very well. (Exit MATALI. The king's arm throbs, a happy omen.)
I dare not hope for what I pray;
Why thrill—in vain?
For heavenly bliss once thrown away
Turns into pain.
