For whom did the Creator fashion her neck?
Blessed the man who knows the joy
of embracing Madhumālatī’s lovely neck.
How auspicious the life, how blessed the birth,
of the man for whom the Lord created her neck.
After looking at the triple crease of her neck,*
how could anyone’s body stay conscious?
The three lines looked exquisite on the blessed maiden’s neck—
for which great ascetic was her beautiful neck made by the Lord of the worlds?
Her Arms
93. Viśvakarman, the All-Maker,*
shaped her graceful arms himself.
For all my searching, I found no equal.
Her arms were lovely, strong, and powerful—
on seeing them mighty heroes sacrificed themselves
for this beautiful, powerless woman.
Her wrists were unique, matchless,
the God of Love formed them on his lathe.
Beneath them were her flawless palms,
pure as crystal filled with deep red vermilion.*
So many grieving lovers had she killed
that all ten fingernails shone red with blood.
Her lovely arms, so strong and graceful, vanquished all three worlds.
Blessed the man whose fortunate neck her beautiful arms embraced.
Her Breasts
94. So shapely were her precious breasts,
seeing them threw the triple world into confusion.
Her breasts were firm and hard to the touch
for the Lord had put them near her stony heart.
When another heart should touch her heart,
their nipples would rise up to honour him.
Youth herself plucked for her two wood-apples,*
new fruit, perfect, as yet unripe, from the tree.
When the lord of her life entered her heart,
her nipples rose up shyly and came out.
Her lovely firm breasts, with dark-tipped nipples, too proud to bow before anyone,
were like two kings sharing a boundary line who would never come together.
95. Pointed, sharp and unscrupulously seductive,
her breasts entered lovers’ hearts on sight.
Lovely they looked, with darkened arrows on their tips.
Famous as brave fighters through the three worlds,
they wanted to dispute the boundary line in war,
but then a necklace came between them.
Her breasts were mighty warriors in war.
When they heard of battle or slaughter,
at once they came to adorn the battlefield.
Their nature was to strike, crooked or straight.
In battle they always advanced, never retreated.
Her breasts’ perverse cruelty does not astonish the poet; they pained
not her on whom they grew, but those who looked on their loveliness.
Her Waist
96. The line of hair on her navel
was a venomous serpent released
from its lair, roaming dangerously.
When it fell into her navel’s pool,
it curled around, unable to climb out.
Her slender stomach was graceful, alluring,
the Lord created it without an inside.
Seeing the narrowness of her waist,
one feared the buttocks’ weight would make it snap.
So slender and fine was her waist,
that hands could not grasp it at all.
It was so delicate it would break at a touch.
Had not the three folds of her stomach supported it, her waist
would surely have snapped from the weight of her hips below.
Her Thighs and Legs
97. The triple fold on her waist suggested
the Maker held her there while shaping her.
For fear of immodesty before my elders,
I shall not describe her intoxicating treasury of love.
The sight of her hips aroused the mind,
excited passion in the body in an instant.
Seeing her thighs plunged one’s being
into utter confusion, struck one dumb.
Pink and white, softly blooming,
lotuses could not equal her legs.
Her legs were well-shaped like a plantain tree, golden, upside down,
or the trunk of an elephant, but truly I feel ashamed to offer a likeness.
Madhumālatī Awakes
98. Who could describe her sleeping on her couch,
without ornament, coquetry, or sidelong glances?
Matchless women the Lord has made in the past,
beautiful by nature and needing no adornment,
but here was creation’s auspicious symbol of womanhood.
Shyly, her body met Love’s mad promptings.
Seeing her sleeping so peacefully on her bed,
the pain of restless passion awoke in the Prince’s body.
Spontaneously his consciousness was freed of all attachments;
separation came and overwhelmed his soul.
Seeing Love’s bow in splendour on her brow, his senses left him instantly.
‘Blessed is that man’s life for whom love is born in this maiden’s heart.’
99. I am sorry to describe her as she sleeps.
Why don’t I wake her up to recount her beauty?
Let me awaken her and have her speak words of rasa
so I may take pleasure in hearing her sweet speech.
The maiden raised her arms above her head.
Lazily she yawned and stretched her limbs.
Her eyes awakened and became alert
like a hunter’s arrows raised in ambush.
When a natural frown appeared upon her brow,
it seemed the God of Love had drawn his bow.
Her eyebrows were arched like the drawn bow of Kāmadeva,
and the triple world trembled in anticipation of her arrows.
100. That darling Princess awoke and looked about, astonished.
She became alert and glanced around her,
a doe alarmed, sensing lions and tigers on the hunt.
Then the Princess, looking more carefully,
saw another bed spread out beside her.
She saw a mighty Prince lying upon it.
She was astounded when she saw his form
and, though confused, gathered up her courage.
Though that beautiful, excellent maiden was still extremely overcome,
she composed herself and, sitting up, took courage to address the Prince.
101. The lovely maiden opened her matchless lips
to speak words as sweet as nectar.
In pleasant and delightful tones she asked:
‘Who are you, O god-like Prince?
Tell me your name, my lord.
Through what power did you come here?
For where this maiden dwells
even the wind is not allowed to enter.
I adjure you speak the truth about yourself.
Are you a god from Indra’s heaven? Are you a serpent from Hell?
Or are you a human from this mortal world? Tell me and resolve my confusion.
102. ‘Are you a demon or some ghostly apparition?
Can this body of yours be human?
Did you get miraculous power through a guru’s words?
Or did you apply magic kohl to your eyes?
Is it a spell which has given you this power?
Did your guru make you drink some special herb?
How did you come so silently to my chamber,
were you borne on a vehicle by the winds of the mind?
On all four sides the doorways are impassable
and countless guards lie awake all around.
Seven circular paths lead to this chamber.* Many brave men stay awake to guard them.
How have you come to this place to which even the wind has no acces
s?
103. ‘By God I adjure you speak the truth:
tell me how these things have come to pass.
Did someone bring you here by force,
and so confuse you that you cannot speak?
I see that you are human in every way.
On your forehead shines the jewel of fortune.
But why are you so silent? Will you not speak?
Seeing you here has quite bewildered me.
My soul is overcome with astonishment at seeing you.
Gather your courage and sit up; do not be afraid.
Tell me, I beseech you, the truth about yourself.’
104. When he heard these words sweet as nectar,
the Prince’s body became immortal.
When he saw her he was perplexed and astonished,
and lost all consciousness of himself.
His heart was struck by pointed arrows,
as though her glances had been sharpened on a stone.
As sugar instantly dissolves in water,
so did the Prince’s soul surrender its selfhood.
So lovely was her form he could not look on it directly,
and the doors of his two eyes would not stay open.
Seeing her beauty his eyes were confused, unable to look at her directly.
From his eyes flowed tears of blood, and his eyelids refused to open.*
Prince Manohar Explains
105. ‘Listen, best of maidens, and I will tell you
what you have so naturally asked.
The city of Kanaigiri is a wonderful place.
The whole world knows my father, King Sūrajbhānu.
My own name is Prince Manohar.
I am of the Rāghava line.* I belong to Kanaigiri.
I had scarcely closed my eyes in sleep,
and now I see I’ve woken up here.
I do not know who brought me here
for there to occur a meeting of glances.
My two eyes are captivated by your beauty, and I do not see any release for them.
For the more an elephant struggles in the mud, the deeper he sinks in the quagmire.
106. ‘Sleep has only just left and I’m awake.
The sight of your beauty has robbed me of my life.
It must be merits previously earned
that have brought me to see your face.
Maybe in a former birth I sacrificed my life,
and that merit has brought me here
to see this vision of your beauty.
Or else it was my good fortune to fulfil
my soul’s desire by pilgrimage to Prayāg,*
or even to give my head to the saw.
I have found you, a woman,
as the result of my good actions.
Blessed are those merits of my previous birth.
The arrows of love have entered my heart and my eyes have become enraptured.
Body and mind, my soul, my youth, all love you and will never leave you.
107. ‘I look at the full moon of your face today
as the effect of merits from a former life.
The arrows of love have struck my heart.
My soul is caught in the net of separation.
O maiden, only the man whose forehead has
the mark of fortune earned in a former life
will be rewarded with a sight of you.
Impelled by love, O Princess, I beseech you:
who is the King whose darling child you are?
Tell me your name. Who is your father?
Of what land is he the sovereign?
For my eyes, which see your dazzling beauty, I sacrifice myself.
For my ears, which hear your sweet wondrous words, I lay down my life.’
Madhumālatī Replies
108. Then that blessed maiden opened her mouth
to speak in her delightful nectar-like voice.
As she delivered words full of rasa,
her teeth shone with astounding brilliance.
In the three worlds, everyone was dazzled.
Hearing her words, the Prince fainted:
consciousness left him and intelligence fled.
The sight of her lips plundered his senses,
but her words revived the lover again.
I cannot describe the power of her mouth:
even if one were yearning to die,
her words would bring one back to life.
How can I describe her lips? No words come to my mouth.
They can kill the living if they wish, or restore the dead to life.
109. When the unconscious Prince revived,
one moment he was conscious,
the next he’d faint away again.
His soul could not be contained one moment,
the next it would return fully aware to his body.
After four hours his soul re-entered his body.
His limbs quickened to full consciousness.
Alive again, with heart aware,
to his ears came her words, sweet as nectar.
As he heard his darling’s words of pleasure,
joy spread through his body’s eight limbs.*
When that passionate maiden began to speak her words, full of rasa and delight,
all eight parts of the Prince’s body became ears to listen to them.
110. The Princess began her story, full of savour,
like a night lotus blossoming for love of the moon.
‘Mahāras,’ she said, ‘is a city without equal.
Vikram Rāi, my father, is its mighty king.
My name, Madhumālatī, is radiant
both in this world and the hereafter.
I, a maiden, am my father’s only child.
In this palace I am the darling of the King.’
But of all the words the maiden spoke,
not one remained within the Prince’s mind.
Although he tried to understand, her words robbed him of intelligence.
Like salt dissolving easily in water, he spontaneously lost his selfhood.
111. When awareness and intelligence returned,
the Prince sat up but found he’d lost his self.
The arrows of love entered his eyes.
He fell unconscious at the Princess’s feet.
Then that most lovely of maidens fanned him,
and sprinkled nectar water on his face.
As she looked at the Prince’s face,
compassion overcame her, and with her sari’s border,
she wiped the tears from the Prince’s eyes.
She felt pity and love was born in her heart.
From her feet she raised his head up high.
When the Prince again sat up and his consciousness steadied,
the blessed maiden in tones of nectar asked him how he was.
112. The King’s dear daughter gently asked the Prince:
‘Now that you’re restored, collect yourself and speak.
Without fear, tell me why your body shakes?
Say why your spirit is distressed,
and why your body trembles so?
Why do you keep on losing consciousness?
I beg you by your father, tell me the truth.
Be not afraid: do not fear anyone,
but tell me why you keep on fainting.
I ask you naturally, out of love: who has deprived you of intelligence?
I have revived you with nectar, why are you not conscious of yourself?’
Manohar Declares his Love
113. ‘Listen, dearest one!’ the Prince then said,
‘In a former life God created love between you and me.
Now that he has brought us into the world,
I have given you my soul in exchange for sorrow.
It is not just today that I grieve for you:
I have known this sorrow from the first creation.
The grief I feel separated from you was revealed
the day the Creator fashioned this bod
y of mine.
Into my body’s clay, O most alluring of women,
God mixed the pure water of your love.*
From my former lives I have known the water of your love,
since, kneading it into my clay, the Creator formed this body.*
114. ‘I lost my all when I took on the pain of your love.
My soul is yours and yours is mine.
Before life even entered my body
God revealed this sorrow to me.*
If I do not speak the truth,
may God increase in me the pain of loving you.
I have given myself to this pain completely.
For this grief I would sacrifice a thousand pleasures.
How can my tongue call this suffering
when the forms of sorrow give so much joy?
The pleasures of four aeons cannot equal even a moment of this grief.
Who can tell what bliss I may enjoy through the blessing of sorrow?
115. ‘Suffering overwhelmed mankind
at the very beginning of creation.
The lotus of Brahma* was the home of grief.
The day that sorrow entered creation,
the soul learnt of its own existence.
The pain I feel for you was not born today,
but has been my companion from the beginning.
Now I carry the burden of this grief,
sacrificing all the pleasures of now and hereafter.
I have given myself to you and accepted this pain.
Through dying I have tasted immortality.
O Madhumālatī, the pain of love for you brings happiness to the world.
Blessed is the life of the man in whose heart is born the pain of love for you.
116. ‘I have heard that on the day the world was born,
the bird of love was released to fly.*
It searched all the three worlds
but could not find a fit resting place.
So it turned and entered the inmost heart,
favoured it and never flew elsewhere.
The three worlds asked it then:
“Why are you attached to the human heart?”
“Suffering”, it replied, “is the only hope for humans.
Where there is sorrow, there I dwell.”
Wherever there is grief in the world, love has its dwelling.
What can a poor man know of love whose heart does not know pain?’
117. ‘You and I have always been together.
Always we have been a single body.
You and I both are one body,
two lumps of clay mixed in the same water.
The same water flows in two streams,
one lamp alone lights two homes.
One soul enters two bodies,
one fire burns in two hearths.
We were one but were born as two:
one temple with two doors.
Madhumalati Page 10
