Begunica

Dodji, prolece,
smeh ljubavnice zemljin,
neka zakuca srece suma,
nestrpljivo da se izrazi!
Dodji u naletima nemira usred lisca
i cveca koje hita da se razvije.
Kao sjajna pobuna, baci se u noc,
u tamu vode, iznad zemlje,
oglasi slobodu zarobljnih klica!
Kao smeh munje, urlik oluje,
odjekni u bucnom gradu,
oslobodi rec ugusenu,
napor koji je pao u letargiju,
osnazi nasu borbu malaksalu,
budi pobednik smrti!

Secam se toga dana.
Pljusak je besneo, pa se smirio,
i ponovo poceo, cudljiv, s duvanjem vetra.
Uzeh svoju spravu za sviranje.
Nemarno sam dodirivao zice;
nehotice muzika je pratila
ritam naleta vetra i kise.
Ona je bila krisom ostavila svoj posao,
zastala kod mojih vrata,
pobegla, dvoumeci se.
Vratila se, ostala trenutak naslonjena na zid;
najzad je tiho usla u sobu i sela.
Pognute glave hitro okrece iglu u tisini.
Uskoro zaostaje, i ide da pogleda kroz prozor
drvored taman od kise.
Jedan cas kisnog popodneva,
punog senki, pesme i tisine.
Nista drugo.

Te noci ispevao sam
jednu pesmu,
ali ti nisi bila tu.
Pronasao sam reci
koje sam uzalud trazio vazdan.
Jest, iz nedara nocne tisine
one su se slile u svirku,
dok su se zvezde palile
jedna za drugom
Ali ti nisi bila tu.
Hteo sam jutros
da ti pevam pesmu svoju:
ali iako nisam zaboravio melodiju,
buntovne reci mi izmicu
sada kraj si kad mene.

Zadrhtacu bez sumnje
ako se ikad budemo sreli
u drugome zivotu,
u svetlosti udaljenog sveta.
Zaustavljajuci se,
prepoznacu tvoje oci,
tamne kao jutarnje zvezde,
i znacu da su pripadale
zaboravljenom sumraku
predjasnjeg zivota.
Reci cu:
car tvoj lica nije samo u njemu,
u nju se utkala zarka svetlost
moga pogleda pri susretu
koji se ne pamti,
i moja ljubav joj je dala
tajnu koja se izgubila.

Uvecala si me
svojom ljubavlju,
mene koji sam samo
jedan covek izmedju drugih,
koji plovi obicnim tokom,
pokretan voljom
promenljive milosti sveta.
Dala si mi mesto
tamo gde pesnici svih vremena
donose svoje darove,
gde ljubavnici u ime vecnog
pozdravljaju jedan drugoga kroz stoleca.
Ljudi zurno prolaze ispred mene na trgu -
ne opazajuci kako je moje telo postalo
dragoceno od tvog milovanja,
ne znajuci da u sebi nosimtvoj poljubac
kao sto sunce nosi u svojoj lopti
vatru bozanskog dodira,
kojom sija vecito.

Gazeci travu na stazi,zacuh:
''Poznajes li me?''
Osvrnuh se, pogledah je i rekoh:
''Ne mogu vezati ni jedno ime za tvoje lice''
Ona odgovori:
''Ja sam prva velika tuga tvoje mladosti''.
Njene oci su blistale kao rosno jutro.
Pocutah trenutak, a zatim zapitah:
''Jesi li iscrpla sav teret suza?''
Osmehnu se i ne odgovori.
Razumeh da je njen plac
imao vremena da nauci govor osmeha.
''Nekada'',
prosapta ona,
''govorio si da ces uvek voleti svoju tugu''.
Zbunjen, rekoh:
''Istina je, ali prosle su godine, i dosao je zaborav''.
I uzimajuci njenu ruku u svoju,
dodadoh:
'' I ti si se promenila.
Nekadasnji bol postao je vedrina''.

Srecan sam sto me ne gledas
vise sazaljivo.
Zlokobna car noci
i odjek mojih reci
koje kazuju zbogom,
prestrasene od ocajnog naglaska,
dovele su me do ivice placa.
Ali dan ce se roditi,
moje srce ce biti opet tvrdo,
i nece biti vise vremena za suze.
Ko kaze da je zaborav nemoguc?
Samilosna smrt buja
u samom srcu zivota,
obuzdavajuci njegovu ludu
zelju za trajanjem.
Burno more na kraju otpocine
u svojoj pokretnoj kolevci;
sumski pozar zaspi
u postelji od pepela.
Ti i ja se rastajemo,
i raskid ce pokriti
ziva trava i cvece nasmejano
na suncu.

Gradinar

Ako hoces da budes jednom vredna
i da napunis svoj krcag, -
o dodji, dodji na moje jezero.
Voda ce se pripiti uz tvoje noge
i izbrbljati svoju tajnu.
Po pesku je pala svezina kise koja ide,
oblaci se nagli pod modrim linijama drveta
kao bujna kosa nad tvojim obrvama.
Ritam tvojih stopa, koji dobro poznajem,
udara me u srce.
O dodji, dodji na moje jezero,
ako moras da napunis svoj krcag.
Ako hoces besposlena da bezbrizno sedis,
dok ti voda nosi krcag, -
o dodji, dodji na moje jezero.
Padina se zeleni i divljega je cveca
bezbrojno.
Misli ce tvoje izletati iz tvojih tamnih ociju
kao ptice iz svojih gnezda.
Preves ce ti spasi na stopala.
Dodji, o dodji na moje jezero,
ako hoces da sedis besposlena.
Ako si sita igre pa hoces da zagnjuris u vodu, -
o dodji, dodji na moje jezero.
Ostavi na obali plavi ogrtac,
plava ce te voda ogrnuti i pokriti.
Talasi ce se prpinjati da ti ljube vrat,
da ti na uho sapcucu.
Dodji, o dodji na moje jezero,
ako hoces da se zagnjuris u vodu.
Ako moras u bezumlju da skaces u svoju smrt, -
dodji, o dodji na moje jezero.
Jezero je moje sveze i bezdano.
Crno kao san bez snova.
U dubinama njegovim isto su dani i noci,
a pesma je cutanje.
Dodji, o dodji na moje jezero,
ako hoces da utones u svoju smrt.

Zuta ptica peva na njenim drvetima
i srce moje igra od radosti.
Oboje zivimo u istome selu,
a to je cela nasa iskra radosti.
Njena dvaljubljena laneta
dolaze u hlad naseg vrta da pasu.
Kada zalutaju u nase jecmiste,
ja ih uzimam u narucije svoje.
Nase selo se zove Kandzana,
a nasu reku zovu Andzana.
Moje ime zna celo selo,
a njeno je Randzana.
Nas razdvaja samo jedno polje.
Pcele, koje imaju kosnice u nasem zabranu,
traze meda u njenom.
Cvece baceno sa njenog ukotvista
snosi reka u nasa kupatilista.
Kotarice sa suvim cvetovima kuzma
donose sa njihovih polja na nas trg.
Nase selo se zove Kandzana,
a nasu reku zovu Andzana.
Moje ime zna celo selo,
a njeno je Randzana.
Ulica koja zavija njenoj kuci
mirise u prolece od mangovog cveta.
Kada njen lan szri za zetvu,
cveta konoplja na nasim poljima.
Zvezde koje se osmejkuju na njenu kolibu
salju isto tako i nama svoj drhtavi pogled
Kisa koja preplavljuje njenu catrnju
veseli nasu kadamovu goru.
Nase selo se zove Kandzana,
a nasu reku zovu Andzana.
Moje ime zna celo selo,
a njeno je Randzana.

Iz dana u dan on dolazi i odlazi.
Idi, draga, i daj mu jedan cvet iz moje kose.
Ako te upita ko te je poslao, preklinjem te,
ne kazi mu ime moje -
jer on samo dolazi i odlazi.
Eno gde sedi pod drvetom u prasini.
Napravi mu tamo, draga,
sediste od cveca i lisca.
Oci su mu tuzne i unose tugu u srce moje.
Ne kaze sta misli; samo dolazi i odlazi.

Tuzne su tvoje pronikljive oci.
Ispituju dusu moju kao mesec
kada bi hteo da pronikne more.
Razgolitio sam svoj zivot
pred ocima tvojim od kraja do kraja,
i nista nisam sakrio ni zadrzao.
Zato me ne poznajes.
Da je dragi kamen, mogao bih ga razbiti
u stotine zrnaca i nanizati ogrlicu tebi oko vrata.
Da je cvet, svez i malen i sladak,
otkino bih ga sa peteljke i udenuo tebi u kosu.
Ali to je srce moje, dragana.
Gde su obale njegove, a gde njegovo dno?
Ne poznajes medje toga kraljevstva
i ipak si njegova kraljica.
Da je samo trenutak radosti,
on bi procvetao u laki osmejak,
i ti bi ga mogla videti i citati u trenutku.
Da je samo bol, on bi se rastopio
u sjajne suze, u kojima bi se ogledala
njegova najdublja tajna,
tajna bez reci.
Ali to je ljubav, dragana moja.
Njena je radost i bol bez granica,
beskrajne su njene zelje
i njeno bogatstvo.
Ona ti je bliska kao zivot,
pa ipak je na mozes potpuno poznati.

Ti si vecernji oblak koji bludi
nebom mojih snova.
Ceznjama ljubavi svoje
dajem ti boju i oblik.
Ti si moja, moja, ti koja obitavas
u mojim beskonacnim snovima!
Tvoja su stopala ruzicasto rumena
od ognja mog ceznjivig srca,
ti koja znjes moje vecernje pesme!
Tvoje su usne gorko-slatke od
ukusa vina mojih patnji.
Ti si moja, moja, ti koja obitavas
u mojim usamljenim snovima!
Senkom svoje strasti
zarcnio sam oci tvoje,
stalna gosco u dubinama moga pogleda.
Vezao sam te, moja, ti koja obitavas
u mojim besmrtnim snovima!

Moje srce, ptica divljine,
naslo je svoje nebo
u tvojim ocima.
One su kolevka jutra,
one su carstvo zvezda.
Moje su pesme potonula
u dubine njihove.
Pusti me samo da se vinem
u to nebo,
u njegovo osamno bespuce.
Pusti me samo da delim
njegove oblake,
da sirim krila u sjaju
njegovog sunca.

Ceznem da ti kazem najdublje reci
koje ti imam reci; ali se ne usudjujem,
strahujuci da bi mi se mogla nasmejati.
Zato se smejem sam sebi i odajem
tajnu svoju sali.
Olako uzimam bol svoj,
strahujuci da bi ti to mogla uciniti.
Ceznam da ti kazem najvernije reci
koje ti imam reci; ali se ne usudjujem,
strahujuci da bi mogla posumnjati u njih.
Zato ih oblacim u neistinu,
i govorim suprotno onome sto mislim.
Ostavljam bol svoj da izgleda glup,
strahujuci da bi ti to mogla uciniti.
Ceznem da upotrebim najdragocenije reci
sto imam za te; ali se ne usudjujem,
strahujuci da mi se nece vratiti istom merom.
Zato dajem ruzna imena i hvalim se svojom surovoscu.
Zadajem ti bol, beojeci se
da neces nikada saznati sta je bol.
Ceznem da sedim mirno pored tebe;
ali se ne usudjujem; jer bi mi inace
srce iskocilo na usta.
Zato brbljam i caskam olako,
i zatrpavam svoje srce recima.
Grubo uzimam svoj bol, strahujuci
da bi ti to mogla uciniti.
Ceznem da te ostavim zauvek;
ali se ne usudjujem, strahujuci da bi
mogla otkriti moj kukavicluk.
Zato ponosito dizem glavu
i dolazim veseo u tvoje drustvo.
Neprekidne strele iz tvojih ociju
cine da je bol vecito svez.

Bejase popodne kada ti otide.
Sunce je przilo na nebu.
Zavrsila sam rad i sedela na cardaku
kada ti otide.
Cutljivi povetarci doletahu leprsajuci
kroz mirise mnogih dalekih polja.
Golubovi neumorno gukahu u hladu,
i jedna pcela, koja u moju sobu zaluta,
zujase mi novosti mnogih dalekih polja.
Selo je spavalo u podnevnoj zezi.
Drum je lezao pust.
Iznenada se podize zubor
u liscu i opet izumre.
Ja sam zurila u nebo i u plavetnilo
utkivala slova imana koje sam nekada znala,
dok je selo spavalo u podnevnoj zezi.
Zaboravih da ispletem kosu svoju.
nezni vetric igrase se njom,
na mojim obrazima.
Reka je bez nabora klizila
pod hladovitom obalom.
Leni, beli oblaci stajahu nepomicno.
Zaboravih da ispletem svoju kosu.

Bejase podne kada ti otide.
Prasina je na drumu gorela,
polja skapavala zedna.
Golubovi gugukahu u gustome liscu.
Sedela sam sama na cardaku kada ti otide.


Ona stanovase kod humova na kraju kukuruznog polja,
u blizini izvora, koji tece nasmejanim potocima
kroz svecane senke starih drevta.
Zene dolazahu tu da napune svoje krcage,
a putnici da se odmore i procaskaju.
Ona je tu svakoga dana radila i snevala
pracena sumom potoka.
Jedne veceri spusti se stranac s planine pokrivene oblacima;
kovrdzave vitice behu mu zamrsene kao sanjive zmije.
Mi zapitasmo zacudjeni: ''Ko si?'' Ali on ne odgovori,
sede pored brbljiva potoka i gledase nemo
ka kolibi u kojoj je obitavala ona. Srca nam drhtahu od straha
i se vratismo doma kada pade noc.
Ujutru, kada dodjose zene na izvor u hladu deodara,
nadjose otvorena vrata na njenoj kolibi,
i njen glas bese otisaom a gde bejase njeno nasmejano lice?
Na zemlji je lezao prazan krcag, a kandilo u uglu dogorevalo je.
Niko nije znao kuda je ona pobegla pre zore -
a ni stranca ne bese nigde.
U mesecu maju sunce je peklo i sneg se istopi,
a mi sedesmo kraj izvora i plakasmo.
U mislima svojim cudismo se: ''Ima li tamo,
kamo otide, izvora, gde bi mogla napuniti
svoj krcag u ovom vrelim zednim danima?''
I mi se zapitasmo u strahu: ''Ima li zemlje
za ovim humovima gde boravimo?''
Bila je letnja noc; sa juga je duvao lahor,
a ja sam sedeo u njenoj napustenoj sobi,
gde je zizak stajao jos uvek neupaljen.
Kada iznenada isceznuse
humovi pred mojim ocima,
kao da je neko otklonio zavese.
''Ah, to je ona, sto dolazi.
Kako ti je, dete moje? Jesli i srecna?
Ali gde ces prenociti pod otvorenim nebom?
Avaj, tu nema naseg izvora da utolis zedj svoju''.
''Ovde je isto nebo'', rece ona,
''samo oslobodjeno svih humova
koji ga skovahu,- to je isti potok
koji je postao nabujala reka, -
ista zemlja prosirena u ravan''.
''Sve je tu'', uzdahnuh ja, ''samo nema nas''.
Ona se tuzno osmehnui rece:
''Vi ste u mom srcu''.
ja se probudih i cuh zuborenje reke
i sustanje deodara u noci.

Pevaceve zrtve

U nedeljnom hladu kisnoga jula
koracas tihim korkom, nem kao noc,
i mimoilazis strazu.
Danas je jutro zatvorilo oci, i ne haje
za uzurbanu viku glsne kosave;
preko uvek budnog plavog neba
prevucen je gust veo.
U sumama su umakle pesme,
a na svakoj kuci vrata su zatvorena.
Ti si usamljeni putnik pustim ulicama.
O moj jedini prijatelju, namiliji,
na kuci je mojoj kapija otvorena -
ne mimoidji je kao san.

Prijatelju, jesi li napolju u burnoj noci
na svom ljubavnom putu?
Nebo stenje kao neko koji ocajava.
Nocas mi ne dolazi san.
Neprestano otvaram kapiju i
gledam u mrak, prijatelju moj!
Ne mogu nista da poznam pred sobom;
pitam se, gde je put tvoj?
Na kojoj tamnoj obali crne reke,
na kojoj dalekoj ivici hucne sume,
kroz koji varljivi ponor senke trzis
svoj put k meni, moj prijatelju?

Svetlost! O, gde je svetlost?
Uzezi je na razbuktaloj vatri ceznje!
Ovde je zizak, ali, avaj, plamen
ne treperi - jeli to sudba tvoja,
srece moje! Bolja bi ti bila smrt.
Beda kuca na vrata, njen glas objavljuje:
tvoj gospod bdi,
zove te kroz nocnu tamu na sastanak.
Nebo pokrivaju oblaci;
kisa je beskrajna.
ne znam sta se u meni budi,
ne poznajem smisao toga.
Jedna munja navlaci mi preko oka
jos deblju tamu; moje srce pipa
i tri put na koji me dozivaju
glasovi noci.
Svetlost!
O, gde je svetlost?
Uzezi je na razbuktaloj vatri ceznje!
Grmi, huji vetar s piskom krz planinu.
Crna je noc, crna kao kamen.
Ne daj da casovi prodju u mraku!
Uzezi zizak ljubavi svojim zivotom!

U prvom osvitu cuh sapat;
trebalo je da odjedrimo ti i ja,
i niko drugi na svetu nije smeo znati
o tom putovanju nasem bez kraja i cilja.
Na tom beskrajnom okeanu,
pored tvog pazljivog osmeha,
pesme su moje nabujale u melodije
slobodne kao vali,
slobodne od svih stega reci.
Zar jos nije vreme? Zar jos ima posla?
Gle, vece se naglo nad obalom,
i pri svetlosti koja izdise ptice
se morske vracaju gnezdama
svojim u letu.
Ko zna kada ce se odresiti lanac
i kada ce se cun,
kao poslednji odsev zalazeceg sunca,
izgubiti u noci?

O svetlosti, svetlosti moja,
koja celivas oci i stisavas srca!
Ah, dragane, svetlost igra
u sedistu mog zivota;
svetlost dotice, dragane,
strune ljubavi moje;
nebo se otvara, vetar duva pomamno,
kikot juri zemljom.
Leptiri sire krila u moru svetlosti;
kruna svetlostnih vala
treperi od ljiljana i jasmina.
Dragane, svetlost preliva zlatom
oblake i rasipa drago kamenje.
Sa lista na list, dragane,
skakuce veselje i bezmerna radost.
Nebeska reka izasla je iz korita,
potop radosti se razlio.

San sto pociva na detinjim ocima -
ko zna od kuda dolazi?
Govore da obitava u zavicaju vila,
gde u sumskom hladu, koji slabo
osvetljuju svici, vise dva nezna
carobna pupoljka.
Otud on ide da celiva detinje oci.
Osmeh sto u snu prelece preko detinjih usana -
ko zna gde je rodjen?
Govore da jedne jeseni bled zrak
mladog meseca pogodio rub nekoga
oblaka koji je nestajao - tu, u snu
jednog rosnog jutra rodjen u osmeh
koji prelece u snu preko detinjih usana.
Slatka svezina sto nezno obavija
detinje udove - ko zna
gde se tako dugo skrivala?
Da, jos dok je majka bila nevesta,
prozela je u nemoj neznoj tajni
ljubavi srce njeno - slatka svezina
sto nezno obavija detinje udove.

Bol rastanaka to je sto se siri svetom,
sto radja nebrojene oblike na beskrajnom nebu.
Bol rastanaka to je sto nemo nocu
ukoceno gleda od zvezde do zvezde,
i postaje pesma u zuboru lisca sumornog
kisnog jula.
Bol rastanaka to je sto se preliva,
sto se udubljuje u ljubav i zudnju,
u patnju i radost ljudkoga doma,
sto se uvek topi i tece pesmom
kroz moje pesnicko srce.

Iz raznih zbirki

Zeno, u tvome smehu je
muzika izvora moga zivota.

To je jos samo dete, gospodaru.
Ona trci oko tvoga dvora,
zbavalja se, pokusava da
i od tebe napravi igracku.
Ne pazi na neuredjenu kosu
ni na nemarnu odecu koju vuce po prasini.
Zaspi i ne odgovori ti kad joj govoris -
cvet koji joj dajes ujutru,
iz njenih ruku pada u prasinu.
Kad se podigne oluja i kad se
nebo smraci, ona vise ne spava;
ostavljajuci lutke rasturene po tlu,
ona se prijubljuje tebi, iz straha.
Boji se da te dobro ne sluzi.
Ali ti posmatras njenu igru smeseci se.
Ti je ne poznajes.
Dete koje sedi u prasini tvoja je zena;
njene igre ce se smiriti,
postace ozbiljnije,
pretvorice se u ljubav.

Napusteni zizak ceka u drugom danu
poljubac plamena koji dovodi noc.

Dan je mracan od kise.
Besne munje cepaju oblake
u dronjke, i suma je kao zatvoreni lav
koji ocajno trese grivom.
U takav dan, usred razularenih vetrova,
daj mi da se smirim
u tvome prisustvu.
Jer je zalosno nebo ispunilo senkom
moju samocu, i pod njim se tvoj
bozanski dodir utiskuje u moje srce.

Na ovome svetu zivimo
dokle ga volimo.

                              To

              Mrs. William Vaughn Moody



                            Preface

This lyrical drama was written about twenty-five years ago. It is based on the following story from the Mahabharata.
In the course of his wanderings, in fulfilment of a vow of penance, Arjuna came to Manipur.  There he saw Chitrangada, the beautiful daughter of Chitravahana, the king of the country. Smitten with her charms, he asked the king for the hand of his daughter in marriage. Chitravahana asked him who he was, and learning that he was Arjuna the Pandara, told him that Prabhanjana, one of his ancestors in the kingly line of Manipur, had long been childless.  In order to obtain an heir, he performed severe penances.  Pleased with these austerities, the god Shiva gave him this boon, that he and his successors should each have one child.  It so happened that the promised child had invariably been a son.  He, Chitravahana, was the first to have
only a daughter Chitrangada to perpetuate the race.  He had, therefore, always treated her as a son and had made her his heir.

Continuing, the king said: "The one son that will be born to her must be the perpetuator of my race.That son will be the price that I shall demand for this marriage.You can take her, if you like, on this condition."

Arjuna promised and took Chitrangada to wife, and lived in her father's capital for three years.When a son was born to them,he embraced her with affection, and taking leave of her and her father, set out again on his travels.

The caracters

GODS:
   MADANA (Eros).
   VASANTA (Lycoris).

MORTALS:
   CHITRA, daughter of the King of Manipur.
   ARJUNA, a prince of the house of the Kurus.  He is of the
Kshatriya or "warrior caste," and during the action is living as
a Hermit retired in the forest.

VILLAGERS from an outlying district of Manipur.

NOTE.--The dramatic poem "Chitra" has been performed in India
without scenery--the actors being surrounded by the audience.
Proposals for its production here having been made to him, he
went through this translation and provided stage directions, but
wished these omitted if it were printed as a book.

Scene I


                          Chitra

ART thou the god with the five darts, the Lord of Love?


                          Madana

I am he who was the first born in the heart of the Creator.  I
bind in bonds of pain and bliss the lives of men and women!


                          Chitra

I know, I know what that pain is and those bonds.--And who art
thou, my lord?


                         Vasanta

I am his friend--Vasanta--the King of the Seasons.  Death and
decrepitude would wear the world to the bone but that I follow
them and constantly attack them.  I am Eternal Youth.


                          Chitra

I bow to thee, Lord Vasanta.


                          Madana

But what stern vow is thine, fair stranger?  Why dost thou wither
thy fresh youth with penance and mortification?  Such a sacrifice
is not fit for the worship of love.  Who art thou and what is thy
prayer?


                          Chitra

I am Chitra, the daughter of the kingly house of Manipur.  With
godlike grace Lord Shiva promised to my royal grandsire an
unbroken line of male descent.  Nevertheless, the divine word
proved powerless to change the spark of life in my mother's womb
--so invincible was my nature, woman though I be.


                          Madana

I know, that is why thy father brings thee up as his son.  He has
taught thee the use of the bow and all the duties of a king.


                          Chitra

Yes, that is why I am dressed in man's attire and have left the
seclusion of a woman's chamber.  I know no feminine wiles for
winning hearts.  My hands are strong to bend the bow, but I have
never learnt Cupid's archery, the play of eyes.


                          Madana

That requires no schooling, fair one.  The eye does its work
untaught, and he knows how well, who is struck in the heart.


                          Chitra

One day in search of game I roved alone to the forest on the bank
of the Purna river.  Tying my horse to a tree trunk I entered a
dense thicket on the track of a deer.  I found a narrow sinuous
path meandering through the dusk of the entangled boughs, the
foliage vibrated with the chirping of crickets, when of a sudden
I came upon a man lying on a bed of dried leaves, across my path.
I asked him haughtily to move aside, but he heeded not.  Then
with the sharp end of my bow I pricked him in contempt.
Instantly he leapt up with straight, tall limbs, like a sudden
tongue of fire from a heap of ashes.  An amused smile flickered
round the corners of his mouth, perhaps at the sight of my boyish
countenance.  Then for the first time in my life I felt myself a
woman, and knew that a man was before me.


                          Madana

At the auspicious hour I teach the man and the woman this supreme
lesson to know themselves.  What happened after that?


                          Chitra

With fear and wonder I asked him "Who are you?" "I am Arjuna," he
said, "of the great Kuru clan."  I stood petrified like a statue,
and forgot to do him obeisance.  Was this indeed Arjuna, the one
great idol of my dreams!  Yes, I had long ago heard how he had
vowed a twelve-years' celibacy.  Many a day my young ambition had
spurred me on to break my lance with him, to challenge him in
disguise to single combat, and prove my skill in arms against
him.  Ah, foolish heart, whither fled thy presumption?  Could I
but exchange my youth with all its aspirations for the clod of
earth under his feet, I should deem it a most precious grace.  I
know not in what whirlpool of thought I was lost, when suddenly I
saw him vanish through the trees.  O foolish woman, neither didst
thou greet him, nor speak a word, nor beg forgiveness, but
stoodest like a barbarian boor while he contemptuously walked
away! . . . Next morning I laid aside my man's clothing.  I
donned bracelets, anklets, waist-chain, and a gown of purple red
silk. The unaccustomed dress clung about my shrinking shame; but
I hastened on my quest, and found Arjuna in the forest temple of
Shiva.


                          Madana

Tell me the story to the end.  I am the heart-born god, and I
understand the mystery of these impulses.


                          Chitra

Only vaguely can I remember what things I said, and what answer I
got.  Do not ask me to tell you all.  Shame fell on me like a
thunderbolt, yet could not break me to pieces, so utterly hard,
so like a man am I.  His last words as I walked home pricked my
ears like red hot needles.  "I have taken the vow of celibacy.  I
am not fit to be thy husband!"  Oh, the vow of a man!  Surely
thou knowest, thou god of love, that unnumbered saints and sages
have surrendered the merits of their life-long penance at the
feet of a woman.  I broke my bow in two and burnt my arrows in
the fire. I hated my strong, lithe arm, scored by drawing the
bowstring.  O Love, god Love, thou hast laid low in the dust the
vain pride of my manlike strength; and all my man's training lies
crushed under thy feet.  Now teach me thy lessons; give me the
power of the weak and the weapon of the unarmed hand.


                          Madana

I will be thy friend.  I will bring the world-conquering Arjuna a
captive before thee, to accept his rebellion's sentence at thy
hand.


                          Chitra

Had I but the time needed, I could win his heart by slow degrees,
and ask no help of the gods.  I would stand by his side as a
comrade, drive the fierce horses of his war-chariot, attend him
in the pleasures of the chase, keep guard at night at the
entrance of his tent, and help him in all the great duties of a
Kshatriya, rescuing the weak, and meting out justice where it is
due.  Surely at last the day would have come for him to look at
me and wonder, "What boy is this?  Has one of my slaves in a
former life followed me like my good deeds into this?"  I am not
the woman who nourishes her despair in lonely silence, feeding it
with nightly tears and covering it with the daily patient smile,
a widow from her birth.  The flower of my desire shall never drop
into the dust before it has ripened to fruit.  But it is the
labour of a life time to make one's true self known and honoured.
Therefore I have come to thy door, thou world-vanquishing Love,
and thou, Vasanta, youthful Lord of the Seasons, take from
my young body this primal injustice, an unattractive plainness.
For a single day make me superbly beautiful, even as beautiful as
was the sudden blooming of love in my heart.  Give me but one
brief day of perfect beauty, and I will answer for the days that
follow.


                          Madana

Lady, I grant thy prayer.


                         Vasanta

Not for the short span of a day, but for one whole year the charm
of spring blossoms shall nestle round thy limbs.

Scene II

                          Arjuna

WAS I dreaming or was what I saw by the lake truly there?
Sitting on the mossy turf, I mused over bygone years in the
sloping shadows of the evening, when slowly there came out from
the folding darkness of foliage an apparition of beauty in the
perfect form of a woman, and stood on a white slab of stone at
the water's brink.  It seemed that the heart of the earth must
heave in joy under her bare white feet.  Methought the vague
veilings of her body should melt in ecstasy into air as the
golden mist of dawn melts from off the snowy peak of the eastern
hill.  She bowed herself above the shining mirror of the lake and
saw the reflection of her face.  She started up in awe and stood
still; then smiled, and with a careless sweep of her left arm
unloosed her hair and let it trail on the earth at her feet.  She
bared her bosom and looked at her arms, so flawlessly modelled,
and instinct with an exquisite caress.  Bending her head she
saw the sweet blossoming of her youth and the tender bloom and
blush of her skin.  She beamed with a glad surprise.  So, if the
white lotus bud on opening her eyes in the morning were to arch
her neck and see her shadow in the water, would she wonder at
herself the livelong day.  But a moment after the smile passed
from her face and a shade of sadness crept into her eyes.  She
bound up her tresses, drew her veil over her arms, and sighing
slowly, walked away like a beauteous evening fading into the
night.  To me the supreme fulfilment of desire seemed to have
been revealed in a flash and then to have vanished. . . . But who
is it that pushes the door?


         Enter CHITRA, dressed as a woman.

Ah!  it is she.  Quiet, my heart! . . . Fear me not, lady!  I am
a Kshatriya.


                          Chitra

Honoured sir, you are my guest.  I live in this temple.  I know
not in what way I can show you hospitality.


                          Arjuna

Fair lady, the very sight of you is indeed the highest
hospitality.  If you will not take it amiss I would ask you a
question.


                          Chitra

You have permission.


                          Arjuna

What stern vow keeps you immured in this solitary temple,
depriving all mortals of a vision of so much loveliness?


                          Chitra

I harbour a secret desire in my heart, for the fulfilment of
which I offer daily prayers to Lord Shiva.


                          Arjuna

Alas, what can you desire, you who are the desire of the whole
world!  From the easternmost hill on whose summit the morning sun
first prints his fiery foot to the end of the sunset land have I
travelled.  I have seen whatever is most precious, beautiful and
great on the earth.  My knowledge shall be yours, only say for
what or for whom you seek.


                          Chitra

He whom I seek is known to all.

                          Arjuna

Indeed!  Who may this favourite of the gods be, whose fame has
captured your heart?

                          Chitra

Sprung from the highest of all royal houses, the greatest of all
heroes is he.


                          Arjuna

Lady, offer not such wealth of beauty as is yours on the altar of
false reputation.  Spurious fame spreads from tongue to tongue
like the fog of the early dawn before the sun rises.  Tell me who
in the highest of kingly lines is the supreme hero?


                          Chitra

Hermit, you are jealous of other men's fame.  Do you not know
that all over the world the royal house of the Kurus is the most
famous?


                          Arjuna

The house of the Kurus!


                          Chitra

And have you never heard of the greatest name of that far-famed
house?


                          Arjuna

From your own lips let me hear it.


                          Chitra

Arjuna, the conqueror of the world.  I have culled from the
mouths of the multitude that imperishable name and hidden it with
care in my maiden heart.  Hermit, why do you look perturbed?  Has
that name only a deceitful glitter?  Say so, and I will not
hesitate to break this casket of my heart and throw the false gem
to the dust.

                          Arjuna


Be his name and fame, his bravery and prowess false or true, for
mercy's sake do not banish him from your heart--for he kneels at
your feet even now.


                          Chitra

You, Arjuna!


                          Arjuna

Yes, I am he, the love-hungered guest at your door.


                          Chitra

Then it is not true that Arjuna has taken a vow of chastity for
twelve long years?


                          Arjuna

But you have dissolved my vow even as the moon dissolves the
night's vow of obscurity.


                          Chitra

Oh, shame upon you!  What have you seen in me that makes you
false to yourself?  Whom do you seek in these dark eyes, in these
milk-white arms, if you are ready to pay for her the price of
your probity?  Not my true self, I know.  Surely this cannot be
love, this is not man's highest homage to woman!  Alas, that this
frail disguise, the body, should make one blind to the light of
the deathless spirit!  Yes, now indeed, I know, Arjuna, the fame
of your heroic manhood is false.


                          Arjuna

Ah, I feel how vain is fame, the pride of prowess!  Everything
seems to me a dream.  You alone are perfect; you are the wealth
of the world, the end of all poverty, the goal of all efforts,
the one woman!  Others there are who can be but slowly known.
While to see you for a moment is to see perfect completeness
once and for ever.


                          Chitra

Alas, it is not I, not I, Arjuna!  It is the deceit of a god.
Go, go, my hero, go.  Woo not falsehood, offer not your great
heart to an illusion.  Go.

Scene III

                          Chitra

No, impossible.  To face that fervent gaze that almost grasps you
like clutching hands of the hungry spirit within; to feel his
heart struggling to break its bounds urging its passionate cry
through the entire body--and then to send him away like a
beggar--no, impossible.


             Enter MADANA and VASANTA.

Ah, god of love, what fearful flame is this with which thou hast
enveloped me!  I burn, and I burn whatever I touch.


                          Madana

I desire to know what happened last night.


                          Chitra

At evening I lay down on a grassy bed strewn with the petals of
spring flowers, and recollected the wonderful praise of my beauty
I had heard from Arjuna;--drinking drop by drop the honey that I
had stored during the long day.  The history of my past life like
that of my former existences was forgotten.  I felt like a
flower, which has but a few fleeting hours to listen to all the
humming flatteries and whispered murmurs of the woodlands and
then must lower its eyes from the Sky, bend its head and at a
breath give itself up to the dust without a cry, thus ending the
short story of a perfect moment that has neither past nor future.


                         Vasanta

A limitless life of glory can bloom and spend itself in a
morning.


                          Madana

Like an endless meaning in the narrow span of a song.


                          Chitra

The southern breeze caressed me to sleep.  From the flowering
Malati bower overhead silent kisses dropped over my body.
On my hair, my breast, my feet, each flower chose a bed to die
on.  I slept.  And, suddenly in the depth of my sleep, I felt as
if some intense eager look, like tapering fingers of flame,
touched my slumbering body.  I started up and saw the Hermit
standing before me.  The moon had moved to the west, peering
through the leaves to espy this wonder of divine art wrought in a
fragile human frame.  The air was heavy with perfume; the silence
of the night was vocal with the chirping of crickets; the
reflections of the trees hung motionless in the lake; and with
his staff in his hand he stood, tall and straight and still, like
a forest tree.  It seemed to me that I had, on opening my eyes,
died to all realities of life and undergone a dream birth into a
shadow land.  Shame slipped to my feet like loosened clothes.  I
heard his call--"Beloved, my most beloved!"  And all my forgotten
lives united as one and responded to it.  I said, "Take me, take
all I am!"  And I stretched out my arms to him.  The moon set
behind the trees.  One curtain of darkness covered all.  Heaven
and earth, time and space, pleasure and pain, death and life
merged together in an unbearable ecstasy. . . . With the first
gleam of light, the first twitter of birds, I rose up and sat
leaning on my left arm.  He lay asleep with a vague smile about
his lips like the crescent moon in the morning.  The rosy red
glow of the dawn fell upon his noble forehead.  I sighed and
stood up.  I drew together the leafy lianas to screen the
streaming sun from his face.  I looked about me and saw the same
old earth.  I remembered what I used to be, and ran and ran like
a deer afraid of her own shadow, through the forest path strewn
with shephali flowers.  I found a lonely nook, and sitting down
covered my face with both hands, and tried to weep and cry.  But
no tears came to my eyes.


                          Madana

Alas, thou daughter of mortals!  I stole from the divine
Storehouse the fragrant wine of heaven, filled with it one
earthly night to the brim, and placed it in thy hand to drink--
yet still I hear this cry of anguish!


                 Chitra [bitterly]

Who drank it?  The rarest completion of life's desire, the first
union of love was proffered to me, but was wrested from my grasp?
This borrowed beauty, this falsehood that enwraps me, will slip
from me taking with it the only monument of that sweet union, as
the petals fall from an overblown flower; and the woman ashamed
of her naked poverty will sit weeping day and night.  Lord Love,
this cursed appearance companions me like a demon robbing me of
all the prizes of love--all the kisses for which my heart is
athirst.


                          Madana

Alas, how vain thy single night had been!  The barque of joy came
in sight, but the waves would not let it touch the shore.


                          Chitra

Heaven came so close to my hand that I forgot for a moment that
it had not reached me.  But when I woke in the morning from my
dream I found that my body had become my own rival.  It is my
hateful task to deck her every day, to send her to my beloved and
see her caressed by him.  O god, take back thy boon!


                          Madana

But if I take it from you how can you stand before your lover?
To snatch away the cup from his lips when he has scarcely drained
his first draught of pleasure, would not that be cruel?  With
what resentful anger he must regard thee then?


                          Chitra

That would be better far than this.  I will reveal my true self
to him, a nobler thing than this disguise.  If he rejects it, if
he spurns me and breaks my heart, I will bear even that in
silence.


                         Vasanta

Listen to my advice.  When with the advent of autumn the
flowering season is over then comes the triumph of fruitage.  A
time will come of itself when the heat-cloyed bloom of the body
will droop and Arjuna will gladly accept the abiding fruitful
truth in thee.  O child, go back to thy mad festival.

Scene IV

                          Chitra

WHY do you watch me like that, my warrior?


                          Arjuna

I watch how you weave that garland.  Skill and grace, the twin
brother and sister, are dancing playfully on your finger tips.  I
am watching and thinking.


                          Chitra

What are you thinking, sir?


                          Arjuna

I am thinking that you, with this same lightness of touch and
sweetness, are weaving my days of exile into an immortal wreath,
to crown me when I return home.


                          Chitra

Home!  But this love is not for a home!


                          Arjuna

Not for a home?


                          Chitra

No.  Never talk of that.  Take to your home what is abiding and
strong.  Leave the little wild flower where it was born; leave it
beautifully to die at the day's end among all fading blossoms and
decaying leaves.   Do not take it to your palace hall to fling it
on the stony floor which knows no pity for things that fade and
are forgotten.


                          Arjuna

Is ours that kind of love?


                          Chitra

Yes, no other!  Why regret it?  That which was meant for idle
days should never outlive them.  Joy turns into pain when the
door by which it should depart is shut against it.  Take it and
keep it as long as it lasts.  Let not the satiety of your evening
claim more than the desire of your morning could earn. . . . The
day is done.  Put this garland on.  I am tired.  Take me in your
arms, my love.  Let all vain bickerings of discontent die away at
the sweet meeting of our lips.


                          Arjuna

Hush!  Listen, my beloved, the sound of prayer bells from the
distant village temple steals upon the evening air across the
silent trees!