ACT VII
(Enter,
in a chariot that flies through the air, the king
and MATALI.)
King.
Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think
myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most
gracious welcome.
Matali.
O King, know that each considers himself the other's
debtor. For
You
count the service given
Small by the welcome paid,
Which to the king of heaven
Seems mean for such brave aid.
King.
Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond
imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on
his throne. And then
He
smiled, because his son Jayanta's heart
Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed,
And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath
Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast.
Matali.
But what do you not deserve from heaven's king? Remember:
Twice,
from peace-loving Indra's sway
The demon-thorn was plucked away:
First, by Man-lion's crooked claws;
Again, by your smooth shafts to-day.
King.
This merely proves Indra's majesty. Remember:
All
servants owe success in enterprise
To honour paid before the great deed's done;
Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise
Than resting on the chariot of the sun?
Matali.
The feeling becomes you. (After
a little.) See,
O King! Your glory has the happiness of being published
abroad in heaven.
With
colours used by nymphs of heaven
To make their beauty shine,
Gods write upon the surface given
Of many a magic vine,
As worth their song, the simple story
Of those brave deeds that made your glory.
King.
Matali, when I passed before, I was intent on fighting the
demons, and did not observe this region. Tell me. In which
path of the winds are we?
Matali.
It is
the windpath sanctified
By holy Vishnu's second stride;
Which, freed from dust of passion, ever
Upholds the threefold heavenly river;
And, driving them with reins of light,
Guides the stars in wheeling flight.
King.
That is why serenity pervades me, body and soul.
(He
observes the path taken by the
chariot.) It
seems that we have descended into the region of the clouds.
Matali.
How do you perceive it?
King.
Plovers
that fly from mountain-caves,
Steeds that quick-flashing lightning laves,
And chariot-wheels that drip with spray--
A path o’er pregnant clouds betray.
Matali.
You are right. And in a moment you will be in the world
over which you bear rule.
King
(looking
down).
Matali, our quick descent gives the world of men a
mysterious look. For
The
plains appear to melt and fall
From mountain peaks that grow more tall;
The trunks of trees no longer hide
Nor in their leafy nests abide;
The river network now is clear,
For smaller streams at last appear:
It seems as if some being threw
The world to me, for clearer view.
Matali.
You are a good observer, O King. (He
looks down, awe-struck.) There
is a noble loveliness in the earth.
King.
Matali, what mountain is this, its flanks sinking into the
eastern and into the western sea? It drips liquid gold like
a cloud at sunset.
Matali.
O King, this is Gold Peak, the mountain of the fairy
centaurs. Here it is that ascetics most fully attain to
magic powers. See!
The
ancient sage, Marichi's son,
Child of the Uncreated One,
Father of superhuman life,
Dwells here austerely with his wife.
King
(reverently).
I must not neglect the happy chance. I cannot go farther
until I have walked humbly about the holy one.
Matali.
It is a worthy thought, O King. (The
chariot descends.) We
have come down to earth.
King
(astonished).
Matali,
The
wheels are mute on whirling rim;
Unstirred, the dust is lying there;
We do not bump the earth, but skim:
Still, still we seem to fly through air.
Matali.
Such is the glory of the chariot which obeys you and Indra.
King.
In which direction lies the hermitage of Marichi's son?
Matali
(pointing).
See!
Where
stands the hermit, horridly austere,
Whom clinging vines are choking, tough and sere;
Half-buried in an ant-hill that has grown
About him, standing post-like and alone;
Sun-staring with dim eyes that know no rest,
The dead skin of a serpent on his breast:
So long he stood unmoved, insensate there
That birds build nests within his mat of hair.
King
(gazing).
All honour to one who mortifies the flesh so terribly.
Matali
(checking
the chariot). We
have entered the hermitage of the ancient sage, whose wife
Aditi tends the coral-trees.
King.
Here is deeper contentment than in heaven. I seem plunged
in a pool of nectar.
Matali
(stopping
the chariot).
Descend, O King.
King
(descending).
But how will you fare?
Matali.
The chariot obeys the word of command. I too will descend.
(He does so.) Before you, O King, are the groves where the
holiest hermits lead their self-denying life.
King.
I look with amazement both at their simplicity and at what
they might enjoy.
Their
appetites are fed with air
Where grows whatever is most fair;
They bathe religiously in pools
Which golden lily-pollen cools;
They pray within a jewelled home,
Are chaste where nymphs of heaven roam:
They mortify desire and sin
With things that others fast to win.
Matali.
The desires of the great aspire high. (He
walks about and speaks to some one not
visible.)
Ancient Shakalya, how is Marichi's holy son occupied?
(He
listens.) What
do you say? That he is explaining to Aditi, in answer to
her question, the duties of a faithful wife? My matter must
await a fitter time. (He
turns to the king.) Wait
here, O King, in the shade of the ashoka tree, till I have
announced your coming to the sire of Indra.
King.
Very well. (Exit MATALI. The
king's arm throbs, a happy omen.)
I dare
not hope for what I pray;
Why thrill--in vain?
For heavenly bliss once thrown away
Turns into pain.
A
voice behind the scenes. Don't!
You mustn't be so foolhardy. Oh, you are always the same.
King
(listening).
No naughtiness could feel at home in this spot. Who draws
such a rebuke upon himself? (He
looks towards the sound. In
surprise.)
It is a child, but no child in strength. And two
hermit-women are trying to control him.
He drags
a struggling lion cub,
The lioness' milk half-sucked, half-missed,
Towzles his mane, and tries to drub
Him tame with small, imperious fist.
(Enter
a small boy, as described, and two
hermit-women.)
Boy.
Open your mouth, cub. I want to count your teeth.
First
woman.
Naughty boy, why do you torment our pets? They are like
children to us. Your energy seems to take the form of
striking something. No wonder the hermits call you
All-tamer.
King.
Why should my heart go out to this boy as if he were my own
son? (He
reflects.) No
doubt my childless state makes me sentimental.
Second
woman. The
lioness will spring at you if you don't let her baby go.
Boy
(smiling).
Oh, I'm dreadfully scared. (He
bites his lip.)
King
(in
surprise).
The boy
is seed of fire
Which, when it grows, will burn;
A tiny spark that soon
To awful flame may turn.
First
woman. Let
the little lion go, dear. I will give you another
plaything.
Boy.
Where is it? Give it to me. (He
stretches out his hand.)
King
(looking
at the hand.) He
has one of the imperial birthmarks! For
Between
the eager fingers grow
The close-knit webs together drawn,
Like some lone lily opening slow
To meet the kindling blush of dawn.
Second
woman.
Suvrata, we can't make him stop by talking. Go. In my
cottage you will find a painted clay peacock that belongs
to the hermit-boy Mankanaka. Bring him that.
First
woman. I
will. (Exit.)
Boy.
Meanwhile I'll play with this one.
Hermit-woman
(looks
and laughs). Let
him go.
King.
My heart goes out to this wilful child.
(Sighing.)
They
show their little buds of teeth
In peals of causeless laughter;
They hide their trustful heads beneath
Your heart. And stumbling after
Come sweet, unmeaning sounds that sing
To you. The father warms
And loves the very dirt they bring
Upon their little forms.
Hermit-woman
(shaking
her finger). Won't
you mind me?
(She
looks about.) Which
one of the hermit-boys is here?
(She
sees the king.) Oh,
sir, please come here and free this lion cub. The little
rascal is tormenting him, and I can't make him let go.
King.
Very well. (He
approaches, smiling.) O
little son of a great sage!
Your
conduct in this place apart,
Is most unfit;
’Twould grieve your father's pious heart
And trouble it.
To animals he is as good
As
good can be;
You
spoil it, like a black snake's brood
In
sandal tree.
Hermit-woman.
But, sir, he is not the son of a hermit.
King.
So it would seem, both from his looks and his actions. But
in this spot, I had no suspicion of anything else.
(He
loosens the boy's hold on the cub, and touching him, says
to himself.)
It makes
me thrill to touch the boy,
The stranger's son, to me unknown;
What measureless content must fill
The man who calls the child his own!
Hermit-woman
(looking
at the two).
Wonderful! wonderful!
King.
Why do you say that, mother?
Hermit-woman.
I am astonished to see how much the boy looks like you,
sir. You are not related. Besides, he is a perverse little
creature and he does not know you. Yet he takes no dislike
to you.
King
(caressing
the boy).
Mother, if he is not the son of a hermit, what is his
family?
Hermit-woman.
The family of Puru.
King
(to
himself). He is
of one family with me! Then could my thought be true?
(Aloud.)
But this is the custom of Puru's line:
In
glittering palaces they dwell
While men, and rule the country well;
Then make the grove their home in age,
And die in austere hermitage.
But how could human beings, of their own mere motion,
attain this spot?
Hermit-woman.
You are quite right, sir. But the boy's mother was related
to a nymph, and she bore her son in the pious grove of the
father of the gods.
King
(to
himself). Ah, a
second ground for hope. (Aloud.)
What was the name of the good king whose wife she was?
Hermit-woman.
Who would speak his name? He rejected his true wife.
King
(to
himself). This
story points at me. Suppose I ask the boy for his mother's
name. (He
reflects.) No,
it is wrong to concern myself with one who may be another's
wife. (Enter
the first woman, with the clay
peacock.)
First
woman. Look,
All-tamer. Here is the bird, the shakunta. Isn't the
shakunta lovely?
Boy
(looks
about). Where
is my mamma? (The
two women burst out laughing.)
First
woman. It
sounded like her name, and deceived him. He loves his
mother.
Second
woman. She
said: "See how pretty the peacock is." That is all.
King
(to
himself). His
mother's name is Shakuntala! But names are alike. I trust
this hope may not prove a disappointment in the end, like a
mirage.
Boy.
I like this little peacock, sister. Can it fly?
(He
seizes the toy.)
First
woman (looks
at the boy. Anxiously). Oh,
the amulet is not on his wrist.
King.
Do not be anxious, mother. It fell while he was struggling
with the lion cub. (He
starts to pick it up.)
The
two women. Oh,
don't, don't! (They
look at him.) He
has touched it! (Astonished,
they lay their hands on their bosoms, and look at each
other.)
King.
Why did you try to prevent me?
First
woman.
Listen, your Majesty. This is a divine and most potent
charm, called the Invincible. Marichi's holy son gave it to
the baby when the birth-ceremony was performed. If it falls
on the ground, no one may touch it except the boy's parents
or the boy himself.
King.
And if another touch it?
First
woman. It
becomes a serpent and stings him.
King.
Did you ever see this happen to any one else?
Both
women. More
than once.
King
(joyfully).
Then why may I not welcome my hopes fulfilled at last?
(He
embraces the boy.)
Second
woman. Come,
Suvrata. Shakuntala is busy with her religious duties. We
must go and tell her what has happened.
(Exeunt
ambo.)
Boy.
Let me go. I want to see my mother.
King.
My son, you shall go with me to greet your mother.
Boy.
Dushyanta is my father, not you.
King
(smiling).
You show I am right by contradicting me.
(Enter
SHAKUNTALA,
wearing
her hair in a single braid.)
Shakuntala
(doubtfully).
I have heard that All-tamer's amulet did not change when it
should have done so. But I do not trust my own happiness.
Yet perhaps it is as Mishrakeshi told me.
(She
walks about.)
King (looking
at SHAKUNTALA.
With
plaintive joy). It is
she. It is Shakuntala.
The
pale, worn face, the careless dress,
The single braid,
Show her still true, me pitiless,
The long vow paid.
Shakuntala
(seeing
the king pale with remorse.
Doubtfully). It is
not my husband. Who is the man that soils my boy with his
caresses? The amulet should protect him.
Boy
(running
to his mother).
Mother, he is a man that belongs to other people. And he
calls me his son.
King.
My darling, the cruelty I showed you has turned to
happiness. Will you not recognise me?
Shakuntala
(to
herself). Oh,
my heart, believe it. Fate struck hard, but its envy is
gone and pity takes its place. It is my husband.
King.
Black
madness flies;
Comes memory;
Before my eyes
My love I see.
Eclipse flees far;
Light
follows soon;
The
loving star
Draws
to the moon.
Shakuntala.
Victory, victo----- (Tears
choke her utterance.)
King.
The
tears would choke you, sweet, in vain;
My soul with victory is fed,
Because I see your face again--
No jewels, but the lips are red.
Boy.
Who is he, mother?
Shakuntala.
Ask fate, my child. (She
weeps.)
King.
Dear,
graceful wife, forget;
Let the sin vanish;
Strangely did madness strive
Reason to banish.
Thus blindness works in men,
Love's
joy to shake;
Spurning
a garland, lest
It
prove a snake. (He
falls at her feet.)
Shakuntala.
Rise, my dear husband. Surely, it was some old sin of mine
that broke my happiness--though it has turned again to
happiness. Otherwise, how could you, dear, have acted so?
You are so kind. (The
king rises.) But
what brought back the memory of your suffering wife?
King.
I will tell you when I have plucked out the dart of sorrow.
’Twas
madness, sweet, that could let slip
A tear to burden your dear lip;
On graceful lashes seen to-day,
I wipe it, and our grief, away.
(He
does so.)
Shakuntala
(sees
more clearly and discovers the ring). My
husband, it is the ring!
King.
Yes. And when a miracle recovered it, my memory returned.
Shakuntala.
That was why it was so impossible for me to win your
confidence.
King.
Then let the vine receive her flower, as earnest of her
union with spring.
Shakuntala.
I do not trust it. I would rather you wore it.
(Enter
MATALI.)
Matali.
I congratulate you, O King, on reunion with your wife and
on seeing the face of your son.
King.
My desires bear sweeter fruit because fulfilled through a
friend. Matali, was not this matter known to Indra?
Matali
(smiling).
What is hidden from the gods? Come. Marichi's holy son,
Kashyapa, wishes to see you.
King.
My dear wife, bring our son. I could not appear without you
before the holy one.
Shakuntala.
I am ashamed to go before such parents with my husband.
King.
It is the custom in times of festival. Come.
(They
walk about.
KASHYAPA appears
seated, with ADITI.)
Kashyapa
(looking
at the king).
Aditi,
’Tis
King Dushyanta, he who goes before
Your son in battle, and who rules the earth,
Whose bow makes Indra's weapon seem no more
Than a fine plaything, lacking sterner worth.
Aditi.
His valour might be inferred from his appearance.
Matali.
O King, the parents of the gods look upon you with a glance
that betrays parental fondness. Approach them.
King.
Matali,
Sprung
from the Creator's children, do I see
Great Kashyapa and Mother Aditi?
The pair that did produce the sun in heaven,
To which each year twelve changing forms are given;
That brought the king of all the gods to birth,
Who rules in heaven, in hell, and on the earth;
That Vishnu, than the Uncreated higher,
Chose as his parents with a fond desire.
Matali.
It is indeed they.
King
(falling
before them).
Dushyanta, servant of Indra, does reverence to you both.
Kashyapa.
My son, rule the earth long.
Aditi.
And be invincible. (SHAKUNTALA and
her son fall at their feet.)
Kashyapa.
My daughter,
Your
husband equals Indra, king
Of gods; your son is like his son;
No further blessing need I bring:
Win bliss such as his wife has won.
Aditi.
My child, keep the favour of your husband. And may this
fine boy be an honour to the families of both parents.
Come, let us be seated. (All
seat themselves.)
Kashyapa
(indicating
one after the other).
Faithful
Shakuntala, the boy,
And you, O King, I see
A trinity to bless the world--
Faith, Treasure, Piety.
King.
Holy one, your favour shown to us is without parallel. You
granted the fulfilment of our wishes before you called us
to your presence. For, holy one,
The
flower comes first, and then the fruit;
The clouds appear before the rain;
Effect comes after cause; but you
First helped, then made your favour plain.
Matali.
O King, such is the favour shown by the parents of the
world.
King.
Holy one, I married this your maid-servant by the voluntary
ceremony. When after a time her relatives brought her to
me, my memory failed and I rejected her. In so doing, I
sinned against Kanva, who is kin to you. But afterwards,
when I saw the ring, I perceived that I had married her.
And this seems very wonderful to me.
Like one
who doubts an elephant,
Though seeing him stride by,
And vet believes when he has seen
The footprints left; so I.
Kashyapa.
My son, do not accuse yourself of sin. Your infatuation was
inevitable. Listen.
King.
I am all attention.
Kashyapa.
When the nymph Menaka descended to earth and received
Shakuntala, afflicted at her rejection, she came to Aditi.
Then I perceived the matter by my divine insight. I saw
that the unfortunate girl had been rejected by her rightful
husband because of Durvasas' curse. And that the curse
would end when the ring came to light.
King
(with
a sigh of relief. To himself). Then
I am free from blame.
Shakuntala
(to
herself). Thank
heaven! My husband did not reject me of his own accord. He
really did not remember me. I suppose I did not hear the
curse in my absent-minded state, for my friends warned me
most earnestly to show my husband the ring.
Kashyapa.
My daughter, you know the truth. Do not now give way to
anger against your rightful husband.
Remember:
The
curse it was that brought defeat and pain;
The darkness flies; you are his queen again.
Reflections are not seen in dusty glass,
Which, cleaned, will mirror all the things that pass.
King.
It is most true, holy one.
Kashyapa.
My son, I hope you have greeted as he deserves the son whom
Shakuntala has borne you, for whom I myself have performed
the birth-rite and the other ceremonies.
King.
Holy one, the hope of my race centres in him.
Kashyapa.
Know then that his courage will make him emperor.
Journeying
over every sea,
His car will travel easily;
The seven islands of the earth
Will bow before his matchless worth;
Because wild beasts to him were tame,
All-tamer was his common name;
As Bharata he shall be known,
For he will bear the world alone.
King.
I anticipate everything from him, since you have performed
the rites for him.
Aditi.
Kanva also should be informed that his daughter's wishes
are fulfilled. But Menaka is waiting upon me here and
cannot be spared.
Shakuntala
(to
herself). The
holy one has expressed my own desire. Kashyapa. Kanva knows
the whole matter through his divine insight.
(He
reflects.) Yet
he should hear from us the pleasant tidings, how his
daughter and her son have been received by her husband. Who
waits without? (Enter
a pupil.)
Pupil.
I am here, holy one.
Kashyapa.
Galava, fly through the air at once, carrying pleasant
tidings from me to holy Kanva. Tell him how Durvasas' curse
has come to an end, how Dushyanta recovered his memory, and
has taken Shakuntala with her child to himself.
Pupil.
Yes, holy one. (Exit.)
Kashyapa
(to
the king). My
son, enter with child and wife the chariot of your friend
Indra, and set out for your capital.
King.
Yes, holy one.
Kashyapa.
For now
May
Indra send abundant rain,
Repaid by sacrificial gain;
With aid long mutually given,
Rule you on earth, and he in heaven.
King.
Holy one, I will do my best.
Kashyapa.
What more, my son, shall I do for you?
King.
Can there be more than this? Yet may this prayer be
fulfilled.
May
kingship benefit the land,
And wisdom grow in scholars' band;
May Shiva see my faith on earth
And make me free of all rebirth.
(Exeunt
omnes.)
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