one that has burst the bonds of all restraint, and thrown all
consideration to the eight quarters of the world. But as soon as she
stopped, the old King uttered a doleful cry. And he exclaimed:
Yashowatí, O daughter, what words are these? Is it any fault of thine
that thou art beautiful? And wilt thou talk of abandoning the body?
Then what will become of the family, of which thou art the only hope?
But Aja laughed: and he said: O lovely lady, waste not thy grief on
such a thing as I am: and O father-in-law, cease from bewailing
calamities that are only the shadows of thy own fears cast upon the
dark curtain of the future. For many are they that are doomed to die,
yet never perish after all. And I have not escaped the sand to perish
lightly in any other way. Be assured that the lamp of thy race is
burning still with a steady flame, not to be extinguished by a little
puff of wind. To-morrow we will laugh together over these idle
apprehensions, which the rising sun will dissipate together with the
mists of night.
But Yashowatí turned, and looked at him with steady eyes. And she
said: My husband, for such indeed thou art, the first that I have ever
chosen,[1] and the last that shall ever claim my hand: dost thou think
that I would have so far forgotten the reserve that is becoming to a
maiden of my caste, as to offer myself like an _abhisáriká_, but that I
know, as thou canst not know it, the absolute and utterly inevitable
certainty of thy doom, and that this is the very last day we shall
spend together, though it is also the very first? And Aja looked at
her with affection: and he laughed again. And he said: Sweet wife,
since thou art so very certain, then as it must be, let it be. What
care I for to-morrow, if I am with thee all to-day? Knowing that but
an hour ago, when first I saw thee, I would have given my life, doubly
dear as it was by reason of its recent escape from death, to win from
thee a little love, even a very little. But as it is, a single day is
life enough, provided it is spent with thee, even though I were really
destined never to see another.
And she looked at him with wistful eyes; and after a while, she said:
Thou art brave, and as I would have had thee. And thou dost not
believe me: and it may be, it is better so. And then she turned to the
King, and said: O father, go away now: and leave me alone with my
husband. And be not afraid, either for thy honour or my own, for there
shall be as it were a sword between us. But I wish to have him all to
myself, until the end. And when the time has come, let the gong be
sounded, and I will send him out to thee, and thou canst show him the
way to death. And thereupon the old King went away as she desired,
moaning and muttering, and wringing his hands with grief.
So when he was gone, those two lovers sat together all day long, gazing
at each other like the sunflower and the sun. And he utterly forgot
the morrow, but it never left her mind, even for a single instant. And
she made him relate to her his whole life from the very beginning,
drinking in his words, and hanging on his lips, and watching him
keenly, with eyes that never left his face, holding all the while his
hand, with the grasp of one who knows that her husband must be led to
execution in the evening. And she said to herself, at every moment:
Still he is here: still he is here. And when the sun set, she sent for
food and delicacies and wine, and fed him like a child with her own
hand, tasting herself nothing. And she surfeited him with the honey of
her sweetness and the syrup of her kisses and the nectar of the young
new moon of beauty bathed in the sun of love, the redder[2] because of
its approaching set. And all at once, she started to her feet, in the
very middle of a caress. And she stood, listening. And Aja listened
also: and he heard in the silence the sound of a gong.
So as he watched her, she turned paler and ever paler, like the east at
the break of dawn. And she put her two hands together, and pressed
them tight against her heart, and then against her brow. And all at
once, she came quickly to him, and said in a low voice: It is time.
And she took his head in her hands, and kissed him, with lips that were
cold as ice, and yet hot as fire, first on the eyes, and then on the
mouth, and last of all upon the brow. And then she took his hand, and
held it for a little while, with a clutch that almost hurt him, gazing
at him with thirsty eyes. And suddenly, she threw away his hand, and
pushed him away roughly, saying: Go. But Aja caught her in his arms,
and kissed her yet again, as it were against her will. And he said: O
fearful heart, be not afraid. Very soon, I will return. And he went
away quickly, but at the door he turned, and saw her standing still,
watching him with dry bright eyes, and lips that were shut tight. And
at that very moment, the old King took him by the arm, and said: Come
now, and I will show thee the way by which all thy predecessors went
before thee.
Then Aja said: O King, I am unarmed. Give me a weapon to carry with
me. So the King took him into the armoury, and he chose for himself a
sword almost as long as he was tall. But he threw away the scabbard,
saying: This would only be in the way: and now I am prepared. And then
the King led him away, and up a winding stair.
And when they were at the top, he stopped. And he said: O son-in-law
that might have been, now fare thee well. And even I feel it harder to
part with thee than with any of thy predecessors. Thou wouldst have
made an altogether appropriate husband for my daughter, and O! that
thou couldst have seen her dance, before thus disappearing: but now it
is too late, for I doubt whether Tumburu himself could make her dance
to-night, so troubled did she seem to be at bidding thee good-bye. Go
out, now, through yonder door: and thou wilt be more fortunate than all
the others, if thou canst manage to return through it.
Then he went back into the palace. But Aja passed through the door,
and found himself on the city wall.
[1] This was the privilege of kings' daughters.
[2] A play on words: meaning also _more affectionate_.
A Total Eclipse
[Illustration: Hindu script]
_Then kith and kin and home forget, and all,
To sail beyond the setting sun, with me,
Where dead love's dreamy recollections call
Across the sea._
A Total Eclipse
I
And he stood on the edge of the city wall, with his naked sword in his
hand. And he looked on this side and on that, and saw the turrets of
the city jutting out along the wall, like the huge black heads of
elephants of war advancing in a line. And behind him lay the city,
covered over with a pall of black that was edged and touched with
silver points and fringes; and before him the desert stretched away,
smeared as it were with ashes, under the light of the moon. And brave
as he was, his heart beat, just a very little, in expectation of what
was coming. And he said to himself: My father-in-law's dismissal was
not very reassuring. But where then is the danger, and from what
quarter is it coming, and what form will it take? For here is nothing
whatever to fight with, except the shadows cast by the moon. Or is
this all merely a trick of the King to test me, before which all my
predecessors have ignominiously failed? Yet no. For were it so, my
wife would indeed be an actress[1] capable of reducing Tumburu to the
state of ashes.
So as he stood, waiting, and smiling at his own thoughts, it happened
that that daughter of Kírttisena, whose jealousy of the King's daughter
had caused all the trouble in the King's city, came according to her
custom flying towards the city wall. For every night she came to see
whether there was a new suitor. And whenever she discovered one, she
had recourse to a Rákshasa that was bound to her by obligations, who
came as soon as thought of, and swallowed that unhappy suitor whole.[2]
And now for some time, no new suitor had appeared. So as she came
flying in the likeness of a bat, she looked towards the city wall,
expecting to find it empty. And she saw, instead, Aja, standing,
leaning on his sword, and smiling, on the very edge of the wall. And
at the very first glance at him, she was struck with stupor, and she
fell that very moment so violently in love with him[3] that she could
hardly flap her wings, by reason of the fierce agitation of her heart.
So she alighted on the wall, a little distance off, and remained
watching him, hardly able to breathe for emotion, in her own form[4]
but surrounding herself with a veil of invisibility to escape his
observation. And after a while, she drew a long breath, and murmured
to herself: Ha! this is a suitor indeed, very different from all the
others; and rather than a mere mortal man, he resembles the son of
Dewakí,[5] with Rádhá caressing him in the form of the moonlight that
seems to cling affectionately to his glorious limbs. Ha! he looks
like the tutelary deity of the city come to defy me, bringing the god
of love to his aid in the form of his own marvellous and incomparable
beauty. Aye! and I feel that I am defeated already, before the battle
has so much as begun. And then, all at once, a spasm of rage shot
through her heart, and she turned pale. And she exclaimed: Ah! but I
am anticipated by this accursed King's daughter, who will rob me of
him, nay, has already done it, by her undeniable hateful beauty, and
her priority of claim. Alas! alas! O why did I not see him first,
before her abominable loveliness had made an impression on his heart?
For he is very young, and it must be, open to the spell of beauty, and
artless, and sincere. Ha! And suddenly, she started up, as if an idea
had rushed into her mind. And she stood for a moment, thinking. And
then she exclaimed, with a gesture of resolution: Yes, I also am
beautiful. Now, then, I will efface her image from his heart, and
replace it by my own. Now I will assault him, by all the power of my
charms,[6] and we will see whether he will be proof against the glamour
of a beauty such as mine, multiplied and magnified by magic sorcery and
fierce determination. Aye! I will move heaven and earth to steal his
heart from the King's daughter, and turn Pátála[7] upside down to make
him mine instead of hers. But if I fail? And again she turned deadly
pale. And after a while, a bitter smile curled over her lips. And she
said: If, if I fail; no, but I will not fail. But if I fail, then, I
will take another way.
[1] An actress and a dancer are in Sanskrit denoted by the same word.
[2] This method of disposing of objectionable suitors is unfortunately
not available in Europe. A great swallowing capacity is a feature of
the species Rákshasa. The "coming as soon as thought of"
(_dhyátágata_) is the Indian equivalent of "rubbing the lamp" in the
Arabian Nights.
[3] _Who ever loved that loved not at first sight_? Every Oriental
would side with Shakespeare in this matter: love, in the East is not
love, unless it comes like a flash of lightning.
[4] This might be either that of a woman or a snake, for the Nagas, to
whom she belonged, waver between the two. The Naga, it may be well to
remind the reader, is a being possessed of magic powers, especially
that of _glamour_ or _blearing the eye_, which appealed so powerfully
to Spenser and Sir Walter Scott.
[5] Krishna, whose colour, it is to be noted, is blue.
[6] In every sense of the word: _mohaiálamáyá_ is stronger than any
English equivalent.
[7] The Underworld, the home of the snakes.
II
So as Aja stood upon the wall, looking out over the desert, suddenly
all vanished from before his eyes. And he saw before him no city, and
no desert. But he found himself in a dusky wood, thick with tall
_tamála_[1] trees, and lit by a light that was neither that of the sun
nor that of the moon. And all around him huge red poppies waved gently
without a wind, mixed with great moon-lotuses, whose perfume went and
came by turns as it hung on the heavy air. And under the shadow of the
black-leaved trees large bats flew here and there with slow and
noiseless flap, and on the branches monstrous owls with topaz eyes like
wheels of flame sat motionless, as if to watch. And a dead silence
like that of space whence all three worlds have been removed left Aja
nothing else to hear but the beat of his own heart. And the hair rose
up upon his head with sheer amazement. And he said to himself: Ha!
what new wonder is this, and what has become of the city wall? And
where in the world have I got to now, and how? Now let me be very
wary, for the danger is evidently coming near.
And as he stood, grasping his sword, prepared, and looking quickly
right and left, suddenly he saw a thing which rivetted his gaze to it,
as if with an iron nail.
A little way off, among the poppies, was standing up like a lonely
column all that was left of one of the walls of a ruined temple, whose
fallen pillars were lying scattered all around it, half concealed by
creeping leaves. And as he gazed intently at this upright fragment of
a fallen wall, he saw upon it the image of a sculptured woman, which
stood out so distinctly that he could not take his eyes from it. And
after a while, he said to himself: Surely that can be no stone statue,
but a real woman of flesh and blood, actually leaning, who knows why,
against that bit of a broken wall. And he looked and looked, and after
a while, filled with irresistible curiosity, he went nearer, but very
slowly, and as it were on his guard, to see.
So as he gazed, wonder and admiration gradually crept into his soul,
and stole his recollection unaware. And he became wholly intent on the
stone image, and forgetful of his situation. And he ceased to wonder
at finding himself in the wood, so great was his new wonder at the
beauty of the woman on the wall. And he said to himself: Surely he was
a master artist, whoever he was, that made this woman out of stone, if
stone indeed she be. For even now, near as I am, I can hardly believe
she is made of stone.
And the more he looked, the more he marvelled. For she seemed in his
eyes like a frozen mass of lunar camphor, moulded into a female form,
standing cold and pure and still, alone by herself in that strange half
light, that hovered as it were irresolute between the natures of night
and day. And she stood with her right hand on her hip, which jutted
out to receive it like the curve of a breaking wave: and her bare right
breast stood out and shone like a great moonlit sea pearl, while the
other was hiding behind the curling fold of the pale green garment that
ran around her, embracing her with clinging clasp like a winding wisp
of emerald foam fondly wrapping the yielding waist of Wishnu's sea-born
wife. And she was very tall, and shaped like Shrí, and she stood with
her head a little bent, and her sightless eyes fixed as it were on
empty space, just as though she were listening for some expected sound.
And as he continued to gaze at her, a wonder that was almost horror
crept into his mind. For her face was not like that of an image, but
rather resembled a mask, or the face of a very beautiful woman, that
very moment dead. For the colour seemed as it were to have only just
faded from her cheek, and the blood seemed only just before to have
left her pallid lips, and the sight was as it were hanging yet in her
great long open eyes, that were fixed on the distant sky. And he
stood, gazing, as if the very sight of her had made of him another
image like herself.
And then, at last, he stepped forward. And he put out his left hand,
and touched her with his forefinger on the shoulder that was bare.
And instantly, as if his touch had filled her with a flood of life, a
shiver ran like quicksilver over her stony limbs. And as he started
back, to watch, the colour came back into her face, and red blood
rushed into her lips, and deep blue suddenly filled her eyes. And the
tresses of hair around her head turned all of a sudden a glossy black,
that shone with a blue-green lustre, as if reflecting the grassy sheen
of her winding robe. And her bosom lifted slowly, and fell again with
a deep sigh. And all at once, she abruptly altered her position, and
her eyes fell straight on Aja, standing just before her. And she
lifted up, first one eyebrow, and then the other, till they formed a
perfect bow, for they joined each other in the middle. And she uttered
a faint cry, as if in joy, exclaiming: Ha! can it be, and is it thou?
Or am I dreaming still?
[1] A tree with very black bark and white blossoms, dear to erotic
poets, such as, _e.g._, Jayadewa.
III
And Aja stood, staring at her with stony gaze, like a mirror of her own
surprise. And he said to himself: Surely it is not she, but I myself,
that am the dreamer. For here since the sun rose last, I have escaped
the desert, and found this city without a man, and acquired a bride of
peerless beauty: and now here is another, rising as it were from the
dead, and seeming to expect me. And he continued standing silent,
gazing at her, sword in hand. And after a while, she said: What! is my
form, then, so frightful as to rob thee of thy tongue? Or art thou
going to use that sword against me? Speak: but in the meanwhile, let
me see whether I have lost the use of my limbs, as thou hast that of
thy tongue, after so long a sleep. And she leaped from her little
pedestal, and moved a little way here and there, waving her beautiful
arms about: and after a while, she came back, and sat down just before
him, on one of the fallen pillars that were lying about the ground.
And all the while Aja watched her, as if fascinated by a serpent,
saying within himself: She moves like nothing I ever saw, save a
panther or a gliding snake.[1] And then, all at once, she again put up
one eyebrow, and said to him with a smile: Must I, then, actually tell
thee, that I am Natabhrúkutí?[2] Then Aja said: O lady, it is obvious.
For thy bent brow would plant arrows even in the heart of the Great
Ascetic. And she said again: O husband, is this thy welcome, after so
long a separation?
And Aja bounded, as if bitten by a snake. And he exclaimed: Thy
husband! What! Am I then thy husband also? Does thy whole sex want
to get me for a husband? But O thou beauty of bending brows, how can
he be thy husband, that never saw thee in his life before? And only
this morning, I was still wifeless, and a day has not elapsed, since I
became another's husband. And he stopped short, again confounded at
the effect of his own words. For hardly had they passed his lips, when
Natabhrúkutí started up, swelling with rage and convulsed with fury,
with eyes that blazed like fiery stars. And she exclaimed: Never!
never! Never shall she possess thee, nor any other than I myself. And
then, like a flash of lightning, her rage vanished as quickly as it
came. And she looked at him with imploring eyes, and said: Slay me
now, with thy long bright sword, and send me back to that nonentity out
of which thou hast just recalled me: but speak not of another woman in
front of me. Alas! and am I all forgotten? And tears rolled from her
great blue eyes, and fell like suppliants at her feet.
And Aja put up his left hand, and tugged at his hair in the extremity
of his amazement. And he said: O thou strange offended lady, I am
utterly bewildered, and resemble one that has lost his way at midnight
in a wood. And thy anger and thy grief are alike altogether
incomprehensible. How can I possibly have forgotten one, whom as I
just now told thee, I never saw in my life before? Then she said: Nay,
not in this life, but the last. For I was the wife of thy former birth.
Then Aja laughed, and he said: O beauty, who remembers his former
birth? For like every other man, and like my ancestor the sun, I have
risen up into light out of the sea of dark oblivion, into which I must
sink again at last. And then she looked at him with a deep sigh. And
she said: Alas! This is a punishment indeed, and worse by far than all
the rest, if after having endured so long the state of a stone upon a
wall, I am again become a woman, only to find myself repudiated and all
forgotten, by him, on whose account I suffered all. Listen, then, and
I will tell thee the story of thy former birth. It may be that, in the
hearing, some scattered reminiscences will be as it were awakened, to
stir again in the dark lethargy of thy sleeping soul.
[1] It is a wonderful thing to see a cobra move. Nothing can describe
it.
[2] That is, _the Beauty of the arched eyebrows_. (Pronounce _Nat-_ to
rhyme with _but_.)
IV
And then she began to speak. And as she spoke, she leaned forward, as
she sat upon the fallen pillar, and fastened her great eager eyes like
magnets on his own. And as Aja watched them, they played as it were
upon his heart. For their colour wavered and changed and faltered,
shifting ever from hue to hue, turning golden and ruddy amber, and
emerald-green and lotus-blue; and over her eyes her arching brows
lifted and fell and played and flickered, fixing his troubled soul like
nails, and rivetting his attention, till her singing voice sounded in
his head like a distant tune crooned in the ear of a sleepy man. And
she waved slowly her long round arms, all the while she spoke. And she
said: Far away, over the sea, lies thy own forgotten land, and
presently I will tell thee, and even show thee, where it is. And there
it was, in our former birth, that thou and I were boy and girl. But
thou wert the son of a mighty King, and I was only a Brahmani, a poor
man's daughter, and my father was an old ascetic, far below thee in
everything else but caste. And I lived alone with my old father, in
the very heart of a great forest, in a little hut of bark, over which
the _málati_ creeper grew so thick that nothing was visible of that
little hut, except its door. And then one day I was seen by thee,
standing still in that very door, with my pitcher on my head: as thou
wert passing through the wood to hunt upon thy horse. And that moment
was like a sponge, that blotted from the mind of each everything but
the other's image. And I made of thee my deity, and forgot everything
in the three great worlds, for thee alone. And thou, that day, didst
clean forget thy hunting: or rather, the God of Love showed thee game
of another kind,[1] and from pursuing thou didst fall to wooing a
quarry that wished for nothing so much as to be thy prey. And we
married each other that very day, which ah! thou hast all forgotten.
What! dost thou not remember how I used to meet thee every day in the
little hut, when my father was away in the wood engaged in meditation?
What! hast thou really all forgotten how it was thy supreme delight to
bring me garments and costly jewels, which I put on for thy amusement,
thy forest-queen of the little hut? Has thy memory cast away every
vestige of reminiscence of thy old sweet love in the little hut? So
then it happened that on a day we were together, blind and drunk with
each other's presence, shut within the little hut like a pair of bees
in a nectared lotus. And I was standing like an idol, dressed like the
queen of a _chakrawarti_,[2] loaded with gold on wrists and feet, with
great pearls wound about my neck; and thou wert contemplating me, thy
creature,[3] with intoxication, and hard indeed it was to tell which of
us two was the idol, and which was the devotee. And as we woke up from
a kiss that lasted like infinity, lo! my father stood before us. And
he said slowly: Abandoned daughter, that hast forgot thy duty in thy
passion for this King's son, become what thou hast represented, an
idol[4] of stone on the wall of a ruined temple far away: and thou, her
guilty lover, fall again into another birth, and be separated from thy
guilty love. Then being besought by us, to fix some period to the
curse, he said again: When ye two shall meet again, and thy husband in
his curiosity shall touch thee with his finger, she shall regain her
woman's state, and be as she was before. And now all this has come
about, exactly as he said. And I have found thee once again, only to
find alas! alas! that thou hast left thy heart behind thee in that old
delicious birth.
[1] In Sanskrit, hunting and wooing can be mixed up together by plays
on words.
[2] An emperor. Hindoo idols are dressed and undressed, like dolls, by
their officiating priests.
[3] She means, he was her Creator.
[4] The Hindoos have no word, because they have not the idea, of an
_idol_. They call it a _god_ or an _image_. Our word _idol_ implies
the antagonism to paganism involved in Christianity, and no two books
are more alike than S. Augustine's _City of God_ and Ward's _Hindoo
Mythology_.
V