in search of my darling love.
Perhaps my sleeping fate will awake,
and I may meet in manifest form
what lies hidden in my heart already.
Love’s flames will not be quenched for an instant.
My body is ablaze with separation’s undying fire.
It is a difficult fire, this separation, for it consumes my body moment by moment.
Pemā, it is a pain which is so intense that another cannot even bear to listen to it.’
295. When the Princess heard Manohar’s account
she became very sad and said,
‘Why are you so distressed now?
I have told you the entire secret,
but it seems your mind has forgotten it.
Tomorrow is the second day of the month,
which is the occasion for her visit,
and that girl will come here with her mother.
At dawn you should go and sit down
in the picture-pavilion in the garden.*
As soon as she and I meet,
we’ll come to the pavilion on the pretext of play.
If she remembers her past love, and the two of you recognize each other,
spontaneously you will come together in love, you and that alluring Princess.’
296. Joy overwhelmed the Prince’s
heart when he heard the time of union was near.
He remembered everything again,
and fell down at Pemā’s feet.
She raised his head from her feet and said,
‘Tomorrow morning, I will unite you.’
His mind was satisfied on hearing of the reunion.
He happily arose and came to the pavilion.
The night passed like an age for the Prince.
For love’s sake, he stayed awake all night.
Only one kept awake by separation,
can know how long is the night of pain.
The night passed and day dawned, with the sun spreading its radiance.
Madhumālataī came with her mother to the kingdom of Citrasena.
Madhumdlatī’s Arrival
297. When Madhumālatī recognized Pemā
they rushed to embrace each other.
Both friends were clever and youthful,
full of love’s newly blossoming savour.
Madhumālataī asked, ‘Listen, dear friend,
who rescued you from the demon?
Tell me your story, O friend.
Who reunited you with your family?
Tell me everything and in detail:
how did you attain safety and salvation?
Did the demon release you himself, or did someone bring you back by force?
Swear that you will tell me all, the truth about what happened to you.’
298. Since Madhumālataī had asked her
to promise to tell the truth,
Pemā began to recount her rescue.
‘One day I wept as I remembered my family,
and went to sleep alone in my sorrow.
My heart was immersed in grief
when, in a dream, I saw your face.
You took my arm and raised me up,
and said, “Come, let’s go and play!”
I sat up, awake, but there was no one there.
I wept desperately and cried aloud for help.
But then it seemed to me that the good Lord had become happy with me,
for the dark night of grief was relieved in just an instant.
299. ‘Suddenly it was a happy time again.
The waters of joy quenched sorrow’s fire.
A Prince, smitten with love for you,
was sent by God to where I was.
I made him swear to tell the truth,
and asked him all about himself.
In tears, he told me how he fell in love.
He described his sorrow for you so movingly,
that my heart’s calm was lost as I listened.
His sorrow made my heart sore with grief,
water flowed from my eyes, drenching my blouse.
Driven almost senseless, wounded by love, and crying, the Prince told me all—
the affair of that love of old between you, and the events you shared together.
300. ‘I dedicate myself to your feet,
you who have snapped my fetters of grief.
What sacrifice can I offer you,
through whose grace I have been redeemed?
I was drowning in the sea of grief,
when you became my boatman.
Were I to sacrifice my life for you,
I could never repay my debt to you.
Had the Prince not been enamoured of you,
how could I have escaped from captivity?
I would sacrifice a thousand of my lives for you, and willingly too.
Through your grace God has granted me liberty and salvation!
301. ‘I tell you, Madhumālatī, the Prince
asked me many times about our relationship.
So I told him openly of my sorrow,
putting aside my shyness in front of the Prince.
Then I spoke of our close friendship,
telling him plainly how it was between us.
When he heard your name he fell down senseless,
and writhed about as if stung by a snake.
When his consciousness returned to him,
he answered all my questions clearly.
In separation from you he smeared ashes on his body and became an ascetic.
He killed the demon and brought me here. Blessed is the mother who gave him birth!’
Madhumālatīs Astonishment
302. Madhumālataī was astonished when she heard.
She said, ‘How could he know me?
Who is this Prince? How could I know him?
How is it he is enamoured of my beauty?
Where could he have seen me?
Who could have told him my name?
I am the Princess of my father’s house,
so how would I know a strange man?
If my mother and father were to hear of it,
they would bury me alive as I stand here.
O Pemā, why do you disgrace me through this public accusation?
My gain is your gain, dear friend, and my loss is your loss.
303. ‘You are wise, clever, and understanding.
Aren’t you ashamed to talk like this?
I urge you, as forcefully as I can,
to speak at least a semblance of the truth.
I am from a noble family,
and the daughter of a royal house—
aren’t you ashamed to say this about me?
It is only because of our childhood friendship
that I suffer your abuse so lightly.
The moon is in the sky, the white lotus
in a pond below the earth—
how could there be love between the two?*
My eyes have not seen his form, nor have my ears heard his name.
How could you disgrace me so for one whose name or home I know not?
304. ‘Wise friend, please think before speaking.
Such talk can sink a woman’s honour.
Your words have stung me like poison.
Can anyone weave such fantasies
like thread spun from mere dust?
I am still a girl in my mother’s lap.
How could I have a friendship with a man?
I don’t know whether he is dark or fair.
What kind of love? For what man?
How could anyone insult me like this?
One can only draw a picture
when one has found a proper surface.
What you have said, dear friend, is impossible; no one would say such things.
The class of women is a heap of ill-fame, and destroyed only through talk.’
The Token of Identity
305. When she heard Madhumālataī’s answer,
<
br /> Pemā looked at her lovely face and said laughing,
‘Look me in the eyes as you speak, girl,
so I can see what nonsense you are talking.
Your eyes are learning new tricks now,
to deceive me with lies and falsehoods.
Do not expect to use cunning
to hide your pregnancy from a midwife!
It may be all right to deceive others,
but one should not lie to a friend.
I know everything about you, from the beginning to the end.
Mad girl, can love ever be hidden? Tell me everything openly and frankly.
306. ‘Tell me truthfully what’s happened
and stop your boasting to the skies.
Your face is pale, your body wasted—
love’s anguish in you is clearly apparent.
Tell me all—how far can you dissemble?
Mad one, love cannot remain hidden.
You are my friend, dear as life to me.
Why then do you not speak openly?
If you do not trust me yet,
ask me and I will give you your token.’
Pemā borrowed the ring from the Prince and gave it to the lovely maiden.
She said, ‘Where did you leave this? Take it if you recognize it as your own.’
Madhumālatī Distraught
307. When Madhumālataī saw the ring,
both her eyes brimmed over with tears.
She tried very hard to hide it,
but tears flowed uncontrollably from her eyes.
Love and musk cannot be concealed—
the one has a beautiful scent,
and the other yields separation’s agony.
Love can never be hidden from others—
one’s eyes well up and all the world knows.
Separation from one’s beloved
is always apparent, can never be covered up.
Remembering her love of old, says Manjhan, a restless yearning awoke in her heart.
Unable to control herself, she flung her arms around Pemā’s neck and cried aloud.
308. Pemā forcibly freed her neck,
cheered her up and consoled her.
But Madhumālatīi, distraught with separation,
her mind confused and bemused,
spoke in anguished tones and asked,
‘Where is that Prince, dear friend,
who assailed me with love’s agony
in my dream and then left me?
When I awoke from the dream
I found the bed was his, not mine.
And the signet ring in your hand,
he took away with him, giving me his ring.
Till now I have kept separation’s fire contained, fearful of my family’s honour.
Out of shame I never told anyone, but secretly bore this agony in my heart.
309. ‘Separation is hard, and great my heart’s pain.
My life is utterly shameless
for it will not depart this body.
What blessed hour was it
when we fell in love for the first time?
I do not burn in this fire all alone.
Is there anyone in the world
whose heart is not ablaze?
Until now this fire has burnt me in secret,
but now it blazes openly in all ten directions.
How long can this fever burn secretly,
now that the bonfire flares up everywhere?
I do not know what sort of magic beauty God came down to show me.
I saw it but for an instant, yet I shall suffer throughout my lifetime.
310. ‘The pain of separation set fire to my heart,
a conflagration which blazes higher daily.
Why did my mother nurse me with milk?
Why did she not feed me poison instead?
Why did the midwife who cut my cord at birth
not put it as a noose around my neck?
Without him I cannot live for a moment,
nor could I ever renounce him.
Dear friend, death is not in my control,
so how can I attain salvation and die?
I cannot endure the pain of love-in-separation, nor can I die by wishing it.
I cannot live, nor can I die, and my heart’s fire will not be quenched!’
Pemā Explains
311. Madhumālatī! then recounted for Pemā
all the things that had happened earlier.
When she heard the lovely maiden’s words,
Pemā’s eyes brimmed over with tears.
‘Whatever you suffer for the sake of your love,’
she said, ‘later you will reap a tenfold happiness.
For a single joy you must suffer a thousand griefs,
yet a single grief can yield a thousand joys.
For a single flower, dear friend,
you must gather daily a thousand thorns.
Once having embarked on the ocean of love, no one should ever turn back.
Either you will obtain the jewel of your beloved, or lose your life in longing.
312. ‘Today’, she said, ‘is auspicious for you,
and your mind’s desire will be fulfilled.
Dear friend, Saturn is in your sixth house,
so you will gain the treasure you have lost.
Jupiter is in the ninth house, so you are sure
to meet the one from whom you are apart.
In the third house, Mars is strong—
your beloved will come to your bed himself.
The sun is shining in the tenth house,
taking away sorrow and bringing joy.
The Twins are in your eleventh house; the Moon, Venus and Mercury in the house of your birth.
According to all my calculations, all seven planets are favourable to you.
313. ‘O maiden, Rāhu* is in your eighth house,
so you will surely meet your darling.
I know the Prince is heavily burdened with suffering,
and you are tormented just like him.
Today you will meet your dear beloved,
for whom you have endured such distress.
Contemplating you in his mind, O maiden,
he has forgotten the entire world.
From the moment he saw your brilliant face,
his eyes have found the whole world dark.
Come and see the condition of the Prince for whom there can be no one but you.
He has lost everything for your sake—his body, his mind, his life, and his youth.
314. ‘His body has been burnt to ashes
in the flames of separation—
seeing him, one feels compassion.
Not a ratti* of his body’s flesh remains,
and separation cuts away at his bones.
If you have stolen someone’s soul,
at least grant him pity in return.
Princess, show yourself to him just a little,
then you may give him heavy grief again.
Dear friend, be fearful of the ways of God,
one pays for the deeds one commits.
Can love ever fail to bear fruit in this world? Listen to what I say.
May you never have to endure the sufferings of the Prince.’
315. Then Pemā raised her up by her arm
and went with her towards the garden.
She said, ‘Come, let’s go to meet the one
who is unique in the two worlds.
Leave aside shyness, put away heartlessness,
come and be kind, see him for a little while.
How could you turn away from one
who is ready to give his life on the path?
In this world one shares happiness
only with those whose grief one shares.’
Pemā then sent a handmaiden to go to the Prince and to tell him
that she and Madhumālataī were standing at the door of the pavilion.
Manohar and Madhumālatī
316. When the maid announced the sweet name Madhu,
the essence of truth showed its signs on his body.
He trembled and was unable to speak.
Consciousness left him and his eyes closed.
Just as pewter grows pallid in the fire,
his body turned pale in all its eight parts.
Pemā took water and sprinkled it on his face,
saying, ‘Awake, for the hour of success has come!
Speak if you have anything to say, for who knows
when the Creator will bring such a day again.
Today the fates are smiling on you, take hold of your consciousness.
Your reward is courageous perfection,* it now stands at your head.’
317. When the Prince heard Pemā mention
courageous perfection, he awoke again.
He said the words seemed sweet as nectar to him.
He said, ‘What a glorious day this is!
Now I have got the scent of my beloved.
The garden of love is blossoming
and the whole world is full of its smell.
Whose fragrance is borne on the breeze
which intoxicates me without wine?
O my precious, most matchless beloved,
come and see love’s blisters on my heart!
For your sake I have abandoned all that I possessed in the universe.
Only my suffering for you did I keep, for it’s the essence of my life in the world.
318. ‘The line of love you engraved on my heart
has not been erased, but deepens day by day.
The sun of happiness has gone down, O maiden,
but dawn has not yet come to this night of grief.
Perhaps now the night of suffering has passed
and the rains of Svātī can fall on the cātaka bird.
There is nothing I have not already lost,
on the gaming board of your love’s sorrow.
Meet me today, put your arms around my neck,
for who knows if tomorrow will be like today?
If you have something to do today, why do you not do it this instant?
For nobody knows what may happen tomorrow in this dark Kali age!
319. ‘My eyes have been beholders of your beauty
from the moment it first became manifest.
On the day that the first forms of your beauty
became apparent, I was enamoured of it.
The more your beauty illuminated the world,
the more my soul was caught in separation’s spell.
Your beauty and my pain, O maiden,
have become a legend in every land.
Since your beauty increases day by day,
how can I become free of the pain of love?
Whoever has unveiled your face and looked at your beauty openly is blessed.
I have rushed to kiss those fortunate eyes, in which your radiant beauty dwells.
Madhumalati Page 18
