Translations Of Shakuntala And Other Works Part 36

The king fulfilled their wish; and while they burned, In mute, sin-stricken sorrow he returned, Hiding death's seed within him, as the sea Hides magic fire that burns eternally.

Thus is foreshadowed in the birth of Rama, his banishment, and the death of his father.

Cantos ten to fifteen form the kernel of the epic, for they tell the story of Rama, the mighty hero of Raghu's line. In these cantos Kalidasa attempts to present anew, with all the literary devices of a more sophisticated age, the famous old epic story sung in masterly fashion by the author of the _Ramayana_. As the poet is treading ground familiar to all who hear him, the action of these cantos is very compressed.

_Tenth canto. The incarnation of Rama_.--While Dasharatha, desiring a son, is childless, the G.o.ds, oppressed by a giant adversary, betake themselves to Vishnu, seeking aid. They sing a hymn of praise, a part of which is given here.

O thou who didst create this All, Who dost preserve it, lest it fall, Who wilt destroy it and its ways-- To thee, O triune Lord, be praise.

As into heaven's water run The tastes of earth--yet it is one, So thou art all the things that range The universe, yet dost not change.

Far, far removed, yet ever near; Untouched by pa.s.sion, yet austere; Sinless, yet pitiful of heart; Ancient, yet free from age--Thou art.

Though uncreate, thou seekest birth; Dreaming, thou watchest heaven and earth; Pa.s.sionless, smitest low thy foes; Who knows thy nature, Lord? Who knows?

Though many different paths, O Lord, May lead us to some great reward, They gather and are merged in thee Like floods of Ganges in the sea.

The saints who give thee every thought, Whose every act for thee is wrought, Yearn for thine everlasting peace, For bliss with thee, that cannot cease.

Like pearls that grow in ocean's night, Like sunbeams radiantly bright, Thy strange and wonder-working ways Defeat extravagance of praise.

If songs that to thy glory tend Should weary grow or take an end, Our impotence must bear the blame, And not thine unexhausted name.

Vishnu is gratified by the praise of the G.o.ds, and asks their desire.

They inform him that they are distressed by Ravana, the giant king of Lanka (Ceylon), whom they cannot conquer. Vishnu promises to aid them by descending to earth in a new avatar, as son of Dasharatha. Shortly afterwards, an angel appears before King Dasharatha, bringing in a golden bowl a substance which contains the essence of Vishnu. The king gives it to his three wives, who thereupon conceive and dream wonderful dreams. Then Queen Kausalya gives birth to Rama; Queen Kaikeyi to Bharata; Queen Sumitra to twins, Lakshmana and Shatrughna.

Heaven and earth rejoice. The four princes grow up in mutual friendship, yet Rama and Lakshmana are peculiarly drawn to each other, as are Bharata and Shatrughna. So beautiful and so modest are the four boys that they seem like incarnations of the four things worth living for--virtue, money, love, and salvation.

_Eleventh canto. The victory over Rama-with-the-axe_.--At the request of the holy hermit Vishvamitra, the two youths Rama and Lakshmana visit his hermitage, to protect it from evil spirits. The two lads little suspect, on their maiden journey, how much of their lives will be spent in wandering together in the forest. On the way they are attacked by a giantess, whom Rama kills; the first of many giants who are to fall at his hand. He is given magic weapons by the hermit, with which he and his brother kill other giants, freeing the hermitage from all annoyance. The two brothers then travel with the hermit to the city of Mithila, attracted thither by hearing of its king, his wonderful daughter, and his wonderful bow. The bow was given him by the G.o.d Shiva; no man has been able to bend it; and the beautiful princess's hand is the prize of any man who can perform the feat. On the way thither, Rama brings to life Ahalya, a woman who in a former age had been changed to stone for unfaithfulness to her austere husband, and had been condemned to remain a stone until trodden by Rama's foot. Without further adventure, they reach Mithila, where the hermit presents Rama as a candidate for the bending of the bow.

The king beheld the boy, with beauty blest And famous lineage; he sadly thought How hard it was to bend the bow, distressed Because his child must be so dearly bought.

He said: "O holy one, a mighty deed That full-grown elephants with greatest pain Could hardly be successful in, we need Not ask of elephant-cubs. It would be vain.

For many splendid kings of valorous name, Bearing the scars of many a hard-fought day, Have tried and failed; then, covered with their shame, Have shrugged their shoulders, cursed, and strode away."

Yet when the bow is given to the youthful Rama, he not only bends, but breaks it. He is immediately rewarded with the hand of the Princess Sita, while Lakshmana marries her sister. On their journey home with their young brides, dreadful portents appear, followed by their cause, a strange being called Rama-with-the-axe, who is carefully to be distinguished from Prince Rama. This Rama-with-the-axe is a Brahman who has sworn to exterminate the entire warrior caste, and who naturally attacks the valorous prince. He makes light of Rama's achievement in breaking Shiva's bow, and challenges him to bend the mightier bow which he carries. This the prince succeeds in doing, and Rama-with-the-axe disappears, shamed and defeated. The marriage party then continues its journey to Ayodhya.

_Twelfth canto. The killing of Ravana_.--King Dasharatha prepares to anoint Rama crown prince, when Queen Kaikeyi interposes. On an earlier occasion she had rendered the king a service and received his promise that he would grant her two boons, whatever she desired. She now demands her two boons: the banishment of Rama for fourteen years, and the anointing of her own son Bharata as crown prince. Rama thereupon sets out for the Dandaka forest in Southern India, accompanied by his faithful wife Sita and his devoted brother Lakshmana. The stricken father dies of grief, thus fulfilling the hermit's curse. Now Prince Bharata proves himself more generous than his mother; he refuses the kingdom, and is with great difficulty persuaded by Rama himself to act as regent during the fourteen years. Even so, he refuses to enter the capital city, dwelling in a village outside the walls, and preserving Rama's slippers as a symbol of the rightful king. Meanwhile Rama's little party penetrates the wild forests of the south, fighting as need arises with the giants there. Unfortunately, a giantess falls in love with Rama, and

In Sita's very presence told Her birth--love made her overbold: For mighty pa.s.sion, as a rule, Will change a woman to a fool.

Scorned by Rama, laughed at by Sita, she becomes furious and threatening.

Laugh on! Your laughter's fruit shall be Commended to you. Gaze on me!

I am a tigress, you shall know, Insulted by a feeble doe.

Lakshmana thereupon cuts off her nose and ears, rendering her redundantly hideous. She departs, to return presently at the head of an army of giants, whom Rama defeats single-handed, while his brother guards Sita. The giantess then betakes herself to her brother, the terrible ten-headed Ravana, king of Ceylon. He succeeds in capturing Sita by a trick, and carries her off to his fortress in Ceylon. It is plainly necessary for Rama to seek allies before attempting to cross the straits and attack the stronghold. He therefore renders an important service to the monkey king Sugriva, who gratefully leads an army of monkeys to his a.s.sistance. The most valiant of these, Hanumat, succeeds in entering Ravana's capital, where he finds Sita, gives her a token from Rama, and receives a token for Rama. The army thereupon sets out and comes to the seash.o.r.e, where it is reinforced by the giant Vibhishana, who has deserted his wicked brother Ravana. The monkeys hurl great boulders into the strait, thus forming a bridge over which they cross into Ceylon and besiege Ravana's capital. There ensue many battles between the giants and the monkeys, culminating in a tremendous duel between the champions, Rama and Ravana. In this duel Ravana is finally slain. Rama recovers his wife, and the princ.i.p.al personages of the army enter the flying chariot which had belonged to Ravana, to return to Ayodhya; for the fourteen years of exile are now over.

_Thirteenth canto. The return from the forest_.--This canto describes the long journey through the air from Ceylon over the whole length of India to Ayodhya. As the celestial car makes its journey, Rama points out the objects of interest or of memory to Sita. Thus, as they fly over the sea:

The form of ocean, infinitely changing, Clasping the world and all its gorgeous state, Unfathomed by the intellect's wide ranging, Is awful like the form of G.o.d, and great.

He gives his billowy lips to many a river That into his embrace with pa.s.sion slips, Lover of many wives, a generous giver Of kisses, yet demanding eager lips.

Look back, my darling, with your fawn-like glances Upon the path that from your prison leads; See how the sight of land again entrances, How fair the forest, as the sea recedes.

Then, as they pa.s.s over the spot where Rama searched for his stolen wife:

There is the spot where, sorrowfully searching, I found an anklet on the ground one day; It could not tinkle, for it was not perching On your dear foot, but sad and silent lay.

I learned where you were carried by the giant From vines that showed themselves compa.s.sionate; They could not utter words, yet with their pliant Branches they pointed where you pa.s.sed of late.

The deer were kind; for while the juicy gra.s.ses Fell quite unheeded from each careless mouth, They turned wide eyes that said, "'Tis there she pa.s.ses The hours as weary captive" toward the south.

There is the mountain where the peac.o.c.ks' screaming, And branches smitten fragrant by the rain, And madder-flowers that woke at last from dreaming, Made unendurable my lonely pain;

And mountain-caves where I could scarce dissemble The woe I felt when thunder crashed anew, For I remembered how you used to tremble At thunder, seeking arms that longed for you.

Rama then points out the spots in Southern India where he and Sita had dwelt in exile, and the pious hermitages which they had visited; later, the holy spot where the Jumna River joins the Ganges; finally, their distant home, unseen for fourteen years, and the well-known river, from which spray-laden breezes come to them like cool, welcoming hands. When they draw near, Prince Bharata comes forth to welcome them, and the happy procession approaches the capital city.

_Fourteenth canto. Sita is put away_.--The exiles are welcomed by Queen Kausalya and Queen Sumitra with a joy tinged with deep melancholy. After the long-deferred anointing of Rama as king, comes the triumphal entry into the ancestral capital, where Rama begins his virtuous reign with his beloved queen most happily; for the very hardships endured in the forest turn into pleasures when remembered in the palace. To crown the king's joy, Sita becomes pregnant, and expresses a wish to visit the forest again. At this point, where an ordinary story would end, comes the great tragedy, the tremendous test of Rama's character. The people begin to murmur about the queen, believing that she could not have preserved her purity in the giant's palace. Rama knows that she is innocent, but he also knows that he cannot be a good king while the people feel as they do; and after a pitiful struggle, he decides to put away his beloved wife. He bids his brother Lakshmana take her to the forest, in accordance with her request, but to leave her there at the hermitage of the sage Valmiki.

When this is done, and Sita hears the terrible future from Lakshmana, she cries:

Take reverent greeting to the queens, my mothers, And say to each with honour due her worth: "My child is your son's child, and not another's; Oh, pray for him, before he comes to birth."

And tell the king from me: "You saw the matter, How I was guiltless proved in fire divine; Will you desert me for mere idle chatter?

Are such things done in Raghu's royal line?

Ah no! I cannot think you fickle-minded, For you were always very kind to me; Fate's thunderclap by which my eyes are blinded Rewards my old, forgotten sins, I see.

Oh, I could curse my life and quickly end it, For it is useless, lived from you apart, But that I bear within, and must defend it, Your life, your child and mine, beneath my heart.

When he is born, I'll scorn my queenly station, Gaze on the sun, and live a h.e.l.l on earth, That I may know no pain of separation From you, my husband, in another birth.

My king! Eternal duty bids you never Forget a hermit who for sorrow faints; Though I am exiled from your bed for ever, I claim the care you owe to all the saints."

So she accepts her fate with meek courage. But

When Rama's brother left her there to languish And bore to them she loved her final word, She loosed her throat in an excess of anguish And screamed as madly as a frightened bird.

Trees shed their flowers, the peac.o.c.k-dances ended, The gra.s.ses dropped from mouths of feeding deer, As if the universal forest blended Its tears with hers, and shared her woeful fear.

While she laments thus piteously, she is discovered by the poet-sage Valmiki, who consoles her with tender and beautiful words, and conducts her to his hermitage, where she awaits the time of her confinement. Meanwhile Rama leads a dreary life, finding duty but a cold comforter. He makes a golden statue of his wife, and will not look at other women.