by Kalidasa
[ŚAKUNTALĀ trembles, frightened
Suppose you are no better (27)
Than this king claims?
How could you stay
In Father Kaṇva’s house?
But if, as you say,
Your actions leave no stain,
Knowing the truth,
You can bear slavery
At your husband’s hearth.
Stay there! We’re going without you.
KING. Ascetic, why do you give the lady false hopes?
Nightflowers open for the moon alone, (28)
Sunflowers for the sun:
No one self-restrained would touch
A woman contracted to another man.
ŚĀRṄGARAVA. If you’re able to forget a previous affair because of some new attachment, why worry about doing the wrong thing now?
KING [to the COURT PRIEST]. You advise me:
Since I no longer know (29)
If I’m deluded
Or this girl’s lying,
Tell me which is worse:
Colluding in the ruin of my faithful spouse,
Or risking the defilement
Of another man’s wife?
COURT PRIEST [deliberating]. Well, in these kinds of cases …
KING. … What, priest?
COURT PRIEST. Let the lady stay in my house until she gives birth. There’s a good reason for that: holy men have already predicted that your first son will bear the bodily signs of a Universal Emperor.* If that turns out to be true of the sage’s grandson, then congratulate his mother and receive her into your royal apartments. Otherwise, all you can do is send her back to her father.
KING. As the teacher instructs, then!
COURT PRIEST. Child, follow me.
ŚAKUNTALĀ. Holy Mother Earth, open up and let me in!
[Starting to weep, ŚAKUNTALĀ exits with the COURT PRIEST
and the ASCETICS
[The KING remains deep in thought, but he is still unable to
remember anything because of the curse
OFF-STAGE VOICE. Amazing! Quite amazing!
KING [listening]. What’s happened now?
COURT PRIEST [coming back in amazement]. Sir, something truly astonishing has occurred!
KING. Yes?
COURT PRIEST. As soon as Kaṇva’s pupils had left,
The girl threw up her arms and began to cry, (30)
Lamenting her misfortunes, when—
KING. What?
COURT PRIEST.
Close to the nymph’s shrine, a curtain of light
Shaped like a woman, whisked her away.
[All are amazed
KING. We’ve settled the matter already. There’s nothing more to say. Your Reverence should get some rest.
COURT PRIEST [looking at the KING]. May you be victorious.
[Exits
KING. Vetravatī, I am utterly bewildered. Lead the way to my chamber.
DOORKEEPER. This way, my lord.
[She begins to leave
KING.
Was she ever really my wife and lover, (31)
This sage’s abandoned daughter?
I don’t remember.
But my heart’s so full of anguish,
I almost think it may be true.
Have I betrayed her?
[All exit
ACT 6
The king’s brother-in-law, who is the CITY POLICE-CHIEF, enters with TWO POLICEMEN, leading a MAN whose hands are tied behind his back.
POLICEMEN [beating the man]. Spit it out, thief! Where did you get this ring? Look at the jewels … And the king’s name’s engraved on it, you bastard!
MAN [showing fear]. Give over, boys! I’d never do such a thing!
FIRST POLICEMAN. Oh, I am sorry. How could I have missed it? You’re some great brahmin, and this is a gift from the king.
MAN. Listen, will you? I’m just a poor fisherman, trying to make a living at Indra’s Resort…
SECOND POLICEMAN. Did we ask about your caste, thief?
CHIEF. Sūcaka, let him tell it in order from the beginning. Don’t keep interrupting!
POLICEMEN. Whatever you say, Chief. Speak up!
MAN. I feed my family by fishing, with nets and hooks, and so on …
CHIEF. What a pure profession!*
MAN. YOU shouldn’t say that, sir:
Others may abuse me, (1)
But this is my duty:
No one says to the priest:
‘You’re scum—you feel no pity
For the sacrificed beast.’
CHIEF. Get on with it!
MAN. One day, I was cutting up a carp, and just lying there in its belly was this nice ring. So I was touting it about, looking for a good price—as you would—and the next thing I know I’m arrested. Finish me off or set me free, that’s still the truth!
CHIEF. Jānuka, from the raw stench coming off him, I don’t doubt he is a fisherman. But we still don’t know how he came by this ring. So straight to the palace, I think.
POLICEMEN. Right. Get a move on, pickpocket!
[They walk around
CHIEF. Sūcaka, hold this man at the palace gate! I’ll give His Majesty a history of the ring, and report back presently.
POLICEMEN. Bring back something good, Chief!
[The CHIEF exits
FIRST POLICEMAN. Jānuka, the Chief’s been gone forever.
SECOND POLICEMAN. Yes, but you don’t just walk in on a king—you have to make an appointment.
FIRST POLICEMAN. Jānuka, my hands are itching to tie on this thief’s execution garland.
[He points to the MAN
MAN. It’s not right—you shouldn’t talk about killing a man for no reason at all.
SECOND POLICEMAN [looking]. Here comes the Chief, with what looks like the king’s warrant. It’s the vultures for you, mate. You’re staring down the jaws of the dog of death,* all right…
CHIEF [entering]. Sūcaka, release the fisherman! His story about the ring has been corroborated.
FIRST POLICEMAN. Whatever you say, Chief. He walked through the house of death, and straight out on the other side.
[He frees the MAN
MAN [bowing to the CHIEF]. What do you think of my profession now, Chief Superintendent?
CHIEF. I’ve been told to give you a sum equal to the ring.
[He gives the MAN money
MAN [bowing]. I’m much obliged to Your Honour.
FIRST POLICEMAN. That’s what I call a favour—to be lifted from the impaling stake straight onto the back of an elephant!
SECOND POLICEMAN. So Chief, I guess this ring was very valuable to the king?
CHIEF. No, I don’t think it was the value of the stone that concerned him. He’s usually so measured, but when he caught sight of the ring he became really agitated for a while. Just as though he’d remembered someone out of the blue—someone he really cared for, perhaps.
FIRST POLICEMAN. You’ve done the king a real service then, Chief, that’s for certain.
SECOND POLICEMAN. And an even better one to this fisher king.
[He eyes the MAN enviously
MAN. All right boys, half of it’s yours—there’s more than a few drinks in that.
SECOND POLICEMAN. It’s only fair!
CHIEF. You’re really such a noble fisherman—you could be my best friend. So I think we should head for the wine-shop now, and celebrate our bond with a bottle or two of wine.*
[All exit
From the sky, a nymph called SĀNUMATĪ enters.
SĀNUMATĪ. Now the pilgrims have finished bathing at the nymph’s shrine, and my guardian duties there are done, I can come and see what King Duṣyanta’s up to. Menakā’s my friend—her daughter is dear to me—and she asked me to help Śakuntalā, herself. [Looking around] Why isn’t the palace prepared for the spring festival?* Today’s the day. A little meditation would reveal everything, but I promised my friend I would see whatever there was to see with my own eyes. So time to make myself invisible and sp
y on these two pretty gardeners.
[She descends and stands there waiting
A female GARDENER enters, looking at a mango blossom,
ANOTHER GIRL following.
FIRST GARDENER.
Mango, (2)
Your pale bud
Is flushed with pink.
What better reason
To greet you
At the brink
Of the season?
SECOND GARDENER. What are you muttering to yourself, Parabhṛtikā—‘Little Cuckoo’?
FIRST GARDENER. ‘Little Bee’—Madhukarikā, don’t you know the cuckoo becomes unhinged when it sees the mango blossom?
SECOND GARDENER [rushing over, full of joy]. Is it the sweet month of Madhu—Spring—already?
FIRST GARDENER. Yes, ‘Little Bee’, this is the time for your bumbling dances and songs of love.
SECOND GARDENER. Hold me up while I pluck a mango blossom and worship the God of Love.
FIRST GARDENER. Only if half the fruit of your worship is mine.
SECOND GARDENER. You didn’t have to ask: we have two bodies but our lives are one. [She leans on her friend and plucks a blossom] Ah! Though the blossom’s not full-blown, the broken stalk alone has a wonderful scent.
[She cups her hands together in a gesture of worship
Mango bud, I offer you to Love: (3)
As he lifts his bow, may he aim you—
The best of his five—*
At deserted young wives,*
Whose husbands roam
Far from native hearth and home.
[She throws the mango bud into the air
The CHAMBERLAIN enters in a fury, tossing the curtain aside*
CHAMBERLAIN. Not now, you idiotic girl! What do you think you’re doing, plucking mango buds, when His Majesty has expressly forbidden all celebration of the spring festival?
BOTH GARDENERS [frightened]. Forgive us, sir. We don’t know anything about it.
CHAMBERLAIN. What? When even the nesting birds, and the budding trees themselves, obeyed the king’s order, you two have heard nothing? Look:
The mango blooms, but sheds no pollen, (4)
The amaranth buds, but will not bloom.
Though winter’s gone, the cuckoo’s song is frozen,
And Love himself, in his own season, stops
In sudden fear, and lets his arrow drop.
SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. This is a powerful king, indeed.
FIRST GARDENER. Sir, we’ve only been here a few days. We were sent by Mitrāvasu, the king’s brother-in-law, to serve the queen. We’re newcomers, and nobody told us anything about this. We were just told to look after the pleasure garden.
CHAMBERLAIN. Well, make sure you don’t do it again!
BOTH GARDENERS. Sir, we’re terribly curious … If it’s allowed, can you tell us why the spring festival has been cancelled?
SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Mortals love festivals—there must be a pressing reason.
CHAMBERLAIN. I don’t see why not. It’s common knowledge anyway. Hasn’t the scandal of Śakuntalā’s rejection reached your ears yet either?
BOTH GARDENERS. The king’s brother-in-law told us the ring had been found, but that’s all.
CHAMBERLAIN. There’s nothing much more to tell. At the sight of the ring, His Majesty remembered that he really had married the Lady Śakuntalā in secret, and then rejected her out of sheer delusion. And ever since, he has been mortified by regret.
Pleasures repel him, (5)
So do affairs of state.
Nights are fitful, sleepless.
For courtesy’s sake,
He’ll address the palace women,
Only to stall on a name,
Retreat, or go silent with shame.
SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. I like the sound of this.
CHAMBERLAIN. In short, the festival’s been banned because of the king’s depression.
BOTH GARDENERS. It had to be.
VOICE OFF-STAGE. Over here, if it pleases Your Majesty!
CHAMBERLAIN [listening]. Ah! The king’s coming this way. Go about your business.
BOTH GARDENERS. At once.
[They exit
The KING enters, dressed as a penitent, accompanied by the VIDŪṢAKA and the DOORKEEPER.
CHAMBERLAIN [observing the KING]. Whatever the conditions, exceptional beauty always entrances us. Even though wasted with remorse, the king looks wonderful.
Instead of jewels, he wears a single band (6)
Above his left-hand wrist; his lips are cracked
By sighs; brooding all night has drained his eyes
Of lustre; yet, just as grinding reveals
A gem, his austerity lays bare
An inner brilliance and an ideal form.
SĀNUMATĪ [aside, staring at the KING]. I can see why Śakuntalā goes on pining for him, even though he rejected and humiliated her.
KING [pacing about slowly, deep in thought].
Useless heart—buried in sleep (7)
When my doe-eyed girl
Tried to wake it.
Now it beats in pain
To each pang of remorse,
And shall never sleep again.
SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. The poor girl feels exactly the same.
VIDŪṢAKA [aside]. Here he goes again—Śakuntalā fever. I don’t know how we cure him of that.
CHAMBERLAIN [approaching]. Victory to Your Majesty! I have inspected the grounds of the pleasure garden, and it’s quite safe for you to go wherever you please, great king.
KING. Vetravatī, take a message to the honourable minister Pisuna—say: ‘After a sleepless night, we’re not fit to take the judgement-seat today. Please send me a written report of all the civil cases.’
DOORKEEPER. As Your Majesty commands.
[She exits
KING. Vātāyana, you too may go on with your work.
CHAMBERLAIN. AS the King commands.
[He exits
VIDŪṢAKA. Now you’ve fanned away the flies, take a rest in the garden. It’s pleasant enough at this time of day, neither hot nor cold—just right.
KING. My friend, the old saw, ‘Misfortune flies into every gap’, is all too true:
The dark that gripped recall of Kaṇva’s child (8)
Has been dispelled, but straight away, the God
Of Love tips his arrows with mango buds,
And my mind and my soul are fresh impaled.
VIDŪṢAKA. Just wait, and you’ll see me break the love god’s arrow with my trusty stick.
[Raising his stick, he tries to break off a mango blossom
KING [smiling]. Let it be! Your brahmin power is overwhelming. So friend, where can I sit and stare at just those particular vines that shall remind me of my love?
VIDŪṢAKA. Didn’t you tell your maid, Caturikā, that you would wait in the jasmine bower, and that she should bring you the drawing-board with that portrait of Śakuntalā you painted yourself?
KING. Yes, that’s the place to soothe my heart. Take me there now.
VIDŪṢAKA. This is the way.
[Both walk around; SĀNUMATĪ follows
There’s the jasmine bower, welcoming us with offerings of its own flowers. And it wouldn’t be complete without a marble bench. So shall we go in and sit?
[Both enter and sit down
SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. I’ll hide behind the creepers,* see the picture of Śakuntalā, gauge the extent of his passion, then tell my friend.
[She stands behind the creepers
KING. Friend, now I remember everything. I told you about my first meeting with Śakuntalā. I know you weren’t there at the time I rejected her, but, when you might have done, you never mentioned her at all. What happened? Did your memory go too?
VIDŪṢAKA. NO, I didn’t forget. You did tell me about it. But you also said it was all untrue—nothing but a joke. And because I’m a dunderhead, I took it at face value. But perhaps there are some things that have to be …
SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Man
y a true word!
KING [brooding]. Save me, my friend!
VIDŪṢAKA. What’s this? It doesn’t suit you. Gales don’t shake mountains, and the noblest men are never overwhelmed by grief.
KING. My friend, I’m utterly defenceless against a memory—my love’s bewilderment and pain when I denied her:
Rejected, she followed her kinsmen (9)
Until Kaṇva’s pupil shouted ‘Stay!’
Ah, the look she hurled me then,
Through tears primed by my cruelty,
Has turned to a poison
That works on me still.
ŚANUMATĪ [aside]. Such devotion to his own duty! I rejoice in his pain.
VIDŪṢAKA. My guess is her ladyship was carried off” by some celestial being…
KING. Who else would dare to touch a faithful wife? I have heard that Menakā’s her mother. And I feel in my heart it was Menakā’s companions who carried her away.
SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. It’s not his coming to his senses that’s astonishing, it’s his losing them in the first place.
VIDŪṢAKA. If that’s so, then you will certainly meet her again before long.
KING. Why should that happen?
VIDŪṢAKA. NO parent can bear to see their daughter parted from her husband for long.
KING.
What was it? Dream? Hallucination? (10)
Vision? The sudden fruition
Of all my good actions at once?*
No matter: I know now
That it’s shattered forever,
And like earth in a river
All my fine hopes dispersed.
VIDŪṢAKA. Don’t say that. Isn’t the ring itself proof that coincidence fashions what has to be?
KING [looking at the ring]. I grieve for its expulsion from heaven:
Ring, if your reward (11)
is anything to go by
Your good deeds
are as evanescent as mine,
For though you earned a place
on her matchless, translucent fingers,
You lacked the merit to stick there
and you fell.
ŚĀNUMATĪ [aside]. If it had fallen into some other hands, that might have been a real reason for grief.
