Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust (15 page)

He added, ‘I was looking for the way to the heart of the mistress of the palace.’ I was unable to understand him. He calmly said, ‘I am going to ask something of you!’

I stammered, ‘What is it?’

‘You should release Sharmishtha from bondage!’

Angry, I asked him, ‘What shall I do with her on releasing her? Exchange places with her? Make her the Queen or my rival?’

He kept calm and said, ‘I can understand that in a fit of anger you insisted on her being your maid. But man’s greatness lies in mastering the passions with the help of thought.’ Seeing that I was quiet, he added, ‘Devayani, imagine yourself for a moment in her place. If you had to spend your life as her maid ...’

I said disparagingly, ‘I? A maid?’ Calmly he said, ‘Devayani, destiny can be very wayward and heartless. When it will beggar the queen into a maid and make a queen of a maid ...’

I said deprecatingly, ‘I understand these subtle words, Kacha!’

‘Forgive me if I have said anything to offend you. There is only one way to understand the unhappy plight of another; that is to imagine oneself in his place. So far Kacha has not had to ask Devayani for anything. He thought maybe she will give these alms to her brother.’

I realised it was no use getting into an argument with him. I turned blind, deaf and mute. His eyes were neither hard nor pathetic. They were blank. But the essence of all mystic power and magic was concentrated in them. Kacha’s looks were no different.

I was gathering my strength to fight him.

By bringing Yati to court he had brought ill omen to Father’s penance. Father was his preceptor. Father had brought him back to life. But he had no word of respect for or devotion to him. He has seen my dazzling palace but has no praise for me. And yet, he had the audacity to offer me gratuitous advice to release Sharmishtha from bondage. He did not hesitate a second when breaking my heart! I will not give him any alms!

I got up to leave without looking at him.

Kacha also got up. He said calmly, ‘Your Majesty, I am leaving for Bhrigu Mountain tomorrow. I propose to engage myself in prayer and meditation in solitude.’

I bowed to him while he was still talking. Blessing me, he said, ‘When and in what circumstances we shall meet again, the Almighty alone knows. I only pray that He may give the Queen guidance and you, Devayani, happiness forever.’

Next morning, Mother sent word that she had decided to accompany Kacha into the mountains. His Majesty was upset at it. The thought that Mother was renouncing life and going into the jungle made a child of him. I also pressed Mother to stay, so that people should not say that she left because of me. But she was determined.

She left directly from Ashokavan. Before leaving she drew me aside and said, ‘My girl, there is nothing that I now wish for. But for no reason, I am anxious about Yayu. He is like a child. Remember a word of wisdom from my experience. It is not enough for a young woman to be her husband’s wife. She has to be companion, sister, daughter and indeed, on occasion, even a mother to him.’

I was convinced, from what the old maid told me about a conversation between mother and son, that her advice was mere pretension, in fact, sheer playacting.

Mother had advised His Majesty to look after himself and added, ‘Do let me know when my grandson arrives. I shall be flattered if you give him your father’s name. Do you mind coming into the garden with me? I would like to show you a herb.’

‘What is it a specific for?’

‘The ailment is ... it has no specific name. But sometimes man is tired of life ... his own or someone else’s. I hope you will have no occasion for it. But Yayu if you had a wife like Sharmishtha, I would have gone away without a care.’

Kacha was of a piece with Mother. A fraud, an actor and treacherous. At parting he had left a note with Sharmishtha for His Majesty.

In the end I plucked courage to ask His Majesty, ‘Anything special in that letter?’

He handed me the letter, adding, ‘Not really! But I keep thinking it would have been far better if, like Kacha, I had been born an ascetic.’

Kacha’s letter ran:

We have met after a long time. Meeting a dear friend or acquaintance and talking freely together is not a mere formality. It has an element of communion of souls. On such occasions, the captive soul, even if momentarily, experiences the joy of being free. Sages and ascetics undergo arduous penance to perpetuate that joy. I had it in a measure in your company. I shall always remember those happy moments.

I pray that both of you will forgive me with generosity for one thing. Until coming here, I did not know of Yati’s existence. I took pity on him as an unknown ascetic who had lost his wits. I should not have brought him to court in these circumstances. But the Prime Minister conveyed to me the urgent bidding of the Queen. I thought Yati would be interested in the company of the other sages here and keep quiet.

But what transpired was quite different. And strange. The anticlimax to the celebrations was my doing. I have heard that friendship forgives. I beg for forgiveness.

I heard about Yati from you for the first time. His condition today is very pitiable.

I have tried to reason why such a lot has befallen him. His loss of reason must be attributed to an extremely one-sided and faulty line of thought. Body and soul, man and woman are the dual entities on which life is based. Yati revolted against this basic fundamental conception. How could it succeed?

Life is full of numerous conflicting duals. An ascetic does achieve and experience eternal happiness in a condition where duals cease to exist. To realise it he adopts a rigid code of conduct. But this code rests essentially on his acceptance of the fact that conflicting duals do exist. It is only when the soul reveals its existence through the body that it can see the world. If the woman does not bear the child for nine months, how can man be born? How elementary these facts are! The ordinary man accepts them as a part of his life. Being a natural part of creation, he accepts its suzerainty.

Yati not only did not acknowledge the suzerainty of creation but denied even its existence. Half of man ... his body ... is regulated by numerous laws of Nature. It is only through the body that the soul can soar. And it is only then that man rises above Nature. He can dictate to Nature. This he can do, not by turning away from Nature or spurning it, but by bowing to its existence.

Man is the supreme link between Nature and God. God transcends all conflict and Nature has no conception of conflicting duals. Man alone has it. The river that provides water for the thirsty person also drowns him when he ventures into deep water.

Nature does not differentiate between right and wrong; man alone can do it. If a mother’s only child is being drowned the river does not feel anything in the matter. But if another man is there on the bank ... provided it is a man who has progressed from the bare instinct to live to higher values ... he will do everything possible to save that life, even at the risk to his own.

No, even after writing at such length I have not succeeded in making myself clear. My knowledge and meditation are so little. I am a traveller in quest of truth, but I have a long way to go yet.

In our talks I frequently referred to the soul. You asked me once or twice with a smile, ‘Where is this soul?’ I was unable to offer a satisfactory explanation. But I pray that you will constantly keep before you the following allegorical sketch drawn by an ancient sage. The allegory runs thus:

In human life, the soul is the passenger, the body the chariot, conscience the charioteer and mind the reins. The different senses are the horses, all the items of enjoyment are the roads, and the soul with senses and the mind attached to it has to use them.

If there is no chariot, where will the soul sit? How will he get to the battlefield of life quickly? How will he fight the enemy? Therefore, one must not underrate the importance of the chariot i.e., the body. Yati made that unpardonable mistake.

The senses are the horses of this chariot. Because without them, he cannot move at all. If the horses are just harnessed to the chariot, there is no knowing when they will run amuck and the chariot be thrown into a deep chasm and be smashed to smithereens. Therefore, the horses in the form of senses must be controlled by the reins, i.e. the mind. But even these reins must always be in the hands of the charioteer. Otherwise they might as well not be there. Therefore, the mind must be under the control of the conscience. The mind and the conscience working together can regulate the chariot with caution.

The ‘I’, an infinitesimal part of God, which wakes up in all of us and which pervades all beings ... which transcends conscience and mind and can also see beyond life and death ... the soul itself is the passenger in the chariot.

I have written at length. I forgot that although this puzzle is of absorbing interest to a man like me, following the path of asceticism, it can be very boring and abstruse to others.

I am not being modest when I say that I often feel that the path of asceticism is much easier than life as a householder. This struggle of the soul for salvation manifests itself in many forms. The cult of asceticism is one exacting form of it.

On the other hand, love of man and woman is another attractive form of the same struggle. But this love must not merely be physical infatuation. That can only lead to a union of bodies. True love is a communication of minds. After sometime, it grows into a communion of souls. This delightful path of the union of souls is perhaps even more difficult than the arduous path of asceticism, for the attainment of God. Being a householder is noble and pure sacrifice. But if this sacrifice is to bear fruit, the first thing that the husband and wife have to offer in sacrifice is their ego.

Devayani will soon attain motherhood. May the Almighty ever bless you and the Queen.

I was so bored reading the letter. His Majesty asked me for the letter. He wanted to read it again. I asked him in jest if the letter was more delightful than myself?

He looked steadily at me and said, ‘The Creator must be troubled these days because he cannot make anything more beautiful than you.’

‘You are a born flatterer,’ I said blushing. He lifted my chin and looking deep into my eyes said, ‘Truly Devayani, you now look even prettier then before.’

‘But do you know why?’

‘No, I don’t !’

I buried my face in his side and, ‘Men are so dense. You see, I am going to be a mother, that is why!’

It was only now that he saw it. He paused and added, ‘You will now be craving for things, will you not?’

‘Not will be. I am already.’

‘Whatever it is, tell me and see if it is not fulfilled in the instant.’

‘I will tell you. My first wish ... Don’t read this letter of your friend again.’

‘But ...’

‘I will not have it. Like that hair of the girl friend of your childhood which you have kept ... in the same box if you like, put this away too. In our dotage, we shall read it together over and over again. But today? No, not this foolish dissertation on the soul, at a time when my body and mind are blossoming to new heights of pleasure at the prospect of motherhood, when all the worldly pleasures are at our command.’

‘As you wish.’

The next month or six weeks were of
great happiness. I wished to witness over again the plays staged during the town celebrations. During their performance, I was reminded of
our earlier conversation. I had then said, ‘You would look well as an ascetic.’ While reading Kacha’s letter, he had also said himself, ‘It would have been much better if I had been an ascetic like him.’

The very idea was tantalising. But how to make it come true? I thought of a plan. I said, ‘I feel like spending two or three hours quietly by moonlight on
the banks of the Yamuna, in the company of an ascetic.’

He said laughing, ‘We can go to the bank of the Yamuna in moonlight anytime, but your desire to go there in the company of an ascetic is rather ...?’

‘But where do we find a sage whom you know? It will be enough if you go with me as an ascetic!’

‘What nonsense ...’

‘You don’t really love me,’ said I fretting. Thereafter for a couple of days, I did not even talk to him. I kept away from him.

What a powerful weapon
feigned anger can be in the hands of
a woman! If hesitatingly, His
Majesty
agreed to pose as a sage. In the evening of a moonlit night, the King accompanied the Queen into the green room. On the way out,
it was a grand, lustrous sage carrying a stick and a water carafe who accompanied her.

I asked the charioteer to drive down to the Yamuna. I had already taken him into my confidence. At the moonlit river bank I told His Majesty, ‘I had once said, “You would look well as a sage!” to which you said, “I will never be one!” But today ... who wins?’

We both enjoyed the joke for a long time. Ashokavan was not very far from there. Sharmishtha would never recognise His Majesty in this garb. I saw no harm in such a practical joke. We turned towards Ashokavan.

I said to the servants, ‘I have brought a great sage here so that Sharmishtha can also see him. In a little while I sha
ll
come
back
for
him
again.’

His Majesty could say or do nothing. He quietly went in. Inwardly, I could not help laughing at Sharmishtha’s plight. In all reverence she would attend on the sage. How abashed she will be when reminded of it. There will be no end to her embarrassment!

After spending another two hours on the banks of the Yamuna, I took His Majesty back to the town.

On the way back he looked unusually cheerful. I could not make out what could have caused it. But looking at him, I was reminded of the glorious west, which in the evening glows in the same colours as the east in the morning.

‘What did you say in your blessing?’

‘The same as to every unmarried girl ... that she may find a worthy husband!’

I burst out laughing at the blessing pronounced by His
Majesty
.

It was three months since Father started on his meditation. I wanted to see him. His Majesty felt that I would be unable to stand the long journey, but I would not be reassured unless I saw him with my own eyes.

I did go there. I was very happy to see him looking fit, but the journey was so arduous that I myself was taken ill. I had to stay away from His Majesty longer than I had expected.

In time I was a mother. I had a boy. Not only the capital but the entire kingdom was festive.

The name to be given to the baby was debated. His Majesty suggested first his father’s name and then his grandfather’s. But I did not want to borrow a stale name. I found a new one — Yadu!

Sharmishtha came to the palace for the naming ceremony. There was now a kind of halo on her face. I had imagined that she would get so bored in the solitude of Ashokavan that she would abjectly fall at my fe
et
and beg of me, ‘Please release me from my bondage!’ But what I saw was quite different. She looked happy and contented.

Although that was the impression I gathered from her face, I suspected something else from her manner and bearing. I asked my old maid to keep an eye on her for a while. The old maid soon came back and whispered something in my ear. She, a princess! Would she go astray? And that with a mere servant?