by Kalidasa
Or heavenly song.
KING. Mātali, I was so eager to fight demons, I didn’t notice the path we took yesterday as we flew into the heavens. But what wind course are we on now?
MĀTALI.
This is the path of the wind, Parivaha,* (6)
Freed from darkness by Viṣṇu’s second stride—
The wind that swells the Gaṅgā’s triple tide
And buffets light from the orbiting stars.
KING. Mātali, this is why my body, mind, and soul are calm. [Looking at the chariot wheels] Now, I think, we’re descending to cloud level.
MĀTALI. How do you know that?
KING.
Lightning buffs the horses’ coats, (7)
Our wheels glisten from rain and mist;
Cuckoos swerve between their spokes.
MĀTALI. Shortly, we shall come to earth in your very own kingdom, my lord.
KING [looking down]. The speed of our descent turns the human realm into something amazing!
Now a mountain peak appears, the world (8)
Seems to flow like lava down its face;
Branches are salvaged from a sea of leaves;
Ribbons turn to rivers; now the earth
Heaves up to meet me, as though some giant hand
Had pushed it into space.
MĀTALI. Well observed! [Looking down with reverence] Ah, but the world is beautiful!
KING. Mātali, what mountain range is that, standing between the eastern and western oceans, running it seems with liquid gold, like a cloudbank at sunset?
MĀTALI. It is indeed called ‘Golden Peak’, the mountain of the demigods, where asceticism ends in perfect success, my lord.
Mārīca, lord of creation, (9)
Sprung from self-existent Brahmā,
Father of gods and demons,*
Leads a life of penance there
With Aditi his wife.
KING. One shouldn’t fly past fortune! I shan’t go on until I’ve walked in worship round the holy sage.
MĀTALI. An impeccable resolve!
[They start to descend
KING [astonished].
The chariot descended (10)
Without seeming to descend—
Without the slightest sound,
Or coil of dust,
Or bridle twitch,
It hovers just above the surface
Of the earth.
MĀTALI. That is the difference between you and Indra, my lord.
KING. Where is Mārīca’s hermitage, Mātali?
MĀTALI [pointing].
There, where that sage (11)
Is rooted like a tree-trunk, Staring at the sun,
Buried in an anthill
High as the snake skin
That girdles his chest,
Half-strangled
By the dried and shrinking vine
Entwined around his neck,
His shoulders shrouded
In his matted hair,
Bulging with the nests
Of sweet śakunta birds,
Is where you’ll find this lord.
KING. I bow to that sage for his great penance.
MĀTALI [reining in the horses]. Now we are entering Mārīca’s hermitage, where the coral trees are tended by Aditi herself.
KING. A place more tranquil than heaven! I feel as though I’m floating in a pool of nectar.
MĀTALI [stopping the chariot]. You may get down now, my lord.
KING [alighting]. And what about you, Mātali?
MĀTALI. I’ll secure the chariot and get down too. [He does so] This way, sir. [Turning around] Up ahead, you can make out the seers’ penance groves.
KING. It’s an astonishing sight!
In a wood of trees that grant all wishes, (12)
These ascetics live on air. Where they bathe,
The lotus gilds the water with its pollen;
They meditate on marbled, jewel-encrusted stairs,
Dead to the charms of celestial women—
Ascetics in that very heaven
That others through their practice hope to gain.
MĀTALI. The great attempt the greatest ends. [He walks about, calling aloud] Ancient Śākalya, what is the venerable Mārīca doing? What do you say? … Prompted by Aditi’s questioning, he’s addressing the seers’ spouses about the responsibilities of a devoted wife?*
KING [listening]. With such a subject, we must wait our turn.
MĀTALI [looking at the king]. Your Majesty could sit at the foot of this ashoka tree, while I find the right moment to announce your arrival to Indra’s father.
KING. Whatever you advise.
[He sits
MĀTALI. I shall go now.
[He exits
KING [sensing an omen].
My desire is hopeless, yet this vein (13)
Throbs in my arm—*
Once abandoned, fortune
Is incessant pain.
OFF-STAGE VOICE. Don’t act so rashly! How he reverts to his nature!
KING [listening]. This is no place for uncontrolled behaviour. Who can they be reprimanding? [Looking in the direction of the voice, surprised] Ah! And what kind of child is this, guarded by two female ascetics, and so much stronger than his years? For:
As a game (14)
He’s manhandled this cub,*
Dragged its mane
From its mother’s dripping dug.
Enter the BOY as described, accompanied by two female ASCETICS.
BOY. Lion, open your mouth! I want to count your teeth!
FIRST ASCETIC. Naughty boy! Why do you tease the animals we love like children? You seem to get wilder by the minute. The seers were right to call you ‘Sarvadamana’—‘All Tamer’!
KING. Why am I drawn to this child, as though to my own son? Precisely because I don’t have a child of my own … It must be playing on my mind.
SECOND ASCETIC. If you don’t let her cub go, the lioness will maul you!
BOY [grinning]. Oh, I’m so frightened!
[Pouting
KING.
In this child (15)
There’s a seed
Of astonishing force;
Like a spark,
It needs nothing but fuel
To break into life.
FIRST ASCETIC. Child, let go of the cub and I’ll give you something else to play with!
BOY. Where is it? Give it to me!
[He stretches out his hand
KING. How can that be? He bears the marks of a world ruler. For:
Now, as he opens his hand (16)
To grasp some toy,
I see how delicately his palms are webbed,*
Like a lotus, whose petals
Never quite part
In the first faint light of day.
SECOND ASCETIC. Suvratā, words alone won’t stop him. Go to my hut and fetch that painted peacock, the toy seer Mārkandeya’s son left behind.
FIRST ASCETIC. I’ll get it.
[She exits
BOY. But this cub’s still my toy while I’m waiting!
[He looks at the ascetic and laughs
KING. There’s something draws me to this spoilt boy.
Lucky the man who cradles in his lap (17)
His little son, and breathes the dust that mats
His hair, touches the buds of his first milk teeth,
Anticipates his stammering speech.*
SECOND ASCETIC. See how he ignores me! [She looks back] Are any of the sages’ sons there? [Seeing the KING] Sir, please come here! I can’t loosen his grip on the little cub. To him it’s just a game to torment it!
KING [approaching with a smile]. Oh son of a great sage,
You were born to self-restraint, (18)
So why break the rule of the sanctuary,
And like an infant snake in a sandal tree
Disturb such perfect harmony?
SECOND ASCETIC. Good sir, he’s no sage’s son!
KING. That I should have guessed fr
om his actions and his looks. It was just the surroundings misled me …
[He does as she asks. At the touch of the BOY, he speaks to himself
When I, a stranger, steal a frisson (19)
From this boy’s touch,
What can limit his father’s joy,
Who watches, day by day,
His son grow up?
SECOND ASCETIC [looking at them both]. What an extraordinary thing!
KING. What is it, madam?
SECOND ASCETIC. I’m astonished that you and the boy are so alike! And though he’s never seen you before, he’s not at all shy.
KING [fondling the boy]. If he’s no hermit’s child, then what’s his lineage?
SECOND ASCETIC. He belongs to Puru’s family.
KING [to himself]. What! We belong to the same lineage? No wonder she thinks we resemble each other. And, indeed, the Puru line does have a family vow:
As world-protectors they begin (20)
In castles crammed with sense delights,
But later make the wood their home
With holy men and anchorites.
[Aloud] But mortals don’t have the power to enter this place on their own.
SECOND ASCETIC. You’re quite right, sir. But because his mother is the daughter of a nymph, she was allowed to give birth to him here in Mārīca’s hermitage.
KING [to himself]. More ground for hope. [Aloud] The lady’s husband—what is that royal seer’s name?
SECOND ASCETIC. Who would think to pronounce the name of a man who’s cast off his lawful wife?
KING [to himself]. This may be my story. Now, if I were to ask the name of the boy’s mother … But then it’s not done to ask about some other man’s wife.
FIRST ASCETIC [entering with a clay peacock in her hand]. Sarvada-mana, look at the śakunta landing! What a pretty bird!
BOY [looking around]. Mamma? Where is she?*
BOTH ASCETICS. He wants his mother. It was the similar-sounding name that tricked him.
SECOND ASCETIC. Darling, she just wanted you to look at the lovely clay peacock, the śakunta bird.
KING [to himself]. What! His mother’s name’s Śakuntalā? But even that name is not unique, and like a mirage may lead to nothing but despair.
BOY. Auntie, I like this pretty peacock!
[He takes the toy
FIRST ASCETIC [looking about anxiously]. Ah no, he’s lost the amulet that protects him—there’s nothing on his wrist!
KING. Don’t worry. He dropped it there when he was wrestling with the lion cub.
[He goes to pick it up
BOTH ASCETICS. Don’t touch it! … Ah, too late, he’s picked it up!
[Clasping their hands to their bosoms, they stare at
each other in amazement
KING. Why shouldn’t I touch it?
FIRST ASCETIC. Listen, great king. At the time of his birth ritual, lord Mārīca gave him the herb contained in this amulet. It’s called Aparājitā, ‘The Invincible’. If it’s dropped, no one can pick it up—apart from his parents and himself.
KING. And if someone else does take it up?
FIRST ASCETIC. Then it changes into a snake and bites him.
KING. Have you ladies ever seen it change in such a way?
BOTH ASCETICS. Many times.
KING [delighted, to himself]. Then let me rejoice, for I have my heart’s desire.
[He embraces the boy
SECOND ASCETIC. Suvratā, over here. This is news, indeed, with which to interrupt Śakuntalā’s austerities.
[Both exit
BOY. Let me go! I want to go to Mamma!
KING. My little son, we shall greet your mother together.
BOY. Duṣyanta’s my Daddy, not you!
KING [smiling]. A denial that makes it certain.
ŚAKUNTALĀ enters, as though in mourning, with her hair
tied in a single braid*
ŚAKUNTALĀ. They tell me Sarvadamana’s amulet didn’t change, but why should I believe my fortune has, because of that? Yet perhaps what SānumatI says is true …
KING [seeing ŚAKUNTALĀ]. Ah, it is the lady Śakuntalā!
Her robes are dusky, drab, (21)
Her hair a single braid,
Her cheeks drawn in by penance—
She’s been so pure and constant
In that vow of separation
I so callously began.
ŚAKUNTALĀ [seeing the KING pale from suffering]. He doesn’t look like my husband. Who is this who dares to pollute my son with his touch, in spite of the amulet?
BOY [running to his mother]. Mamma, this stranger is calling me his son!
KING. My dear, that cruelty I practised on you has come full circle, since now it is I who need to be recognized by you.
ŚAKUNTALĀ [to herself]. Heart, be calm, be consoled. My bitter fate has turned compassionate. It is indeed my husband.
KING. My dear,
Memory breaks my black delusion: (22)
Beautiful as Rohinī,*
Back with her lord
After his lunar eclipse,
You stand before me.
ŚAKUNTALĀ. Victory, victory to my noble husb-
[She breaks off in the middle, her voice choked by tears
KING. Beautiful lady,
Choked by tears, you couldn’t say it, (23)
But the victory is mine—
For in looking on your pale
Unpainted lips, I have at last
Recalled your face.
BOY. Mamma, who is he?
ŚAKUNTALĀ. Ask what shares you have in fate, my child.
KING [falling at ŚAKUNTALĀ’s feet].
Let the pain of my rejection (24)
Pass from your heart.
I was deluded, blocked by the dark
From my own good fortune,
Blind as the man who tore at his neck,
Believing his garland a snake.
ŚAKUNTALĀ. Arise, my husband! I must have done something terrible in a previous life, and was punished for it at just that time.* If not, why would your gentle heart have hardened towards me? [The KING rises] But how did my lord remember this woman whose portion is pain?
KING. I’ll tell you, but first let me pull this barb of sorrow from my heart.
Deluded, I once ignored (25)
A tear that smudged
Your quivering lip.
Now let me wipe away its sister
Trembling on your lash,
And with it my remorse.
[He does so
ŚAKUNTALĀ [seeing the signet ring]. Noble husband, this is the ring!
KING. And when it was recovered, my memory recovered too.
ŚAKUNTALĀ. It acted unfaithfully—at the very time I needed to convince my husband, it went missing.
KING. Then let the vine take this flower back as a sign of her reunion with spring.
ŚAKUNTALĀ. I don’t trust it now. You wear it, my lord.
MĀTALI enters.
MĀTALI. Congratulations, my lord! Reunited with your lawful wife, and able to gaze on your little son’s face.
KING. My desire has ripened into a sweet fruit. But, tell me MĀtali, didn’t Indra know all about this?
MĀTALI [smiling]. What do such lords not know? Come now, Majesty. Lord Mārīca has granted you an interview.
KING. Śakuntalā, bring our son. I should like the three of us to see Mārīca together.
ŚAKUNTALĀ. I am embarrassed to go before my elders in my husband’s company.
KING. But you should, when the occasion is so joyful. Come … come.
They all walk around. Then MĀRĪCA enters with ADITI, and they sit
MĀRĪCA [seeing the KING]. Aditi:
This is the world’s protector, (26)
King Duṣyanta,
Who leads Indra’s armies
To battle.
His bow is the reason
Your son’s thunder-
Bolt, and other weapons,
Lie redund
ant.
ADITI. I could tell as much just by looking at him.
MĀTALI. Majesty, here are the parents of the gods looking at you with a parental eye. You may approach them.
KING. Mātali:
Is this that couple sages say (27)
Sprung from Marīci and Dakṣa,*
The sons of creator Brahmā—
That couple who are themselves
The source of the fiery sun’s
Twelve forms*—parents of Indra
Who rules the triple world,
The sacred family into which
Self-existent Viṣṇu,
The universal form,
Consented to be born?
MĀTALI. Even so.
KING [approaching]. Duṣyanta, Indra’s servant, bows before you.
MĀRĪCA. May you live long, my son, to protect the earth!
ADITI. Be an invincible hero, my son!
ŚAKUNTALĀ. My son and I worship at your feet.
MĀRĪCA. Daughter:
If your husband’s (28)
like Indra
And your son
like Jayanta,
Then may you be
like Paulomī—*
That’s the only
apt blessing.
ADITI. Daughter, may your husband show you the greatest honour. And may your son live long to the delight of both your families! Now, sit.
[They all sit down before MĀRĪCA
MĀRĪCA [pointing to each in turn].
Fortune unites faith, wealth, and order: (29)
Śakuntalā the pure, her noble son, the king.
KING. Lord, my deepest wish was granted first, and then I saw you—an unprecedented kindness, for:
Causes normally usher in effects— (30)
Clouds bubble up before a downpour,
The flower blossoms first, and then the fruit—
But here, fortune anticipates your favour.
MĀTALI. This is the way creators create blessings.
KING. Sir, I married this lady, your servant, in secret. Later, when her relatives brought her to join me, my memory failed; I rejected her, and sinned against your kinsman, the sage Kaṇva. Later still I saw this ring, and then it came to me that I had indeed married his daughter. It all seems so strange …
I am like a man who disbelieves (31)
The evidence of his eyes:
For all its obvious size,
