Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust (19 page)

We quickly came up to the room. His Majesty pressed a catch somewhere in the south wall. He went ahead and I followed. In all this bustle, Puroo had woken up. He was calling ‘da, da’ to His Majesty. I put my hand on his mouth to stop him.

In silence and swiftly we walked through the underground passage to Ashokavan. His Majesty opened the door leading into the room. He said, ‘Do not stop here a moment longer. Don’t mention this even to your maids. Get into the chariot which is waiting outside. Madhav, my friend, will drive you in it. Go quickly. Hereafter I do not know where and how we will meet. But go quickly.’

Tears came to his eyes while talking. He kissed me with wet eyes. A few tears dropped on my cheek. He patted Puroo’s head and quickly shut the door of the passage.

My maids were scared. They had been looking for me. Without saying a word, I went to the chariot waiting outside. Immediately the chariot was on its way.

Before we were out of the town it was pouring. Soon, the earth put on a grim appearance. The chariot was still on the move. In the end, it stopped near an old dilapidated temple.

Madhav, sitting next to the charioteer and dripping wet, was calling me, ‘Your Majesty.’

I was thrilled by that word. Madhav said, ‘Your Majesty may get down here!’

‘Is that the order of His Majesty?’

‘Yes. I am taking the chariot straight back to the capital so that there maybe no suspicion anywhere of anything. Your Majesty should on no account return to the capital; there is danger in it.’

I got down with Puroo. The queen was being anointed by rain. Lightning was waving tufts of peacock hair before the future sovereign.

I asked Madhav, ‘Will you take a message to His Majesty?’

‘What?’

‘Sharmishtha will always worship His Majesty with all her heart. Even in face of death, she will always bow to his command and wherever Puroo maybe, the blessing of His Majesty should always be with him. By the blessings of His Majesty ...’

I could not speak anymore. I drew Puroo, who was dripping wet, closer to me and said, ‘Come, my little prince, come. Rain which brings new life to earth is your attendant. Lightning which lights up
the sky serves for a light in your mother’s hand. Come, you must be cooler than rain and more luminous than lightning.’

YAYATI

D
evayani’s first dance was over. Before it died down, there was a thunderclap. Even on our way from the palace to the dance hall, the sky had been overcast with dark clouds. I said to her, ‘Why didn’t you detain Sharmishtha for your dance?’ She smiled saying, ‘I did press her to stay, but she was not well. So she returned to Ashokavan in the evening.’

But my suspicions were not quelled. I could see a demon-like gleam in her eyes.

I whispered into Madhav’s ears. He rushed to Ashokavan with the chariot and made enquiries from Sharmishtha’s trusted maids. She had not yet returned. I was convinced that Devayani was planning something diabolical and would do away with Sharmishtha by treachery. Suddenly, the thought of the cellar where Alaka had been poisoned occurred to me. Every queen must, by tradition, be told about that cellar. How to set Sharmishtha free?

Devayani’s spring dance was beginning. Some of the great artistes present there had performed in the demon kingdom. King Vrishaparva himself had said: ‘If Devayani were here, none of your troupe would have dared to take the floor!’ Naturally, all were very keen to see her dance. At first she avoided it, but in the end her pride was aroused. It was now clear that Devayani would be in the dance hall till late into the night.

How beautiful, how delicate and how innocent Devayani looked, performing her spring dance.

Devayani gave an excellent exposition of a creeper bursting into leaf with the first whiff of spring, then blossoming into flower, and in the end, intoxicated by her own flowers, dancing to the tune of the spring breeze. In the end, the creeper twines round a tree nearby, rests her head on its shoulder and falls asleep in the bliss of love. How
delicately she had delineated this last episode.

Devayani was immersed in depicting the many hues of the sentiment of love through her spring dance. She was a woman in love. But I had never experienced this sweet side of her. I had rarely experienced in her embraces the intensity of Sharmishtha. Even in her kisses, I felt as if she was hiding something.

As an artist, she made a perfect lover, but she could never assume that role as a wife. Why should that be?

After the spring dance, she was going to
do a piece from the life of Uma. In it, beginning with Sati
[1]
in Daksha sacrifice, to
Parvati posing as a tribal and wooing Lord Shiva who had gone away in a fit of temper, there were many scenes. She was going to
depict all the situations in her dance.

I went in and told Devayani how exquisite her spring dance was. She smiled like an innocent maiden. At that time she was living in the world of art, a dedicated artist.

I stole out of
the dance hall. Madhav was waiting with the chariot. He left me at the palace and went straight to
Ashokavan. I bribed Devayani’s old maid and she talked. Sharmishtha was in the cellar. And not
alone. Puroo also. I shuddered.

There was no time to think. Every passing moment skirted the border between life and death. I hastened to take Sharmishtha out of the cellar and to Ashokavan. My heart broke when bidding farewell
to
Sharmishtha from top of the stairs.

And that little infant. My son, what was your
sin in the previous birth that as the scion of a king your
lot should be that of an
orphan born to
a criminal? Only earlier this evening the palmist had said that the lines in your
hand pointed to your
being a king. And barely two hours later, you
have to
leave town like the child of a roving beggar!

I yearned to
pick Puroo up once. But then parting would have been even more difficult. I steeled my heart and bid farewell to Sharmishtha, not with words but with my lips, eyes and tears.

On my way back to the dance hall, I selected a lovely gem encrusted necklace from my bedroom.

To give Devayani some rest, minor recitals had been interposed. Later, Devayani performed another dance. The spring dance had embodied budding love. Intense love had now to be shown which, Devayani did to perfection. I was troubled again with the same question. Where does all this intensity disappear in privacy with me? Like a live stream freezing, why does she turn cold in my arms?

Although the audience were carried away by the dance, I was unable to enjoy it. I was anxious for Madhav’s return. Why had he not come back? Had he perhaps been stopped on the way by somebody? No, that was not possible. He had the royal signet with him. Then why should he be so late?

A servant quietly brought back the royal signet and gave it to me. It was clear that Madhav had left Sharmishtha near the old temple far out of town. I was calm.

The monsoon dance was over. There was a thunder of applause. Devayani bowed with pride. I got up, put the necklace round her neck and said to the audience, ‘This is not a husband’s tribute to his wife; this little trinket is a token of appreciation to a unique artist on behalf of all of us.’

The dance hall echoed for a long time with applause and shouts of joy.

Devayani got up very late the next day. She got ready and came to my room. Standing at the window she said, ‘What a lovely morning. Come and see. I was very happy last night when you put the necklace on my neck.’ She added, ‘But I was not satisfied with the necklace.’

‘You can command any jewel you wish from the treasure of Kuber.’

‘I do not want that sort of a thing at all.’ She again gazed at the flowers in the garden and said, ‘Men do not understand women.’

She threw an enchanting smile and said, ‘There is one thing I would like! There are many lovely flowers in the garden. Your Majesty should gather them yourself. Masses of them. I will make a braid and a garland from them. Your Majesty, then shall I put the braid in my hair and I shall garland you. It is a childish wish, perhaps.’

I knew why she was sending me away. When I returned to the room, Devayani was not there. She had sent for the old maid and was closeted with her.

Later Devayani came to me. She looked downcast and bitingly asked me, ‘Did Your Majesty visit the palace during the dance last night?’

‘Yes, I thought of the bejewelled necklace after seeing your spring dance.’

‘Do you know that Sharmishtha has disappeared?’

The tables had been turned on Devayani. But I was to realise later in the day how transitory the joy of getting the better of her was.

The sun set and night was on its way. It was not stormy like yesterday. Night had given up the role of a raging fury and was entering her palace in the sky, like a coy maiden blushing with love. On her way, she was lighting starry lamps one by one.

Last night, I had felt happy in the belief that I had done something great in freeing Sharmishtha. That feeling was gone. The memory of the same night was troubling me over and over again with the question: ‘Where is the Sharmishtha in whose arms you found bliss? You cruel man, lying on a feather bed, have a thought for her. Open your eyes and see. That unfortunate one is sleeping on the floor, in a barren uninhabited place, with a stone as hard as your heart for a pillow. Her pillow is bathed in tears. You, her lover, who held her in an embrace, asking her if she was his, did not melt when deserting her in a storm. Her delicate lips and tender cheeks, which you kissed thousands of times with burning passion, are now exposed to the biting cold wind. Look, look carefully. How she is struggling to keep Puroo warm. And you? You are lying in your warm bed. Is this what your love of Sharmishtha amounts to? Is this your affection for Puroo? In your place, Kacha would have taken her to the Himalayas himself.

‘If Kacha was in your place?’

The reference to Kacha set me thinking of him. I was going to shoot at that beautiful bird. But Kacha stopped me.

My Puroo. He also is a tiny and beautiful innocent bird but last night I ...

That little girl in the hermitage. She was going to pluck a half open bud to give it to him. But Kacha stopped her.

My Shama. She was also just such a fragrant, half open bud. And last night, I ...

I was very restless. I drank some wine hoping to feel better. I did feel a little better. After sometime I calmed down and fell asleep.

But I had a horrible dream, making me feel that it would have been better if I had not fallen asleep:

In my dream there was nothing to see. It was just two voices. The first was mine. I knew that, but the second I did not know whose it was till the end. For a moment I thought it was Kacha’s. It was very harsh.

The latter was asking the first, ‘Did you love Sharmishtha? Did you really love her?’

The first said boastfully, ‘There is no doubt. If I were not in love with her, I would not have ventured to free her from the cellar last night.’

‘If you had followed her into the jungle, there would have been some sense in what you say. Love is a state of
mind in which you are willing to lay your life down for your love. Get up, even now it is not too late. Leave the palace. Go and find Sharmishtha, bring her back. Make her stand in front of Devayani and tell Devayani. “She has given me the love which every heart yearns for. She will remain here as my favourite queen.”

‘With a storm raging in pouring rain, without the slightest care for the dark future, Sharmishtha had the courage which ... You profligate. Selfish coward.’

They were not simple words. They were like hammer blows. I could not bear their impact. I sat up with a start.

If Devayani notices in the morning that I have been drinking? As it is, she is annoyed. It would add fuel to the fire. With difficulty, I controlled myself.

Devayani came in the morning with bad news. Madhav had suddenly been taken ill last night. He had a high fever now.

‘Don’t you know how your friend got ill?’

‘No, I don’t. He was with me the day before at your dance. He went away in the interval. I myself went looking for him, but could not find him.’

‘How could Your Majesty see him? They say he returned very late dripping wet.’

I arranged for the royal physician to see Madhav at once. Within the hour, I also went to see him. But I felt very depressed on the way. Is life just a circle of happiness and misery?

We stopped. There was a girl standing in the doorway. It was Taraka. How she had grown! She was no longer a mute bud. She looked like a bud blossoming into youth.

She blushed on seeing me and looked down. No more in the abandon of childhood, she was now on the threshold of youth. A moment later, she looked up. Her attractive eyes were like stars — pale blue like Venus — so near each other.

She quickly turned away and went in. Madhav was tossing about in his fever. The physician was sitting by him, feeling his pulse. He looked despairingly at me. I was taken aback.

A young woman came in with some medicine. I could not see her face. With the help of the physician, she gave him the medicine. I saw her from the rear, bending and sitting down. I thought I knew her, but there was no young woman in Madhav’s house. Madhav’s mother was old and Taraka’s mother had died sometime ago.

Madhav was delirious. She changed the cold compress on his forehead and turned to go into the house, when I saw her clearly. She was Mukulika.

Mukulika! Mother had driven her out of the town. But what had come to pass was not her fault alone.

With solicitude, I asked her, ‘How are you Mukulika? All is well with you, I hope.’

She came forward and bowing to me, said, ‘By your grace, Your Majesty, I am well.’

I remembered that night of Father’s impending death. Mukulika showed me the oasis. When our lips met, my fear of death just vanished. I was ashamed of myself, reminiscing of a love affair by a sick bed. Mukulika enquired after me and the prince which reminded me of Puroo.

Where will Puroo be now? What may Sharmishtha be doing? Sharmishtha, who as a child used pearls for sacred rice at her doll’s wedding, would now be begging at somebody’s door to feed the offspring of her flesh and love.

Noticing my silence, Mukulika got worried. She asked softly, ‘Have I said anything wrong?’

In an effort to hide my distress I said, ‘No, no, you are not in the wrong, I am. I have seen you after such a long time. I saw you tending a very dear friend. Even then, I did not enquire about you except formally. Tell me, how did you come here?’

She said, ‘I am in the service of a great sage. He was passing through here during his pilgrimage.’

She added, ‘In less than two hours after contracting a temperature Madhav was in a delirium. His mother lost her nerve. She beseeched the sage and he gave her sanctified ashes to put on Madhav’s head. Knowing that there was no one else in the house except Taraka he sent me here.’

‘I must see your sage sometime. If his dissertations bring peace of mind, I am greatly in need of it.’

Mukulika did not reply. She just smiled.

In bidding farewell I said, ‘Mukulika, Madhav is my second soul. Such a friend is not to be found anywhere in the world. Look after him as well as you can. I shall not forget your obligation.’