The Recognition of Sakuntala (Oxford World's Classics)

by Kalidasa

  VIDŪṢAKA. As a matter of interest, why did you put the signet ring on her hand in the first place?

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Yes, I was wondering that as well.

  KING. Listen. When I was setting out for the city, my love burst into tears and asked: ‘How long will it be before my husband sends news?’

  VIDŪṢAKA. Then what?

  KING. Then I placed this ring on her finger, and said:

  One by one, day by day, (12)

  Count the syllables

  Inscribed on this ring;

  And when you’ve spelt my name

  A messenger shall come

  To bring you to the court

  Where you shall be my queen.

  But cruelly, I forgot, and no word was ever sent.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Such a charming agreement, broken by fate!

  VIDŪṢAKA. But how did it get into the carp the fisherman was gutting?

  KING. When she was worshipping at Indra’s ford, it was carried away by the Ganges’s current.

  VIDŪṢAKA. It all makes sense now.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Yes, I can see that the king might have been afraid his marriage to Śakuntalā, a female ascetic, was doubtful in some way. But a passionate love such as theirs needing a mnemonic? Why was that?

  KING. Now, let me castigate this ring.

  VIDŪṢAKA [aside]. This is the path all madmen take.

  KING.

  How could you have quit her exquisite finger (13a)

  And slipped into that swift and murky river?

  Of course,

  A mindless ring could never recognize her worth, (13b)

  But what about me? Why did I reject my love?

  VIDŪṢAKA [aside]. Why am I feeling so ravenous?

  KING. My darling! Have pity on this mind, giddy with regret. I abandoned you for no reason at all. Let me see you again!

  Tossing aside the curtain, CATURIKĀ enters, carrying the drawing-board.

  CATURIKĀ [showing the drawing-board]. Here’s the painting you did of the lady.

  VIDŪṢAKA [looking]. Well done, my friend! You’ve portrayed your emotion perfectly in the subject-matter—I’m almost stumbling through the hills and hollows just by looking at it.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. This king’s an artist. It’s almost as though my friend were standing there before me.

  KING.

  Her picture’s flawed, and she is not— (14)

  I lack the art to draw perfection.

  But though it’s daubed, there is some

  Part of her survives its execution.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Suffering, it seems, increases modesty as well as love.

  VIDŪṢAKA. Now, let me see. Three ladies, and all of them beautiful … Which of these, I wonder, can be Śakuntalā”?

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. He might as well be blind, if he can’t distinguish her beauty!

  KING. You guess. Which one?

  VIDŪṢAKA. So … There’s a lady here, standing next to a freshly watered mango-tree, its leaves glistening—her face too from sweat. She’s tired, her arms hang limply, her hair’s come loose, and some flowers are tumbling from it … This, I guess, is Śakuntalā—and the other two her friends.

  KING. You’re sharp! But perhaps you read the signature of my passion:

  Sweat has smeared (15)

  the paper where I gripped it;

  A tear, from my cheek,

  has blistered the paint.

  Caturikā, the background’s still unfinished. Go and fetch my paints.

  CATURIKĀ. Noble Mādhavya, hold the drawing-board until I return.

  KING. I shall hold it myself.

  [He takes it. The maid exits

  KING [sighing].

  I rejected my love (16)

  when she stood before me,

  Yet now I’m obsessed

  by her painted image:

  I crossed the stream

  of living water

  To drink from a mirage.

  VIDŪṢAKA [aside]. It’s too late for the river now, but there’s no dispelling the mirage. [Aloud] So, my lord, what will you paint here?

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. I should think he’ll want to paint those places my friend was so fond of.

  KING.

  I’ll draw the Mālinī, (17)

  Flowing through the foothills

  Of the great Himalayas,

  Its sandbanks a refuge

  To browsing deer

  And mating geese.

  I’ll paint

  A doe rubbing her eye

  On the horn of a black

  Antelope buck, beneath

  A tree whose branches dip

  With the weight of bark dresses,

  Hung out to dry.

  VIDŪṢAKA [aside]. Yes, and soon there’ll be nothing in the picture but knot-bearded ascetics.

  KING. And another thing, my friend—I’ve forgotten to draw in any of the ornaments Śakuntalá wore.

  VIDŪṢAKA. Suchas?

  ŚĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Something suited to her forest life and her tender modesty.

  KING.

  I know—I haven’t sketched the mimosa: (18)

  Its blossom must be lodged behind her ear,

  Its tendrils brush her cheek; and like the autumn

  Moon as it spreads its beams, a lotus necklace

  Should shimmer on her breast.

  VIDŪṢAKA. But why does the lady seem horribly frightened, covering her face with her fingertips, as beautiful and pink as the buds of a pink lotus? [Looking closely] Ah, now I see it! That honey-pilfering ‘b’ of a bee is trying to settle on her face, as though it were a flower.

  KING. Impudent insect! Why don’t you drive it away?

  VIDŪṢAKA. You’re the one with power over criminals. You do it!

  KING. All right! Why, when every creeper welcomes you, do you waste your time here? Look:

  Your thirsty lover waits (19)

  On the cusp of a flower—

  She won’t drink the sweet nectar

  Alone.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. What a polite dismissal!

  VTDŪṢAKA. These are the kind that turn nasty when you try to get rid of them.

  KING. So you take no notice of me? Listen

  Bee, I’m warning you, (20)

  I kissed her lips in a rite of passion,

  And if you so much as brush them now,

  As you might brush a sapling’s bud,

  A lotus shall be your prison.

  VIDŪṢAKA. Such a harsh punishment—why isn’t it afraid? [Laughing, aside] He’s gone mad. And I’ll go mad too, if this goes on much longer. [Aloud] Because my friend, it’s only a bee in a picture.

  KING. What picture?

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. I was taken in myself, so I’m not surprised the king couldn’t tell the difference.

  KING. My friend, what are you trying to do?

  She was there in front of me, pure delight— (21)

  But now, thanks to you, she’s nothing but paint.

  [He sheds a tear

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. What a contrast between this and how he behaved towards her before!

  KING. Friend, why do I suffer this endless pain?

  Without sleep, there’s no meeting her in dreams, (22)

  And even her picture is screened by my tears.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. I think I can say you’ve atoned now for that pain your rejection caused Śakuntalā.

  CATURIKĀ [entering]. Victory to my lord! I was on my way back with the paintbox when …

  KING. What?

  CATURIKĀ. I met Queen Vasumatī and her maid Taralikā on the path. She snatched the box from my hand, saying: ‘I’ll take that to my noble lord!’

  VIDŪṢAKA. You did well to get away yourself!

  CATURIKĀ. The queen’s shawl got snagged in the branches of a tree and, while Taralikā was freeing it, I made my escape.

  KING. My friend, the queen is nearby. She’s very proud and volatile. You must hide this picture fo
r me.

  VIDŪṢAKA. Tell me rather to hide myself. [Taking the picture and standing up] If you manage to avoid the traps of the women’s apartments, send word to me at the Palace of Clouds.

  [He exits in a hurry

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. He’s still sensitive, it seems, to his first love’s feelings,* although his heart’s been given to another, and his previous passion dead.

  The DOORKEEPER enters with a message in her hand.

  DOORKEEPER. Victory, victory to the king!

  KING. Vetravatī, did you pass the queen on the way?

  DOORKEEPER. Indeed, my lord, but she turned back when she saw I had a letter in my hand.

  KING. She knows not to interrupt official business.

  DOORKEEPER. My lord, the minister requests that you look at this document. He says that the complexity of calculating the various revenues involved has meant that this is the only civil case he has been able to deal with today.

  KING. Let me see it.

  [She hands it to him

  [Reading to himself] What’s this? One of our greatest merchants, Dhanamitra, has been lost at sea … and he died without issue, poor man … and so, according to the minister, his accumulated wealth goes to me. How terrible to be childless! Vetravatī, this man was rich, and must have had several wives. We should find out if any of them is with child.

  DOORKEEPER. My lord, it’s said that one of his wives, the daughter of an Ayodhyān merchant, is in her third month, and has performed the ritual to ensure the birth of a son.*

  KING. Then the child in the womb inherits by right his father’s property. Go and tell the minister!

  DOORKEEPER. As the king commands!

  [Starts to go

  KING. Wait a moment!

  DOORKEEPER. I’m here.

  KING. What does it matter if there’s an heir or not?

  Announce that, when a man dies, (23)

  Untouched by crime,

  Duṣyanta will take his place

  And guarantee his family

  The entire estate.

  DOORKEEPER. It shall be proclaimed from the rooftops.

  [Exits, and then re-enters

  The people have received His Majesty’s command like timely rain.

  KING [sighing deeply]. This is how the wealth of families passes to strangers when the last male heir dies without issue. And such will be the fate of the Purus’ wealth when I am gone.

  DOORKEEPER. God forbid!

  KING. I curse myself that I turned my back on my fortune when it came to me.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Certainly it is my friend he has in mind when he blames himself.

  KING.

  I planted the seed of myself, (24)

  Then, without lawful reason,

  Abandoned my fruitful wife,

  Blighting that golden season.

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Yet your line will not be broken.

  CATURIKĀ [whispering to the DOORKEEPER]. This story about the merchant has only compounded His Majesty’s suffering. Go and fetch noble Mādhavya from the Palace of Clouds to console him.

  DOORKEEPER. A good idea!

  [Exits

  KING. Duṣyanta’s ancestors are unsettled and ask:

  ‘Who will feed us in the afterlife (25)

  As he does now, if there is no heir?’

  And thus distressed, they drink the offering*

  Mixed with tears.

  [He faints

  CATURIKĀ [looking at him in consternation]. You’ll be all right, my lord! You will be all right!

  SĀNUMATĪ [aside]. Alas! Alas! The lamp is there, and yet a screen comes between the king and the light, and he is in darkness still. I could make him happy now, but I’ve overheard great Indra’s queen, as she was consoling Śakuntalā, say that the gods themselves, wanting their share of the ancestral offerings, will manoeuvre matters so that her husband will soon greet his lawful wife. So I should wait until the time is fit, and meanwhile console my dearest friend with news of this.

  [She exits into the sky

  VIDŪṢAKA [off-stage]. Help! Brahminicide!*

  KING [coming to and listening]. What? Mādhavya’s strangulated voice? Hello! Who’s there?

  DOORKEEPER [entering in haste]. Your friend is in danger, my lord! Please save him!

  KING. Who dares to threaten Mādhavya?

  DOORKEEPER. An invisible spirit has got hold of him and dragged him onto the roof of the Palace of Clouds.

  KING [rising]. Don’t even say it! In my own household, and not protected from spirits! But then:

  How can I keep track (26)

  Of my subjects,

  When from day to day

  I have no idea

  Which way I’m going myself?

  VIDŪṢAKA [off-stage]. Help me, friend! Help me!

  KING [starting to move quickly]. Don’t be afraid!

  VIDŪṢAKA [off-stage, still calling for help]. Don’t be afraid? When something’s forcing my neck back and trying to split it in three like a sugarcane stalk?

  KING [looking around]. My bow! Now!

  BOWBEARER [entering]. Your bow, arrow, and wrist-guard, my lord.

  [The KING takes them

  OFF-STAGE VOICE.

  I’ll kill you as a tiger (27)

  Kills his kicking prey,

  And suck the blood,

  From your tattered, pulsing throat—

  Or let Duṣyanta,

  Who claims to meet all threats,

  And face down danger with his bow,

  Convey you to some place of safety—

  If he can.

  KING [angrily]. You dare to address me so? Stay there, you carrion-eater! Now’s your time to die! [Stringing his bow] Vetravatī, to the stairs!

  DOORKEEPER. This way, my lord!

  [All rush forward in haste

  KING [looking all around]. Where are they? It’s empty!

  VIDŪṢAKA [off-stage]. Help! Help! I can see you—can’t you see me?

  There’s no hope for me then—I’m like a mouse in the claws of a cat!

  KING. Spirit! You may be invisible, but my arrows have no need of sight! Now I draw my bow, and now:

  As a goose siphons milk (28)

  From a pool of water,* I’ll save

  The brahmin, as he deserves,

  And deliver you to your well-earned death.

  [He aims his arrow

  Immediately MĀTALI appears, at the same time releasing

  the VIDŪṢAKA.

  MĀTALI.

  Indra makes demons your target— (29)

  Aim your arrows at them.

  As for your friends, let

  Love be your weapon.

  KING [dropping his aim in haste]. Aha! It’s Mātali! You are welcome, great Indra’s charioteer!

  VIDŪṢAKA. He tries to kill me like a sacrificial beast, and you welcome him with open arms!

  MĀTALI [smiling]. Ageless King! Will you hear why Indra has sent me to you?

  KING. I am all attention.

  MĀTALI. There’s a near-invincible brood of demons, descended from Kālanemi … *

  KING. Yes, Nārada* once told me about them.

  MĀTALI.

  The sun doesn’t touch that night (30)

  The moon dispels. To those demons

  Indra is the sun, and you the moon—

  So you should be the one to fight.

  You are armed already, my lord. You only have to mount Indra’s chariot, and victory is assured!

  KING. Indra honours me, indeed. But why this rough treatment of Mādhavya?

  MĀTALI. Quite simple. I saw you were depressed for one reason or another, and sought to rouse you by making you angry.

  Stir the embers and the fire leaps up, (31)

  Threaten the snake and its hood expands—

  Everything in nature, if provoked, responds.

  KING [aside to the VIDŪṢAKA]. Friend, I cannot ignore the Lord of Heaven’s command. Inform Minister Piśuna what’s happened, and tell him this fro
m me:

  Concentrate your mind on protecting the realm: (32)

  My bow and I have godly business to perform.

  VIDŪṢAKA. Whatever the king commands.

  [Exits

  MĀTALI. To the chariot, great lord!

  [The king mounts the chariot. All exit

  ACT 7

  The KING and MĀTALI enter from the direction of heaven, on a flying chariot.

  KING. Mātali, I only did what Indra asked of me. That hardly seems to merit the special treatment I’ve received.

  MĀTALĪ [smiling]. It seems to me you’re both unsatisfied, my lord:

  Because Indra himself picks you out (1)

  For high distinction, you feel surprise,

  And think you must be undeserving.

  But to him such plaudits seem a meagre prize

  For the prince who destroyed such demons.

  KING. Not at all, Mātali! As I was leaving, he honoured me beyond any possible expectation, allowing me to share his throne in front of all the gods.

  When Jayanta* saw his smiling father (2)

  Give me a garland of coral,

  Stained by that same heavenly sandal

  That decorates great Indra’s body,

  His envy could hardly be suppressed.

  MĀTALI. Ageless Lord, tell me what you don’t deserve from the king of the immortals. Consider:

  Twice now, Indra’s pleasure-heaven has been saved (3)

  From spiny demons—once by Viṣṇtu

  With his man-lion claws,* and then by you

  With your streamlined arrows.

  KING. But here too, it’s the greatness of Indra that should be praised.

  However much the man aspires, (4)

  Success depends upon his lord’s

  Commission. Dawn would be trying

  To smudge the darkness still,

  Had the sun not made him

  His charioteer.

  MĀTALI. It’s an excellent attitude! [After going further] Look there, my lord! See how your fame lights up the vault of heaven!

  On palm leaves plucked from the wish-giving tree, (5)

  With a palette of celestial nymphs’ cosmetics,

  Your immortality is sanctioned in a sketch,