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Act IV
Scene I. — The sky near the doors of the sunrise; clouds everywhere. Chitralekha and Sahajanya.
SAHAJANYA Dear Chitralekha, like a fading flower The beauty of thy face all marred reveals Sorrow of heart. Tell me thy melancholy; I would be sad with thee.
CHITRALEKHA (sorrowfully) O Sahajanya! Sister, by rule of our vicissitude, I serving at the feet of the great Sun Was troubled at heart for want of Urvasie.
SAHAJANYA I know your mutual passion of sisterliness. What after?
CHITRALEKHA I had heard no news of her So many days. Then I collected vision Divine into myself to know of her. O miserable knowledge!
SAHAJANYA Sister, sister! What knowledge of sorrow?
CHITRALEKHA (still sorrowfully) I saw that Urvasie
Page – 188 Taking with her Pururavas and love — For he had on his ministers imposed His heavy yoke of kingship — went to sport Amorously in Gandhamadan green.
SAHAJANYA (proudly) O love is joy indeed, when in such spots Tasted. And there?
CHITRALEKHA And there upon the strands Of heavenly Ganges, one, a lovely child Of spirits musical, Udayavatie, Was playing, making little forts of sand; On her with all his soul the monarch gazed. This angered Urvasie.
SAHAJANYA O natural! Deep passion always is intolerant. Afterwards?
CHITRALEKHA She pushed aside her pleading husband, Perplexed by the Preceptor’s curse forgot The War-God’s vow and entered in that grove Avoidable of women; but no sooner Had trod its green, most suddenly she was A creeper rooted to that fatal verge.
SAHAJANYA (in a voice of grief ) Now do I know that Fate’s indeed a thing Inexorable, spares no one, when such love Has such an ending; O all too suddenly! How must it be then with Pururavas?
Page – 189 CHITRALEKHA All day and night he passions in that grove Seeking her. And this cool advent of cloud That turns even happy hearts to yearning pain, Will surely kill him.
SAHAJANYA Sister, not long can grief Have privilege over such beautiful beings. Some God will surely pity them, some cause Unite once more. (looking towards the east) Come, sister. Our lord the Sun Is rising in the east. Quick, to our service. They go.
Page – 190 Scene II. — Pururavas enters disordered, his eyes fixed on the sky.
PURURAVAS (angrily) Halt, ruffian, halt! Thou in thy giant arms Bearest away my Urvasie! He has Soared up from a great crag into the sky And wars me, hurling downward bitter rain Of arrows. With this thunderbolt I smite thee. He lifts up a clod and runs as to hurl it; then pauses and looks upwards. (pathetically) Oh me, I am deceived! This was a cloud Equipped for rain, no proud and lustful fiend, The rainbow, not a weapon drawn to kill, Quick-driving showers are these, not sleety rain Of arrows; and that brilliant line like streak Of gold upon a touchstone, cloud-inarmed, I saw, was lightning, not my Urvasie. (sorrowfully) Where shall I find her now? Where clasp those thighs Swelling and smooth and white? Perhaps she stands Invisible to me by heavenly power, All sullen? But her anger was ever swift And ended soon. Perhaps into her heavens She has soared? O no! her heart was soft with love, And love of me. Nor any fiend adverse To Heaven had so much strength as to hale her hence While I looked on. Yet is she gone from me Invisible, swiftly invisible, — Whither? O bitter miracle! and yet — He scans each horizon, then pauses and sighs. Alas! when fortune turns against a man, Then sorrow treads on sorrow. There was already This separation from my love, and hard Enough to bear; and now the pleasant days, Guiltless of heat, with advent cool of rain
Page – 191 Must help to slay me. (laughing) Why do I so tamely Accept addition to my pangs? For even The saints confess, “The king controls the seasons”; If it be so, I will command the thunder Back to his stable. (pausing to think) No, I must permit The season unabridged of pomp; the signs Of storm are now my only majesty; This sky with lightning gilt and laced becomes My canopy of splendour, and the trees Of rain-time waving wide their lavish bloom Fan me; the sapphire-throated peacocks, voiced Sweeter for that divorce from heat, are grown My poets; the mountains are my citizens, They pour out all their streams to swell my greatness. But I waste time in idly boasting vain Glories and lose my love. To my task, to my task! This grove, this grove should find her. He moves onward. And here, O here Is something to enrage my resolution. Red-tinged, expanding, wet and full of rain, These blossom-cups recall to me her eyes Brimming with angry tears. How shall I trace her, Or what thing tell me “Here and here she wandered”? If she had touched with her beloved feet The rain-drenched forest-sands, there were a line Of little gracious footprints seen, with lac Envermeilled, sinking deeper towards the heel Because o’erburdened by her hips’ large glories. He moves onward. (exultantly) Oh joy! I see a hint of her. This way Then went her angry beauty! Lo, her bodice
Page – 192 Bright green as is a parrot’s belly, smitten With crimson drops. It once veiled in her bosom And paused to show her navel deep as love. These are her tears that from those angry eyes Went trickling, stealing scarlet from her lips To spangle all this green. Doubtless her heaving Tumult of breasts broke its dear hold and, she Stumbling in anger, from my heaven it drifted. I’ll gather it to my kisses. He stoops to it, then sorrowfully, O my heart! Only green grass with dragon-wings enamelled! From whom shall I in all the desolate forest Have tidings of her, or what creature help me? Lo, in yon waste of crags the peacock! he Upon a cool moist rock that breathes of rain Exults, aspires, his gorgeous mass of plumes Seized, blown and scattered by the roaring gusts. Pregnant of shrillness is his outstretched throat, His look is with the clouds. Him I will question: Have the bright corners of thine eyes beheld, O sapphire-throated bird, her, my delight, My wife, my passion, my sweet grief? Yielding No answer, he begins his gorgeous dance. Why should he be so glad of my heart’s woe? I know thee, peacock. Since my cruel loss Thy plumes that stream in splendour on the wind, Have not one rival left. For when her heavy Dark wave of tresses over all the bed In softness wide magnificently collapsed On her smooth shoulders massing purple glory And bright with flowers, she passioning in my arms, Who then was ravished with thy brilliant plumes, Vain bird? I question thee not, heartless thing, That joyest in others’ pain. (turning away) Lo, where, new-fired
Page – 193 With sweet bird-passion by the season cool, A cuckoo on the plum-tree sits. This race Is wisest of the families of birds And learned in love. I’ll greet him like himself. O cuckoo, thou art called the bird of love, His sweet ambassador, O cuckoo. Thou Criest and thy delightful voice within The hearts of lovers like an arrow comes, Seeks out the anger there and softly kills. Me also, cuckoo, to my darling bring Or her to me. What saidst thou? “How could she Desert thee loving?” Cuckoo, I will tell thee. Yes, she was angry. Yet I know I never Gave her least cause. But, cuckoo, dost thou know not That women love to feel their sovereignty Over their lovers, nor transgression need To be angry? How! Dost thou break off, O bird, Our converse thus abruptly and turn away To thine own tasks? Alas, ’twas wisely said That men bear easily the bitter griefs Which others feel. For all my misery This bird, my orison disregarding, turns To attack the plum-tree’s ripening fruit as one Drunken with love his darling’s mouth. And yet I cannot be angry with him. Has he not The voice of Urvasie? Abide, O bird, In bliss, though I unhappy hence depart. He walks on, then stops short and listens. O Heaven? what do I hear? the anklets’ cry That tell the musical footing of my love? To right of this long grove ’twas heard. Oh, I Will run to her. (hurrying forward) Me miserable! This was No anklets’ cry embraceable with hands, But moan of swans who seeing the grey wet sky Grow passionate for Himaloy’s distant tarns.
Page – 194 Well, be it so. But ere in far desire They leap up from this pool, I well might learn Tidings from them of Urvasie. (approaching) Listen, O king of all white fowl that waters breed. Afterwards to Himaloy wing thy way, But now the lotus fibres in thy beak Gathered by thee for provender resign; Ere long thou shalt resume them. Me, ah, first From anguish rescue, O majestic swan, With tidings of my sweet; always high souls Prefer another’s good to selfish aims. Thou lookest upward to the heavens and sayest, “I was absorbed with thoughts of Himaloy; Her have I not observed.” O swan, thou liest, For if she never trod upon thy lake’s Embankment, nor thou sawest her arched brows, How couldst thou copy then so perfectly Her footing full of amorous delight, Or whence didst steal it? Give me back my love, Thou robber! Thou hast got her gait and this Is law that he with whom a part is found Must to the claimant realise the whole. (laughing) O yes, thou flyest up, clanging alarm, “This is the king whose duty is to punish All thieves like me!” Go then, but I will plunge Into new hopeful places, seeking love. Lo, wild-drake with his mate, famed chocrobacque, Him let me question. O thou wondrous creature, All saffron and vermilion! Wilt thou then Not tell me of my love? Oh, sawest thou not My Goddess laughing like a lovely child In the bright house of spring? For, wild-drake, thou Who gettest from the chariot’s orb thy name, I who deprived am of her orbed hips,
Page – 195 The chariot-warrior great Pururavas, Encompassed with a thousand armed desires, Question thee. How! “Who? Who?” thou sayest to me! This is too much. It is not possible He should not know me! Bird, I am a king Of kings, and grandson to the Sun and Moon, And earth has chosen me for her master. This Were little. I am the loved of Urvasie! Still art thou silent? I will taunt him, then Perhaps he’ll speak. Thou, wild-drake, when thy love, Her body hidden by a lotus-leaf, Lurks near thee in the pool, deemest her far And wailest musically to the flowers A wild deep dirge. Such is thy conjugal Yearning, thy terror such of even a little Division from her nearness. Me afflicted, Me so forlorn thou art averse to bless With just a little tidings of my love! Alas, my miserable lot has made All creatures adverse to me. Let me plunge Into the deeper wood. Oh no, not yet! This lotus with the honey-bees inside Making melodious murmur, keeps me. I Remember her soft mouth when I have kissed it Too cruelly, sobbing exquisite complaint. These too I will implore. Alas, what use? They will despise me like the others. Yet, Lest I repent hereafter of my silence, I’ll speak to him. O lotus-wooing bee, Tell me some rumour of those eyes like wine. But no, thou hast not seen that wonder. Else Wouldst thou, O bee, affect the lotus’ bloom, If thou hadst caught the sweetness from her lips Breathing, whose scent intoxicates the breeze? I’ll leave him. Lo! with his mate an elephant. His trunk surrounds a nym-tree to uproot. To him will I, he may some rumour have
Page – 196 Or whisper of my love. But softly! Haste Will ruin me. Oh, this is not the time! Now his beloved mate has in her trunk Just found him broken branches odorous And sweet as wine with the fresh leaves not long In bud, new-honied. These let him enjoy. His meal is over now. I may approach And ask him. O rut-dripping elephant, Sole monarch of the herd, has not that moon With jasmines all a glory in her hair And limbs of fadeless beauty, carrying Youth like a banner, whom to see is bliss, Is madness, fallen in thy far ken, O king? Oh joy! he trumpets loud and soft as who Would tell me he has seen indeed my love. Oh, I am gladdened! More to thee I stand Attracted, elephant, as like with like. Sovereign of sovereigns is my title, thou Art monarch of the kingly elephants, And this wide freedom of thy fragrant rut Interminable imitates my own Vast liberality to suppliant men, Regally; thou hast in all the herd this mate, I among loveliest women Urvasie. In all things art thou like me; only I pray, O friend, that thou mayst never know the pang, The loss. Be fortunate, king, farewell! Oh see, The mountain of the Fragrant Glens appears, Fair as a dream, with his great plateaus trod By heavenly feet of women. May it not be, To this wide vale she too has with her sisters Brought here her beautiful body full of spring? Darkness! I cannot see her. Yet by these gleams Of lightning I may study, I may find. Ah God! the fruit of guilt is bounded not With the doer’s anguish; this stupendous cloud Is widowed of the lightning through my sin.
Page – 197 Yet I will leave thee not, O thou huge pile Of scaling crags, unquestioned. Hear me, answer me! O mountain, has she entered then the woods, Love’s green estate, — ah, she too utter love! Her breasts were large like thine, with small sweet space Between them, and like thine her glorious hips And smooth fair joints a rapture. Dumb? No answer? I am too far away, he has not heard me. Let me draw nearer. Mountain, seen was she, A woman all bereaved, her every limb A loveliness, in these delightful woods?
ECHO Nearer, O nearer! Mountain-seen was she, A woman all bereaved, her every limb A loveliness, in these delightful woods.
PURURAVAS He has answered, answered! O my heart, I draw Nearer to her! In my own words the hill Answers thee, O my heart. As joyous tidings Mayst thou too hear, mountain. She then was seen, My Urvasie in thy delightful woods?
ECHO Mountain! mountain! mountain! She then was seen, My Urvasie in thy delightful woods, In thy delightful woods, delightful woods.
PURURAVAS Alas! ’tis Echo mocks me with my voice Rolling amid the crags and mountain glens. Out on thee, Echo! Thou hast killed my heart. O Urvasie! Urvasie! Urvasie! He falls down and swoons. (recovering) I am all weary and sad. Oh, let me rest
Page – 198 Beside this mountain river for a moment And woo the breeze that dances on the waves. All turbid is this stream with violent rain, And yet I thrill to see it. For, O, it seems Just like my angry darling when she went Frowning — as this does with its little waves, — A wrathful music in her girdle, — and see! This string of birds with frightened clangour rise; She trailed her raiment as the river its foam, For it loosened with her passion as she moved With devious feet, all angry, blind with tears, And often stopped to brood upon her wrongs: But soon indignantly her stormy speed Resumed, so tripping, winding goes the stream, As she did. O most certainly ’tis she, My sweet quick-tempered darling, suddenly changed Into a river’s form. I will beseech her And soothe her wounded spirit. Urvasie? Did I not love thee perfectly? Did not My speech grow sweetness when I spoke to thee? And when did my heart anything but hate To false our love? O what was the slight fault Thou foundest in thy servant that thou couldst Desert him, Urvasie, O Urvasie! She answers not! It is not she, merely A river. Urvasie would not have left Pururavas to tryst with Ocean. And now Since only by refusal to despair Can bliss at last be won, I will return Where first she fled from my pursuing eyes. This couching stag shall give me tidings of her, Who looks as if he were a splendid glance Some dark-eyed Dryad had let fall to admire This budding foliage and this young green beauty Of grass. But why averts he then his head As though in loathing? I perceive his reason. Lo, his fair hind is hasting towards him, stayed
Page – 199 By their young deerling plucking at her teats. With her his eyes are solely, her with bent Lithe neck he watches. Ho, thou lord of hind! Sawst thou not her I love? O stag, I’ll tell thee How thou shouldst know her. Like thine own dear hind She had large eyes and loving, and like hers That gaze was beauty. Why does he neglect My words and only gaze towards his love? All prosperous creatures slight the unfortunate! ‘Tis natural. Then elsewhere let me seek. I have found her, I have found her! O a hint And token of her way! This one red drop Of summer’s blood the very codome was, Though rough with faulty stamens, yet thought worthy To crown her hair. And thou, asoka red, Didst watch my slender-waisted when she gave So cruelly a loving heart to pain. Why dost thou lie and shake thy windy head? How couldst thou by her soft foot being untouched Break out into such bloom of petals stung And torn by jostling crowds of bees, who swarm All wild to have thy honey? Ever be blest, Thou noble trunk. What should this be, bright red, That blazes in a crevice of the rocks? For if it were a piece of antelope’s flesh Torn by a lion, ‘twould not have this blaze, This lustre haloing it; nor can it be A spark pregnant of fire; for all the wood Is drowned in rain. No, ’tis a gem, a miracle Of crimson, like the red felicitous flower, And with one radiant finger of the sun Laid on it like a claim. Yet I will take it, For it compels my soul with scarlet longing. Wherefore? She on whose head it should have burned, Whose hair all fragrant with the coral-bloom I loved like Heaven, is lost to me, beyond Recovery lost to me. Why should I take it
Page – 200 To mar it with my tears?
A VOICE Reject it not, My son; this is the jewel Union born From the red lac that on the marvellous feet Was brilliant of Himaloy’s child, and, soon, Who bears it is united with his love.
PURURAVAS Who speaks to me? It is a saint who dwells In forest like the deer. He first of creatures Has pitied me. O my lord anchoret, I thank thee. Thou, O Union, if thou end My separation, if with that small-waisted Thou shouldst indeed be proved my Union, Jewel, I’ll use thee for my crown, as Shiva Upon his forehead wears the crescent moon. This flowerless creeper! Wherefore do mine eyes Dwell with its barren grace and my heart yearn Towards it? And yet, O, not without a cause Has she enchanted me. There standst thou, creeper, All slender, thy poor sad leaves are moist with rain, Thou silent, with no voice of honey-bees Upon thy drooping boughs; as from thy lord The season separated, leaving off Thy habit of bloom. Why, I might think I saw My passionate darling sitting penitent With tear-stained face and body unadorned, Thinking in silence how she spurned my love. I will embrace thee, creeper, for thou art Too like my love. Urvasie! all my body Is thrilled and satisfied of Urvasie! I feel, I feel her living limbs. (despairingly) But how Should I believe it? Everything I deem
Page – 201 A somewhat of my love, next moment turns To other. Therefore since by touch at least I find my dear one, I will not separate Too suddenly mine eyes from sleep. (opening his eyes slowly) O love, ‘Tis thou! He swoons. URVASIE Upraise thy heart, my King, my liege!
PURURAVAS Dearest, at last I live! O thou hadst plunged me Into a dark abyss of separation, And fortunately art thou returned to me, Like consciousness given back to one long dead.
URVASIE With inward senses I have watched and felt Thy whole long agony.
PURURAVAS With inward senses? I understand thee not.
URVASIE I will tell all. But let my lord excuse my grievous fault, Who, wretch enslaved by anger, brought to this My sovereign! Smile on me and pardon me!
PURURAVAS Never speak of it. Thy clasp is thy forgiveness. For all my outward senses and my soul Leap laughing towards thy bosom. Only convince me How thou couldst live without me such an age.
Page – 202 URVASIE Hearken. The War-God Skanda, from of old Virginity eternal vowing, came To Gandhamadan’s bank men call the pure, And made a law.
PURURAVAS What law, beloved?
URVASIE This That any woman entering these precincts Becomes at once a creeper. And for limit Of the great curse, “Without the jewel born From crimson of my mother’s feet can she Never be woman more.” Now I, my lord, My heart perplexed by the Preceptor’s curse, Forgot the War-God’s oath and entered here, Rejecting thy entreaties, to the wood Avoidable of women: at the first step, All suddenly my form was changed. I was A creeper growing at the wood’s wild end.
PURURAVAS Oh, now intelligible! When from thy breasts Loosening the whole embrace, the long delight, I sank back languid, thou wouldst moan for me Like one divided far. How is it then Possible that thou shouldst bear patiently Real distance between us? Lo, this jewel, As in thy story, gave thee to my arms. Admonished by a hermit sage I kept it.
URVASIE The jewel Union! Therefore at thy embrace I was restored. She places the jewel gratefully upon her head.
Page – 203 PURURAVAS Thus stand a while. O fairest, Thy face, suffused with crimson from this gem Above thee pouring wide its fire and splendour, Has all the beauty of a lotus reddening In early sunlight.
URVASIE O sweet of speech! remember That thy high capital awaits thee long. It may be that the people blame me. Let us, My own dear lord, return.
PURURAVAS Let us return.
URVASIE What wafture will my sovereign choose?
PURURAVAS O waft me Nearer the sun and make a cloud our chariot, While lightning like a streaming banner floats Now seen, now lost to vision, and the rainbow With freshness of its glory iridescent Edges us. In thine arms uplift and waft me, Beloved, through the wide and liquid air. They go.
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