Part 7 (1/2)
PART II.
(441) I hail, for the completion of the difficult toil of this unfinished tale, Uma and civa, parents of earth, whose single body, formed from the union of two halves, shows neither point of union nor division.
(442) I salute Narayana, creator of all, by whom the man-lion form was manifested happily, showing a face terrible with its tossing mane, and displaying in his hand quoit, sword, club and conch.
I do homage to my father, that lord of speech, the creator by whom that story was made that none else could fas.h.i.+on, that n.o.ble man whom all honour in every house, and from whom I, in reward of a former life, received my being.
(443) When my father rose to the sky, on earth the stream of the story failed with his voice. And I, as I saw its unfinished state was a grief to the good, began it, but from no poetic pride.
For that the words flow with such beauty is my father's special gift; a single touch of the ray of the moon, the one source of nectar, suffices to melt the moonstone.
As other rivers at their full enter the Ganges, and by being absorbed in it reach the ocean, so my speech is cast by me for the completion of this story on the ocean-flowing stream of my father's eloquence.
Reeling under the strong sweetness of Kadambari [340] as one intoxicated, I am bereft of sense, in that I fear not to compose an ending in my own speech devoid of sweetness and colour.
(444) The seeds that promise fruit and are destined to flower are forced by the sower with fitting toils; scattered in good ground, they grow to ripeness; but it is the sower's son who gathers them. [341]
'”Moreover,” Kadambari continued, ”if the prince were brought shame itself, put to shame by my weakness, would not allow a sight of him. (446) Fear itself, frightened at the crime of bringing him by force, would not enter his presence. Then all would be over if my friend Patralekha did her utmost from love to me, and yet could not induce him to come, even by falling at his feet, either perchance from his respect for his parents, or devotion to royal duty, or love of his native land, or reluctance towards me. Nay, more. (448) I am that Kadambari whom he saw resting on a couch of flowers in the winter palace, and he is that Candrapida, all ignorant of another's pain, who stayed but two days, and then departed. I had promised Mahacveta not to marry while she was in trouble, though she besought me not to promise, saying, that Kama often takes our life by love even for one unseen. (449) But this is not my case. For the prince, imaged by fancy, ever presents himself to my sight, and, sleeping or waking, in every place I behold him. Therefore talk not of bringing him.”
'(450) Thereupon I [342] reflected, ”Truly the beloved, as shaped in the imagination, is a great support to women separated from their loves, especially to maidens of n.o.ble birth.” (451) And I promised Kadambari that I would bring thee, O Prince. (452) Then she, roused by my speech full of thy name, as by a charm to remove poison, suddenly opened her eyes, and said, ”I say not that thy going pleases me, Patralekha. (453) It is only when I see thee that I can endure my life; yet if this desire possess thee, do what thou wilt!” So saying, she dismissed me with many presents.
'Then with slightly downcast face Patralekha continued: ”The recent kindness of the princess has given me courage, my prince, and I am grieved for her, and so I say to thee, 'Didst thou act worthily of thy tender nature in leaving her in this state?'”
'Thus reproached by Patralekha, and hearing the words of Kadambari, so full of conflicting impulses, the prince became confused; (454) and sharing in Kadambari's feeling, he asked Patralekha with tears, ”What am I to do? Love has made me a cause of sorrow to Kadambari, and of reproach to thee. (455) And methinks this was some curse that darkened my mind; else how was my mind deceived when clear signs were given, which would create no doubt even in a dull mind? All this my fault has arisen from a mistake. I will therefore now, by devoting myself to her, even with my life, act so that the princess may know me not to be of so hard a heart.”
'(456) While he thus spoke a portress hastened in and said: ”Prince, Queen Vilasavati sends a message saying, 'I hear from the talk of my attendants that Patralekha, who had stayed behind, has now returned. And I love her equally with thyself. Do thou therefore come, and bring her with thee. The sight of thy lotus face, won by a thousand longings, is rarely given.'”
'”How my life now is tossed with doubts!” thought the prince. ”My mother is sorrowful if even for a moment she sees me not. (457) My subjects love me; but the Gandharva princess loves me more. Princess Kadambari is worthy of my winning, and my mind is impatient of delay;”
so thinking, he went to the queen, and spent the day in a longing of heart hard to bear; (458) while the night he spent thinking of the beauty of Kadambari, which was as a shrine of love.
'(459) Thenceforth pleasant talk found no entrance into him. His friends' words seemed harsh to him; the conversation of his kinsmen gave him no delight. (460) His body was dried up by love's fire, but he did not yield up the tenderness of his heart. (461) He despised happiness, but not self-control.
'While he was thus drawn forward by strong love, which had its life resting on the goodness and beauty of Kadambari, and held backwards by his very deep affection for his parents, he beheld one day, when wandering on the banks of the Sipra, a troop of horse approaching. (462) He sent a man to inquire what this might be, and himself crossing the Sipra where the water rose but to his thigh, he awaited his messenger's return in a shrine of Kartikeya. Drawing Patralekha to him, he said, ”Look! that horse-man whose face can scarce be descried is Keyuraka!”
'(463) He then beheld Keyuraka throw himself from his horse while yet far off, gray with dust from swift riding, while by his changed appearance, his lack of adornment, his despondent face, and his eyes that heralded his inward grief, he announced, even without words, the evil plight of Kadambari. Candrapida lovingly called him as he hastily bowed and drew near, and embraced him. And when he had drawn back and paid his homage, the prince, having gratified his followers by courteous inquiries, looked at him eagerly, and said, ”By the sight of thee, Keyuraka, the well-being of the lady Kadambari and her attendants is proclaimed. When thou art rested and at ease, thou shalt tell me the cause of thy coming;” and he took Keyuraka and Patralekha home with him on his elephant. (464) Then he dismissed his followers, and only accompanied by Patralekha, he called Keyuraka to him, and said: ”Tell me the message of Kadambari, Madalekha and Mahacveta.”
'”What shall I say?” replied Keyuraka; ”I have no message from any of these. For when I had entrusted Patralekha to Meghanada, and returned, and had told of thy going to Ujjayini, Mahacveta looked upwards, sighed a long, hot sigh, and saying sadly, 'It is so then,' returned to her own hermitage to her penance. Kadambari, as though bereft of consciousness, ignorant of Mahacveta's departure, only opened her eyes after a long time, scornfully bidding me tell Mahacveta; and asking Madalekha (465) if anyone ever had done, or would do, such a deed as Candrapida, she dismissed her attendants, threw herself on her couch, veiled her head, and spent the day without speaking even to Madalekha, who wholly shared her grief. When early next morning I went to her, she gazed at me long with tearful eyes, as if blaming me. And I, when thus looked at by my sorrowing mistress, deemed myself ordered to go, and so, without telling the princess, I have approached my lord's feet. Therefore vouchsafe to hear attentively the bidding of Keyuraka, whose heart is anxious to save the life of one whose sole refuge is in thee. For, as by thy first coming that virgin [343] forest was stirred as by the fragrant Malaya wind, so when she beheld thee, the joy of the whole world, like the spring, love entered her as though she were a red ac.o.ka creeper. (466) But now she endures great torture for thy sake.” (466-470) Then Keyuraka told at length all her sufferings, till the prince, overcome by grief, could bear it no longer and swooned.
'Then, awakening from his swoon, he lamented that he was thought too hard of heart to receive a message from Kadambari or her friends, and blamed them for not telling him of her love while he was there.
(476) '”Why should there be shame concerning one who is her servant, ever at her feet, that grief should have made its home in one so tender, and my desires be unfulfilled? (477) Now, what can I do when at some days' distance from her. Her body cannot even endure the fall of a flower upon it, while even on adamantine hearts like mine the arrows of love are hard to bear. When I see the unstable works began by cruel Fate, I know not where it will stop. (478) Else where was my approach to the land of the immortals, in my vain hunt for the Kinnaras? where my journey to Hemakuta with Mahacveta, or my sight of the princess there, or the birth of her love for me, or my father's command, that I could not transgress, for me to return, though my longing was yet unfulfilled? It is by evil destiny that we have been raised high, and then dashed to the ground. Therefore let us do our utmost to console [344] the princess.” (479) Then in the evening he asked Keyuraka, ”What thinkest thou? Will Kadambari support life till we arrive? (480) Or shall I again behold her face, with its eyes like a timid fawn's?” ”Be firm, prince,” he replied. ”Do thine utmost to go.” The prince had himself begun plans for going; but what happiness or what content of heart would there be without his father's leave, and how after his long absence could that be gained? A friend's help was needed here, but Vaicampayana was away.
'(484) But next morning he heard a report that his army had reached Dacapura, and thinking with joy that he was now to receive the favour of Fate, in that Vaicampayana was now at hand, he joyfully told the news to Keyuraka. (485) ”This event,” replied the latter, ”surely announces thy going. Doubtless thou wilt gain the princess. For when was the moon ever beheld by any without moonlight, or a lotus-pool without a lotus, or a garden without creeper? Yet there must be delay in the arrival of Vaicampayana, and the settling with him of thy plans. But I have told thee the state of the princess, which admits of no delay. Therefore, my heart, rendered insolent by the grace bestowed by thy affection, desires that favour may be shown me by a command to go at once to announce the joy of my lord's coming.” (486) Whereat the prince, with a glance that showed his inward satisfaction, replied: ”Who else is there who so well knows time and place, or who else is so sincerely loyal? This, therefore, is a happy thought. Go to support the life of the princess and to prepare for my return. But let Patralekha go forward, too, with thee to the feet of the princess. For she is favoured by the princess.” Then he called Meghanada, and bade him escort Patralekha, (487) while he himself would overtake them when he had seen Vaicampayana. Then he bade Patralekha tell Kadambari that her n.o.ble sincerity and native tenderness preserved him, even though far away and burnt by love's fire, (489) and requested her bidding to come. (491) After their departure, he went to ask his father's leave to go to meet Vaicampayana. The king lovingly received him, and said to cukanasa: (492) ”He has now come to the age for marriage. So, having entered upon the matter with Queen Vilasavati, let some fair maiden be chosen. For a face like my son's is not often to be seen. Let us then gladden ourselves now by the sight of the lotus face of a bride.” cukanasa agreed that as the prince had gained all knowledge, made royal fortune firmly his own, and wed the earth, there remained nothing for him to do but to marry a wife. ”How fitly,”
thought Candrapida, ”does my father's plan come for my thoughts of a union with Kadambari! (493) The proverb 'light to one in darkness,'
or 'a shower of nectar to a dying man,' is coming true in me. After just seeing Vaicampayana, I shall win Kadambari.” Then the king went to Vilasavati, and playfully reproached her for giving no counsel as to a bride for her son. (494) Meanwhile the prince spent the day in awaiting Vaicampayana's return. And after spending over two watches of the night sleepless in yearning for him, (495) the energy of his love was redoubled, and he ordered the conch to be sounded for his going. (497) Then he started on the road to Dacapura, and after going some distance he beheld the camp, (501) and rejoiced to think he would now see Vaicampayana; and going on alone, he asked where his friend was. But weeping women replied: ”Why ask? How should he be here?” And in utter bewilderment he hastened to the midst of the camp. (502) There he was recognised, and on his question the chieftains besought him to rest under a tree while they related Vaicampayana's fate. He was, they said, yet alive, and they told what had happened. (505) ”When left by thee, he halted a day, and then gave the order for our march. 'Yet,'