Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust (18 page)

I could not understand his silence and the uncertain anxiety evident in his touch. In the end, the cause of his fear was apparent from his broken words. As in the case of his father, the fear of Maharishi Shukra pronouncing a curse on His Majesty.

I knew well both Devayani — jealous and vengeful — and Maharishi Shukra, short tempered and impetuous! His Majesty’s fear was not unfounded.

If His Majesty should be prey to Maharishi Shukra’s anger Sharmishtha would have to hang her head in shame all her life. In future all maidens in love will laugh at her and say that she had sacrificed her beloved to preserve her own good name and happiness.

True love is selfless. My haunting doubt of sin had been stilled by the thought that I was following in the footsteps of Mother Parvati. Even now I was resolved to follow her, I would bear myself so Devayani will never suspect His Majesty! I would face the situation alone.

Mother Parvati’s path — I reminded myself over and over again — led as far as the sacrificial fire. Remember, I told myself that it was only by jumping into her father’s sacrificial fire that she became a goddess.

Two or three days later, Devayani returned. I realised that His Majesty must be sticking to his room all night so as not to rouse suspicion. But having been denied the happiness of his sight and touch, my mind felt starved and sleep would intervene at intervals.

Night after night passed in lonely helplessness. Like the eyes, my lips too were thirsty. One day I could not contain myself. I got up and showered innumerable kisses on His Majesty’s picture. They say love is foolish. Time raced by like an agile, frisky horse. Devayani was in her ninth month. So, she did not come the way of Ashokavan. Once she purposely sent for me. I went to the palace. I was relieved that she had no inkling of my condition.

That same day, my grief at the separation from His Majesty got over.

I was standing at the window of the room, admiring the beautiful evening. Suddenly, I saw the tiny crescent of the moon smiling from the sky, behind a tall tree. I was happy at the thought that I also had a tiny crescent inside me — invisible today but a very heartening crescent. I would fondly talk to the little one. While His Majesty used to be with me occasionally and only for a short while at night, the tiny life was with me all the time. I could forget all my sorrow absorbed in it. The pain of separation from His Majesty, of the body hankering for his touch; the pointed arrowheads of all this pain were blunted in the company of that tiny life.

Is it possible that the presence of God is revealed to ascetics like Kacha in just this manner? If otherwise, would their minds be ever calm and cheerful?

What a great happiness is motherhood! No matter how beautiful the leaves, the creeper is incomplete in its beauty without flowers! A head of leaf is the glory of the creeper. But the flower creates a new world. There is nothing in the whole world to compare with the joy of creation. Was it for nothing that Maharishi Shukra was so proud of his achievement of Sanjeevani?

I was very happy talking to the tiny life in our privacy. I would ask him: ‘Would you like me for a mother? Your mother is a maid but she became one for her country. Will you make your mother happy? Your father is the King of Hastinapur! Even so, he cannot keep me happy. Now you are my only hope. My little prince, my baby moon, there is nothing in this world except you that is mine.’

I spoke to him endlessly like this. Occasionally, I thought he responded. That must have been my imagination. But talking to him dispelled my gloom and misery. As the sky clears after a shower, my mind would clear up. I started craving for things. If I had been with my mother she would have fondly granted every wish of mine, and elaborately too! But ...

Also, my hankering was rather unusual. I would want to wander in the forest, hunt the wild beasts there, climb the taller trees at night, and gather all the blue flowers on the creeper at the top of the trees for a braid for my hair. If I met a lion, I wanted to open his mouth, holding him by his mane and count his teeth.

Devayani had a boy. I was present at the naming ceremony. My body looked different now.

I somehow consoled myself that Devayani would be so happily engrossed in the ceremony that she would have no time to notice me. I tried to keep out of her sight. But she called me near to see her Yadu. She stared at me and said, ‘Ashokavan seems to have rather agreed with you, Sharmishtha! Are you not rather lonely there?’

‘I was in the beginning. But two maids who looked after me in childhood are now with me. We spend lots of time talking and reminiscing about childhood.’

‘I see! Who else visits you there?’

‘Who can come? Occasionally sages come there and time flies waiting on them.’

When I got away from her, I felt relieved, as if I had escaped from the cave of a tigress.

I talked to acquaintances among the maids. Devayani’s old maid followed me and I was frightened. I decided to return to Ashokavan, without delaying anymore, when Devayani herself sent for me. Trembling I went to her room. She dismissed the other maids, closed the door and asked me harshly, ‘Are you expecting? This illicit affair ...’

‘I am not a wanton. By the grace of a great sage ...’

I spent that whole night tossing in bed. I had not sinned in my love. Why did I not summarily say to her, ‘Please do not involve Kacha for nothing. He has nothing to do with this.’

What else was open to me except to beg in silence for forgiveness of Kacha? His affectionate figure stood before my eyes. I knelt before it, folded my hands and said, ‘Dear brother, forgive this helpless sister of yours.’

* * *

I was almost dying with labour pains. I was baffled by this strange pairing of life and death. I would close my eyes when the pain became unbearable, but I doubted if I would ever open them again. I thought I would never see this beautiful but cruel world again. Will it be a boy? God, if I am destined to die, let me see my child first — let me at least cuddle it in my arms.

I felt everything turn pitch dark and I do not remember what happened. When I opened my eyes again, I felt as if I had woken up from eternal sleep. My two maids were whispering something in my ear. In no time, those words were like the strains of music pervading the earth. I listened — listened with my heart in my ears. The maids said, ‘It is a boy. A boy ... a boy ... fair skinned chubby little boy.’

There were only three of us present at the naming ceremony — my maids and myself.

My boy was the son of a king. But he had been born to hapless Sharmishtha. Who was going to celebrate the naming ceremony? I wished to name him Pururava after His Majesty’s great grandfather — a renowned warrior. But I was afraid that undesirable suspicion would arise. I named him Puroo. The ceremony was held in the garden outside the apartment, with my hands for a cradle, the moon above for the toys hung on the cradle and the trees and creepers around for garlands.

Puroo brought unending happiness into my life. He had at birth a lovely head of hair. If Puroo was hungry and tugging at my sari for my breasts, it was the height of heavenly bliss. Sometimes he would blow the milk away with ‘
Phuh
.’ The drops would fall on his cheek. I would then kiss those cheeks to his exasperation. His eyes gazing at me steadily were like two little stars. His lips breaking into a gentle smile at seeing me contained all the splendour of spring.

Puroo grew day by day. In due course of time he could turn over, crawl, sit up and soon he made friends with the birds, flowers and the moonlight.

Puroo’s first birthday was at hand. Devayani had left with her son to see her father. That day, I was impatient like a new bride. In the evening, Puroo played about with my carefully and eagerly done up hair and ruined the coiffure. For the first time, I was angry with him. When he persisted, I even got rough with him. The next moment, I relented and bathed him with tears. How pleasurable such tears are!

It was well past midnight but the door of the passage had not opened.

It was more than an hour later the secret door creaked and slowly moved open. My heart was in my mouth. The next moment like lightning in the clouds, I was in the arms of His Majesty.

We had come together after a long parting — how the union overflowed with joy. We had lots to talk about. But try as we would, the words would not come and yet we did talk a lot, not with our eyes, with touch and tears.

His Majesty sat for a long time gazing at Puroo sleeping. Then he took both my hands in his and said, ‘Shama, you must forgive me. Today, I can do nothing for our dear Puroo. But tomorrow ...’ I stopped him.

Devayani had arranged to spy on me. So I was content with seeing him once or twice a week.

One night Puroo was awake when he came. He had learnt to pick flowers in the garden. In a little while the sky was glowing with stars. Puroo was fascinated with their splendour. He must have imagined, he could pick the stars as well. He beckoned to the maid to lift him higher and higher. Puroo insisted on picking them. He cried till his eyes were red and swollen. When feeding him, I called all his friends the sparrow, the crow, the cat and so on. But he would not eat. I was patting him in my arms till after midnight but he had obstinately kept awake.

That was the only time His Majesty saw him awake. He stretched out his arms to pick Puroo up. He turned his back on His Majesty. His Majesty looked admiringly at the back of that slight figure on my shoulder.

Puroo wanted to show me something and took my face in his hands. In the corner was the picture of His Majesty drawn by me. He was all the time pointing to it and to His Majesty.

His
Majesty kissed him very lovingly with the words, ‘You rogue!’ I kissed Puroo on the spot where His Majesty had done. And a thrill went through me! That one kiss bathed me both in love and affection.

Devayani’s return put an end to all my happiness. By now Puroo had broken into monosyllabic speech, I started sitting before the picture of His Majesty with Puroo every evening. I would make him fold his hands to it and say ‘da, da’! I often wished that he should quickly learn to say ‘da, da,’ that sometime when His Majesty was here he should so call him. Then I wondered if it was good for man to fly thus on the wings of imagination.

I was so engrossed in bringing up Puroo that I had no time to brood.

Once one of my maids started talking about my own doings in childhood. I could not help comparing my carefree childhood with my present slavery.

One after another, the old wounds opened and bled.

When I was thus restless I would think of Kacha and his heartening words. If that was not enough to bring me calm, I would have a bath and wear the red sari which had come to me, after I had worn it by mistake on the day of the spring festivities — that beautiful piece of silk — the soft red sari.

I did the same one morning. Unexpectedly, Devayani sent for me the same evening. The message was urgent and she asked me to bring my boy with me. I was baffled and did not even remember to change my clothes.

Had Devayani got scent of our secret love?

I was in a flutter when I got there. Devayani saw my red sari. I was glad she did not raise her brows. She had purposely sent for Puroo! The old palmist had returned to the capital.

This time Devayani had thought of a way to test his knowledge. She gave Yadu and Puroo similar clothes as if they were real brothers. She gave them a heap of toys and the children were playing in her room. While the children were engrossed in their toys, the palmist was sent for. He looked at their right hands, carefully over and over again. He looked at their left hands also. In
the end, turning to Yadu, he said, ‘This boy is unlucky!’

He lingered long over Puroo’s hand and said, ‘This boy will be a great king.’

To ridicule the palmist, she said, ‘You see they are brothers. They are both princes. How can their lives be so vastly different?’

The palmist calmly replied, ‘Your Majesty, Fate is a mysterious power!’

Just then His Majesty came in. Seeing His Majesty, Puroo started saying ‘da, da’ and was straining to go to him. Fortunately nobody understood the monosyllable of Puroo’s!

When the palmist was gone, without saying a word to His Majesty, Devayani said, ‘I have something for you. Let us go to His Majesty’s room and talk in peace.’

Devayani herself closed the door when we got there. I was rattled. Sitting on the sofa, she asked me in a harsh tone, ‘Sharmishtha, I hope you haven’t forgotten that you are my maid!’

‘I have not.’

‘I am the queen. If you defy me, you will have to bear whatever punishment I give you. I am going to hold court tomorrow. There, I am going to charge you with having an illicit liaison. There you will have to establish your innocence and purity.’

I was terrified and my insides turned. I resolved not to listen to another word of Devayani and leave, come what may. I ran to the door clutching Puroo at my breast.

‘Where are you going?’ These words of Devayani had me rooted to the spot. They had the uncanny power of an unscrupulous hypnotist.

I wanted to shout to His Majesty, that the secret which we had kept with such great difficulty would be exposed. I swallowed my pain and fear and stood still like a stone pillar.

Devayani beckoned to me to follow her. I followed her. She went to the east wall of the room. There must have been a secret door in it, as in Ashokavan! Devayani pressed a catch and a door opened. She ordered me to precede her in.

Like one spellbound, I descended the steps to the cellar. She herself came down slowly.

I did not know where she was taking me along the underground passage and what she had in mind for me. But it was not far to go. At the end of the passage was a cellar.

Devayani turned to me and asked me to go in. She added, ‘There is privacy in this cellar. You must make up your mind tonight whether you are going to divulge the name of your lover or not. Otherwise, there will be a proclamation in the town and a court in the evening at which your illicit liaison will be enquired into, and ...’

She paused and smiled. Her smile was full of the essence of deadly poison. ‘But don’t forget one thing. There is very little time now. Tell me the truth, tell me how your son came to have the markings of a future king on his palm?’

I calmly replied, ‘By the blessing of the sage.’

‘Then perhaps by another blessing of the self-same sage you will be able to disappear from this cellar!’

I retorted, ‘Why not? What is so improbable about it?’

I said what I liked, firmly determined not to yield to Devayani, come what may. But all my strength ebbed when she locked the door of the cellar.

I felt as if I had been in that cellar for ages. Puroo was frightened of the darkness and was crying. I covered him with my sari. Knowing that he was near his mother, the poor mite fell asleep in my lap, comforted.

Every minute was gnawing at me. Slowly, the darkness in the cellar lightened a little.

Suddenly a bright light flashed across the room. It must be the lightning outside. The flash through the window. The flash brought me courage. I was reminded of Kacha. In this encounter with death, I had his red sari on me, to remind me of him. I thought I was lucky. I calmed down. I lay down with Puroo by my side. Gradually I fell asleep.

I woke up at the creaking of the door. Somebody had opened the door of the cellar. I was torn between hope and fear. Could it be someone come to release me or ...?

Might it not be Devayani bringing me a cup of poison?

There was another big flash. In that light, I saw it was His Majesty.