IV

And yet they were all wrong. For there was another thing that nobody

knew anything about, that I cared for even more than for my lute. And

all the while I wandered, I was looking for a thing that flew before

me the more I kept pursuing it, like the setting of the sun. And yet

it hung, so to say, always just before my eyes, like a picture on the

wall, so that often I used to talk to it, as if it were alive, as I

sat. And yet it never answered, looking back at me in silence with

strange kind eyes, and seeming to listen to me gazing at it wistfully,

and playing on my lute. And this was a woman, that had come to me in a

dream. For but a little while before I quarrelled with my father, I

was lying, on a day, at noon, when I had been following a quarry in

the jungle till I ached with fatigue, resting on a river bank: and so

as I lay, unawares I fell asleep. And I thought that I wandered

through a palace that I had never seen before, till suddenly I came

upon a terrace that stood on the very margin of a lake, that was

filled with myriads of lotuses, all turned red by the rays of the

setting sun, which stood never moving on the top of a low hill, as if

it were watching me to see what I should do, before it went away. And

there was such a strange silence that I began to be afraid, as if of

something that was just about to happen, without knowing what. And so

as we all stood waiting in the dusk, I and the lotuses and the sun,

all at once I heard behind me a voice like a _kokila_, saying quietly:

I have kept thee a long while waiting: wilt thou forgive?

And I turned round, and looked, and lo! there was a lady, looking at

me with a smile. And she was standing so absolutely still, that she

resembled an image made of copper, for exactly like the lotuses, she

was all red in the rays of the sun, and her dark clothing shone like

the leaf of a palm seen at midnight in the glow of a fire. And her

hair was massed like that of an ascetic high over her brow, and on its

dull black cloud there shone a gem that resembled a star, shooting and

flickering and changing colour like a diamond mixed with an opal:

while underneath, her eyes, that resembled pools filled with dusk

instead of water, were fixed on me as if in meditation, as if half in

doubt as to whether I was I. And yet her lips were smiling, not as if

they meant to smile, but just because they could not help it, driven

by the sweetness of the soul that lay behind them to betray its secret

unawares. And the perfect oval of the outline of her face was lifted,

so to say, into the superlative degree of soft fascination by a faint

suggestion of the round ripeness of a fruit in its bloom, as if the

Creator, by some magical extra touch of his chisel, had wished to

exclaim: See how the full loveliness of a woman surpasses the delicate

promise of a girl! And she was rather tall, and she stood up very

straight indeed, so straight, that my heart laughed within me as I

looked at her, for sheer delight, so admirably upright was the poise

of her figure, and yet so round and delicious was the curve of her

arms and her slender waist, that rose as if with exultation into the

glorious magnificence of her splendid breast, on which her left hand

rested, just touching it very lightly with the tips of her fingers,

like a wind-blown leaf lying for a moment exactly at the point of

junction of two mounds of snow, as if to chide it very gently for

challenging the admiration of the three worlds. And she stood with her

weight thrown on her left foot, so that her right hip, on which her

right hand rested, swelled out in a huge curve that ran down to her

knee, which was bent in, and then turned outwards, ending in a little

foot that was standing very nearly on the tip of its toe.

And so as we stood, gazing at one another in dead silence, all at once

she smiled outright, holding out both her hands. And at that very

moment, the sun sank. And as I strove in vain to move, rooted to the

spot like a tree, she faded away, very slowly, back again into the

dark, growing little by little paler, till she vanished into the

night, leaving nothing but her star, that seemed to glimmer at me from

a great distance, low down on the very edge of a deep-red sky. And I

strove and struggled in desperation to break the spell that held me

chained, and suddenly I woke with a loud cry, and saw before me only

the river, on whose bank I was lying alone.

V

Aye! then for the first time in my life, I knew what it meant, to be

alone, which had been to me but a mere word, without any meaning at

all. For as I sat by the river, I knew I had left my soul behind in

the dream that had disappeared. And my heart was burning with such a

pain that I could only breathe with great difficulty, and tears rose

into my eyes, as it were of their own accord. And I said sadly to

myself: Now, beyond all doubt, I have seen some feminine incarnation

of a fallen star, and unless I can find it somewhere on earth, I shall

lose the fruit of being born at all. So one thing only remains to do,

and that is to look for her, and keep on looking until I find her. For

if only I was sure, that she was absolutely beyond finding, I would

not consent to remain in this miserable body without her, even for a

single moment. But she must be alive somewhere, and able to be found:

for how could such a thing as she was exist only in a dream? For

nobody could possibly have invented her, no, not even in a dream: and

it must be that my soul went roaming about as I slept, and actually

caught sight of her. And if the soul could find her, then, she is

somewhere to be found, even by the body; but alas! the body cannot

travel so easily as the soul: since, in his haste, the Creator has

forgotten to give wings to anything but birds. And yet, the only thing

to do is to hunt for her incessantly, and go from place to place

without stopping for a moment: since very certainly she will never be

discovered if I remain here as motionless as a hill. So I must escape

at once, on some pretence, without letting anybody know why.

And as I said, I did: and this was the very reason why I broke with my

relations, and became a vagrant instead of a king's heir. And every

night I went to sleep yearning to dream the dream again, and yet it

never came, though even in my sleep I seemed in every dream to be

roaming everlastingly in jungles, and along roads that never ended,

always on the very point of finding something that I never found. And

strange! instead of driving me to despair, this constant failure

actually gave me courage, for I said: If the dream had really been

only a dream and nothing more, it would surely have returned, beyond a

doubt: since, as a rule, dreams are only pictures in the night of what

men think of in the day. And yet she never comes again, although I

think of nothing else, all day long, and she was very certainly no

picture of anything that I ever saw before. And clearly, it must be

that my soul did actually find her, though now it has lost its way,

and does not know how to return.

And in the meanwhile, as time went on, the less I found her, the more

I fell back upon my lute, which became the only confidante of my

secret, and my sole refuge in my desolation. And I used to sit

playing, thinking all the while of nothing but herself, so that she

gradually became as it were the theme and the undertone of every air.

And the listeners would say: Ha! now beyond a doubt this player on the

lute must be some incarnation of a Kinnara, for the sound of his music

resembles that of the wind singing in the hollows of the bamboos that

wave over waterfalls on the sides of the snowy mountain: and his lute

seems to sob, in the vain endeavour to express some melancholy secret

that for want of words it cannot articulately tell, wringing as it

were its hands of strings, for very grief: And I became a byword, and

the fame of my music was carried into the quarters of the world, like

the scent of the sandal that the breeze blows from the Malaya hill in

the region of the South.

And then at last I came, on a day, tired out with travel, to

Kamalapura.[12] And delighted with its trees and its river and its

lotuses, I found a little house, and lodged in it, to rest for a

while. And one morning, there came to me a musician of the city, who

loved me for my playing, and he said: How comes it, O Shatrunjaya,

that thou hast not been to play to Táráwalí?[13] And I said: Who is

Táráwalí, that I should go to play to her, who never go to anyone at

all? And he laughed, and exclaimed: Who is Táráwalí? What! dost thou

actually say that thou hast never even heard of her, the Queen of

this city? And I said: I did not know that thy Táráwalí was the same

as the Queen, of whom indeed I have heard, very often, as everybody

must who comes to this city: for as it seems, the citizens never talk

of anything or anybody else, never saying anything about her that

recommends her to me; since, as I understand, she is an

independent[14] woman, who goes her own way, like the wind, caring

absolutely nothing where it takes her, or what anybody says. And he

said: Let them say what they will, at least she is a connoisseur in

music, and plays the lute herself, though not so well as thou. And

they tell me, she is very curious to see thee, and to hear thee, of

whom she has heard so much. And I said carelessly: The curiosity is

not reciprocal, since on my side there is absolutely none. And

moreover, independent women are not to my taste, even when they happen

to be queens. So it will be better for us both, to leave her curiosity

unsatisfied. And he said: Well have they named thee, the mad musician:

for thou art utterly unlike all other men. Thou hast thrown away thy

kingdom for a lute: and now thou sittest like a stone, unmoved, to

hear that even Táráwalí is curious on thy account: a thing that would

set any other man dancing for delight, like a peacock at the sight of

a cloud. Art thou indeed a stone, or is it sheer ignorance of what

Táráwalí is like? And I said: And what then is she like? And he said:

She is like absolutely nothing in the world but herself, and cannot

therefore be described at all, but only seen. So the only way to get

thy question answered is to go, and see her for thyself. And I said:

Then it never will be answered, for I will not go and see. I am no

tame animal, to go where I am called: I am wild. And he said: Aye! but

the wild swans go to the Mánasa lake of their own accord. Thou art

like a young wild swan, refusing, for sheer obstinacy, to visit the

very place, that, had it only seen it, it would never be induced to

desert again. For Táráwalí is exactly a Mánasa[15] for such a swan as

thee. And for all answer, I took my lute, and began to pluck at the

strings.

And he stood for a while, drumming on the sill of the window as he

looked out: and then he turned and said: If thou hast no curiosity,

thou hast at least the manners of a king's son. Wouldst thou be so

uncivil as to say no to her invitation, if she sent to thee, to come?

And I said: Why suppose what never can occur? Surely this independent

queen does not go to such a length as to act like an _abhisáriká_,[16]

and throw herself of her own accord at the head of every stranger that

may wander through her city? And he laughed, and said: Wouldst thou

actually shut thy door in her face, even so, if she were an

incomparable beauty? Even an _abhisáriká_ might be welcome, to anybody

but thyself, who art said to be a hater of all women whatsoever. And I

said: Why should I hate all women, who never think of them at all?

And he looked at me for a long while; and then he said: Who knows?

Thou art so singular in everything that it is just barely possible

that thou art telling me the truth, though it is very hard to believe

it, in the mouth of a youth like thee. And yet, if as thou sayest, thy

heart be really empty, Táráwalí could fill it for thee, easily enough.

Aye! even if it were a desert equal to Marusthalí in dryness and

extent, a single glance at her would turn it into an ocean, tossing

with agitation, and running over with excess of salt.[17]

And then he went away. And instantly I forgot all about her, absorbed

in my lute and the recollection of my dream.