[A DarkChamber. QUEEN SUDARSHANA. Her Maid of Honour,
SURANGAMA]
SUDARSHANA. Light, light! Where is light? Will the lamp never
be lighted in this chamber?
SURANGAMA. My Queen, all your other rooms are lighted--will you
never long to escape from the light into a dark room like this?
SUDARSHANA. But why should this room be kept dark?
SURANGAMA. Because otherwise you would know neither light nor
darkness.
SUDARSHANA. Living in this dark room you have grown to speak
darkly and strangely--I cannot understand you, Surangama. But
tell me, in what part of the palace is this chamber situated? I
cannot make out either the entrance or the way out of this room.
SURANGAMA. This room is placed deep down, in the very heart of
the earth. The King has built this room specially for your sake.
SUDARSHANA. Why, he has no dearth of rooms--why need he have
made this chamber of darkness specially for me?
SURANGAMA. You can meet others in the lighted rooms: but only in
this dark room can you meet your lord.
SUDARSHANA. No, no--I cannot live without light--I am restless
in this stifling dark. Surangama, if you can bring a light into
this room, I shall give you this necklace of mine.
SURANGAMA. It is not in my power, O Queen. How can I bring
light to a place which he would have kept always dark!
SUDARSHANA. Strange devotion! And yet, is it not true that the
King punished your father?
SURANGAMA. Yes, that is true. My father used to gamble. All
the young men of the country used to gather at my father's
house-and they used to drink and gamble.
SUDARSHANA. And when the King sent away your father in exile,
did it not make you feel bitterly oppressed?
SURANGAMA. Oh, it made me quite furious. I was on the road to
ruin and destruction: when that path was closed for me, I seemed
left without any support, without any succour or shelter. I
raged and raved like a wild beast in a cage--how I wanted to tear
every one to pieces in my powerless anger!
SUDARSHANA. But how did you get this devotion towards that same
King?
SURANGAMA . How can I tell? Perhaps I could rely and depend on
him because he was so hard, so pitiless!
SUDARSHANA. When did this change of feeling take place?
SURANGAMA. I could not tell you--I do not know that myself. A
day came when all the rebel in me knew itself beaten, and then my
whole nature bowed down in humble resignation on the dust of the
earth. And then I saw ... I saw that he was as matchless in
beauty as in terror. Oh. I was saved, I was rescued.
SUDARSHANA. Tell me, Surangama, I implore you, won't you tell me
what is the King like to look at? I have not seen him yet for a
single day. He comes to me in darkness, and leaves me in this
dark room again. How many people have I not asked--but they all
return vague and dark answers--it seems to me that they all keep
back something.
SURANGAMA. To tell you the truth, Queen, I could not say well
what he is like. No--he is not what men call handsome.
SUDARSHANA. You don't say so? Not handsome!
SURANGAMA. No, my Queen, he is not handsome. To call him
beautiful would be to say far too little about him.
SUDARSHANA. All your words are like that--dark, strange, and
vague. I cannot understand what you mean.
SURANGAMA. No, I will not call him handsome. And it is because
he is not beautiful that he is so wonderful, so superb, so
miraculous!
SUDARSHANA. I do not quite understand you--though I like to hear
you talk about him. But I must see him at any cost. I do not
even remember the day when I was married to him. I have heard
mother say that a wise man came before my marriage and said, "He
who will wed your daughter is without a second on this earth."
How often have I asked her to describe his appearance to me, but
she only answers vaguely, and says she cannot say--she saw him
through a veil, faintly and obscurely. But if he is the best
among men, how can I sit still without seeing him?
SURANGAMA. Do you not feel a faint breeze blowing?
SUDARSHANA. A breeze? Where?
SURANGAMA. Do you not smell a soft perfume?
SUDARSHANA. No, I don't.
SURANGAMA. The large door has opened ... he is coming; my King
is coming in.
SUDARSHANA. How can you perceive when he comes?
SURANGAMA. I cannot say: I seem to hear his footsteps in my own
heart. Being his servant of this dark chamber, I have developed
a sense--I can know and feel without seeing.
SUDARSHANA. Would that I had this sense too, Surangama!
SURANGAMA. You will have it, O Queen ... this sense will awaken
in you one day. Your longing to have a sight of him makes you
restless, and therefore all your mind is strained and warped in
that direction. When you are past this state of feverish
restlessness, everything will become quite easy.
SUDARSHANA. How is it that it is easy to you, who are a servant,
and so difficult to me, the Queen?
SURANGAMA. It is because I am a mere servant that no difficulty
baulks me. On the first day, when he left this room to my care,
saying, "Surangama, you will always keep this chamber ready for
me: this is all your task," then I did not say, even in thought,
"Oh, give me the work of those who keep the other rooms lighted."
No, but as soon as I bent all my mind to my task, a power woke
and grew within me, and mastered every part of me unopposed....
Oh, there he comes! ... he is standing outside, before the
door. Lord! O King!
SONG outside.
/*
Open your door. I am waiting.
The ferry of the light from the dawn to the dark is done for
the day,
The evening star is up.
Have you gathered your flowers, braided your hair,
And donned your white robe for the night?
The cattle have come to their folds and birds to their nests.
The cross paths that run to all quarters have merged into one
in the dark.
Open your door. I am waiting.
*/
SURANGAMA. O King, who can keep thy own doors shut against thee?
They are not locked or bolted--they will swing wide open if you
only touch them with thy fingers. Wilt thou not even touch them?
Wilt thou not enter unless I go and open the doors?