Yayati_ a Classic Tale of Lust - Khandekar, V S

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VISHNU SAKHARAM

KHANDEKAR (1898-1976) is

acknowledged as one of the all time

greats of Marathi literature. In his

literary career spanning nearly half a century he published eleven

novels, thirty one collections of

short stories, six collections of

allegorical stories and fifteen

volumes of critical literary essays.

In 1941 he became the President of

the Marathi Sahitya Sammelan andwas later nominated a Fellow of

India’s National Academy of

Letters, the Sahitya Akademi in



1975. His works have been

translated into several languages,

including English, Hindi,

Malayalam, Bengali and Gujarati,amongst others.

Yayati remains his best known and

perhaps his most criticallyacclaimed work. It won him the

prestigious Sahitya Akademi Award

(1960) and the Jnanpith Award,

India’s highest literary award, in

1974. He was conferred the Padma

Bhushan in 1968 for his landmark

contribution to Indian literature.

‘Artistic maturity and a high

seriousness of purpose make this

work a significant contribution to



Marathi literature.’

Sahitya Akademi Award Citation



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having won literary awards or

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YAYATIA Classic Tale of Lust

TRANSLATED AND ABRIDGED FROM

MARATHI BY

Y P KULKARNI

V S KHANDEKAR



www.orientpaperbacks.com

ISBN : 978-81-222-0428-5

Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust

© Mandakini V. Khandekar, 1978

Cover design by Vision Studio

Published byOrient Paperbacks

(A division of Vision Books Pvt. Ltd.)

5A/8 Ansari Road, New Delhi-110 002

Printed in India at

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Cover Printed at

Ravindra Printing Press, Delhi-110 006



Sharmishtha or even after the birth o

five sons from these two, says, ‘My lus

for pleasure is still unsatisfied,’ I jus

did not understand. On the contrary was angry with Yayati for robbing hi

son of youth. I had by then read the stor

of Babar praying to Allah by his son’deathbed, to bestow the remainder of hi

ife to his son Humayun. I had melted a

such parental love. If at that tender age

publisher had asked me for a novel, iwould certainly have been Babar an

not Yayati!

The story of Yayati did not reallynterest me as a tale until I rea

Shakuntala. There, when Shakuntal

eaves for her husband’s house Rish



Kanva blesses her thus: ‘May you be a

dear to your husband as Sharmishth

was to Yayati.’ These words stuck in my

mind but I did not agree that Sharmishthwas dearer to Yayati than Devayani

When Shukra curses him with old age, i

asking for his youth back, thmythological Yayati said, ‘I am not ye

fulfilled in my marital life wit

Devayani. I am yet unsatisfied. So hav

mercy and give me back my youth.’

The explanation that was offered di

not carry conviction. I felt that th

words, ‘May you be as dear to youhusband’ conveyed much more. In lif

all of us get married, but it does no

follow that we love each other ardently.



Kalidas agreed that Sharmishtha wa

very dear to Yayati. Only a wife who

successively treads the path of love b

charming her husband through physicapleasure, by inspiring confidence

showing respect and through devotio

makes him feel thus. But in the tale oYayati as given in Mahabharata, ther

was no such indication.

I was on the side of Kalidas. I wa

unable to reconcile myself to the pictur

as drawn in mythology. Sharmishtha had

made a great sacrifice for he

community. A woman, who could gohrough the ordeal of being maid t

Devayani who hated her, mus

undoubtedly be uncommon. It wa



mpossible that such a person would tr

o entice Yayati for gratification of sex

or that she would endear herself or ear

his respect by a clandestine love affair.

I got thinking. Devayani was marrie

o Yayati in the presence of the

sacrificial fire and before Brahmins. Budid their marriage connote a union o

hearts? It follows that Sharmishtha mus

have brought Yayati something which

Devayani was unable to give. He mus

have found happiness beyond sex an

ust from Sharmishtha. The tale o

Sharmishtha being very dear to Yayatmust have stemmed from this an

Kalidas had put it to good use

Following the trail of Kalidas’s words



started constructing Sharmishtha’s lif

on my own.

From the original story of Kacha an

Devayani, with due regard to the essenc

of it, I pieced together the reasons wh

he married life of Devayani and Yayat

was unhappy. Devayani was really iove with Kacha. He was her first an

ardent love. She married Yayati from

ambition. She made Sharmishtha he

maid to avenge herself. I hav

accordingly portrayed Devayani in thi

novel on the pattern of behaviour of

woman who is egoistic, ambitiousspiteful and disappointed in love.

This, in brief, is how the seed of th

character sketch of the two heroines



she appeared to me and have attempte

o paint her in my words.

So it is with Kacha. Thus it is tha

Yayati the novel is different from Yayat

he character in Mahabharata. Th

Kacha of Mahabharata who returns t

heaven after taking away the power oSanjeevani is never seen again in th

original. But here I have drawn a

maginary picture of his later life. He i

inked with Yayati, Devayani and

Sharmishtha in different ways. Althoug

one may think of Yayati to be the hero

his story really has two heroes like twheroines.

Sharmishtha, Devayani and Kach

engaged my mind for a long time fo



different reasons, but when I set out t

write Yayati, it was not because of them

The final inspiration came from th

character sketch of Yayati himself. I donot know if I would have written thi

novel, if in the decade 1942-51 I had no

been witness to the happenings in thworld and in our country — the strang

spectacle of physical advancement an

moral degeneration going hand in hand

f I had written it before 1942 it woulhave been a very different story. I would

hen have confined myself t

Sharmishtha’s love affair.The original portrait of Yayati in the

ahabharata is very representative

Yayati is symbolic of the common man



n the times gone by. Inspite of much

varied happiness, he is alway

dissatisfied and is blindly running i

pursuit of new pleasures. He does noknow the difference between happines

and enjoyment. Pleasure, momentar

animal pleasure, is mistaken for eternahappiness and he is pondering over how

o get it all the time. In his world o

emotion there is no other principle. Th

common man of today is groping likYayati in the twilight of a world in

which the old spiritual values have bee

swept away and new spiritual ones havet to be discovered. Blind pursuit o

pleasure is tending to be his religion.

In the case of the mythological Yayat



he idea of pleasure was limited to tha

with a woman. Not so today. The whol

world, made more beautiful an

prosperous by science, machine anculture is spread before us. The variou

nstruments of pleasure tempt us at ever

step, all the time. Every momenpassions are being moved and roused

This is leading to a degeneration o

social values and corruption of th

human mind. The loss is society’s whic feel very keenly about.

In this novel each character i

complex. Devayani is not simply wifand mother; she has a lust for powe

which guides her thoughts and actions

Sharmishtha is more than a romanti



nterest of the King. She is alway

guided by devotion and symbolise

sacrifice. Kacha is the spiritual guid

whose actions more than his speecserve to set the philosophical tone of th

novel, that personal relationships have a

imes to be subordinate to duty. Yayati ishe scholarly, valorous king whose lus

for pleasure overpowers all else.

would like the readers to keep this i

mind.

A good work of art can at anytime ris

o different heights ranging from artisti

entertainment, the play of emotionssocial education to exposition of lif

whether subtle or palpable. Only reader

can judge whether or not I have done so



V S Khandeka

195



YAYATIA Classic Tale of Lust



YayatiKing of Hastinapur, married

Devayani, the daughter of Maharish

Shukra, and her maid Sharmishtha.

ahusha

King of Hastinapur, father of Yati and

Yayati.

YatiElder brother of Yayati who became

an ascetic.

acha



Friend of Yayati, Devayani’s love and

brother (by affection) of Sharmishtha.

aharishi Angiras

Yati and Yayati were born by the

blessings of the sage.

evayani

Daughter of Maharishi Shukra, wife o

Yayati and mother of Yadu.

aharishi Shukra

Preceptor of the Asuras[1] and father oDevayani.

Sharmishtha

Daughter of Vrishaparva, the King othe Asuras, mother of Puroo.

Vrishaparva

King of the Asuras and father o



Sharmishtha.

1] In Indian mythology ‘asuras’ were the ‘non

gods’ or ‘anti-gods’ and feared as enemies o

the gods. Sometimes they are referred to a

demons, as in this story.



I

YAYAT

do not really know why I want to recounhe events of my life. Is it perhap

because I am a king? Am I really a king

o, I was a king.

The stories of kings and queens have wide appeal, in particular the fantasie

woven around their loves.

My life is also a story of love but, on



wonders about the content of the story.

realise that it is not great enough t

attract a poet to it. At the back of thi

history there is no pride, no ego and nexhibitionism. These are the tatters of

rich brocade. What is there left in it t

display?As the son of King Nahusha o

Hastinapur, I became a king after hi

death. That is neither to my credit nor t

my discredit. People will stare wit

curiosity at even the crow sitting ato

he palace dome!

How would life have moulded itself instead of a prince, I had been born i

he house of an ascetic? Would it hav

been as glorious as the starry night o



autumn or like a dark cold night of lat

winter? Who knows?

Would I have been happier if I had

been born in a hermitage? Much as

have tried, I cannot find the answer. I

would not have had the overtones of th

brightly coloured magnificent brocade ffor a king. Even with its rich overtones

not all the shades in that fabric of lif

please me.

Maybe I am obsessed with the story.

keep thinking of it. A passing pleasan

hought says, my story may serve t

show up to some the pitfalls of life anwarn them in time. Who does not know

he legend of the moon which, for the si

of being enamoured of the wife of hi



utor, was branded with spots for al

ime? Does not the world know tha

ndra — the King of the Gods — wa

punished with a thousand sores for hinfatuation for Ahalya’s beauty? Th

world errs, even realises the errors, bu

seldom learns from them.We are all a little wiser towards the

end of our lives and the wisdom ofte

comes from the pain suffered by oneself

A creeper has many flowers; some ar

offered to God in worship and so arous

devotion. Some adorn the lovely ringlet

of maidens and are silent witnesses the hours of love and pleasures indulge

n. The same is true of humans born i

his world. Some live to be old an



some rise to honour and fame and som

are crushed by poverty. But in the end

all these flowers fall to the ground an

are lost in the earth. That is theicommon lot.

In my life’s sojourn, a few thing

happened which are worth recallingMaybe I am mistaken in believing so bu

honestly do think so. The infant Yayati

he adolescent Yayati, Yayati the youth

and later Yayati the man were all of a

piece. But the Yayati as I see him today

s a little different. The physical identit

s the same but he now perceives whahe earlier Yayatis had failed to see. He

cannot resist the temptation to dwell o

his life, so that the world may come t



see, however faintly, through his eye

what he himself had failed to see.

* * *

have always been passionately fond o

flowers, even from early childhood. I aold that for hours on end, I used to b

window gazing on the blossoms in th

palace garden. My mother was amuse

at my childish ways and fondly told m

father that I had the makings of a grea

poet.

Father pooh-poohed the idea, sayingWhat ... a poet! And what would youn

Yayu get from being a poet? Poets can

only draw pretty word-pictures of th



beauties of the world. On the other hand

t is only the born soldier who drink

deep of the beautiful things of the world

Yayu must make a great soldier. Of ouancestors, King Pururava won the hear

of the most beautiful Apsara, Urvashi, b

his valour. I have defeated in battle evehe gods and have had the honour o

mounting the throne of Indra, the King o

he Gods. Yayu must uphold tha

radition.’

This was much later in life. There is on

unforgettable incident of that time whichaunts me. It is like the scar from an ol

wound. I did not understand it

significance till recently — but now,



am convinced that what in the earlie

stages of life are meaningless, come t

have real significance and deep meanin

owards the end of life.

Mother had among her maids

favourite, Kalika by name. I too wa

fond of her and sometimes dreamt of her never understood why. I was the

barely six. Once in play, she caught m

and took me in her arms. I struggled t

escape, when she pressed my head to he

bosom and said, ‘My little prince, yo

are getting naughtier everyday. I fed yo

as a baby. You were then a sweet docilekid, who returned my loving care, bu

now ...’

Clinging to her I said, ‘From now on,



am going to call you mother.’

She put her hand on my mouth an

said, ‘My little prince, the queen is you

mother. I am nobody. I am only a maid.’

I protested in petulance, ‘Why then di

Mother not feed me?’

For the first time that day I was angrwith my mother. I did not speak to he

all that day. At night she came to my bed

and gently called to me. She stroked mhead with the tenderness of a flower.

relented a little but did not speak.

would not open my eyes. In my agitatio

kept thinking that if I had the powers oa great ascetic to pronounce a curse,

would instantly turn my mother into

piece of stone.



The feel of a touch is more expressiv

han the spoken word, but it cannot sti

he heart as tears alone can do. I felt ho

ears on my cheek and broke down. opened my eyes. I had never before see

Mother crying and I was touched. I crep

up to her and with my arms round hersobbed, ‘Mother, what is the matter?’

She did not speak. She drew me t

herself and shed silent tears, stroking m

head for a long time.

I pressed her to tell me what wa

hurting her. In my innocence, I asked he

f her favourite bird had flown away twhich she said, ‘No,’ and added, ‘I am

worried about my other pet flying away.

‘Which is the other pet, Mother?’



In reply, she drew me closer until i

almost hurt and said, ‘Who else, m

son?’

She was holding me so tight that it hur

but it was also thrilling. I wiped he

ears with my little fingers and prattled

No, Mother, I shall never, never leavou.’

She echoed, ‘Never, never leave me?

Childhood is conscious only of thpresent and I repeated, ‘I am sure I shal

never, never leave you.’ I did not know

why the thought should even have com

o her and pressed her to tell me.In the end she said, ‘You have been

cross with me all day. You have no

spoken to me. Even now, though yo



were not asleep, there was no respons

o my calling. Why are you so cross wit

me? Yayu, my son, children canno

understand the grief of their parents. Bu beg of you that you will not follow i

his footsteps.’

‘Whose footsteps, Mother?’Mother and I were alone together an

Father was some distance away. Outsid

he door, a maid slept and even the low

flame in the golden lampstand wa

dimming. And yet, Mother looked a littl

scared and shaken. She got up an

closed the door. Then she took me in heap and said in a tremulous voice

Yayu, my son, I was not going to tel

ou till you were really grown up. Bu



brave to have gone away all by himself.

I again asked Mother, ‘When did h

go?’

‘At dead of night and into the forest,

she said. ‘I was awake till quite late i

he night, trying to dissuade him. I wa

ired and must have dozed off. When awoke again towards the morning, Yat

was not in his bed. The guards looke

for him everywhere but he was not to b

found.’

I said to myself, ‘What a worth

brother!’ Then the mystery of th

occurrence struck me again and I said tMother, ‘Where had you taken Yati?’

‘I had taken him to see a great rishi. I

was by his blessing that Yati was born



o me and I used to take him to seek th

rishi’s blessings every anniversary o

his birth. Once, when I was returnin

from the hermitage, Yati went away. Hewanted to stay at the hermitage and I wa

angry about it and spoke very harshly t

him.‘I brought him away by force. I did no

heed him or pause to think of what h

wanted ...’

In curiosity I said, ‘What did h

want?’

Amid tears she said, ‘I still do no

know what he wanted. He was deeplreligious and was at home with rishis

hermits and yogis. He immediately mad

friends with them. We have looked fo



him everywhere but like the meteorit

falling from the sky, my Yati is not to be

found anywhere.’

My mother was calmly narrating he

grievous loss but towards the end sh

broke down. In recalling the inciden

she seemed to be experiencing oveagain that cruel morning in the dens

frightening forest. Suddenly sh

stuttered, the words ceased and she wa

rembling. It was like the plaintive not

of a violin suddenly ceasing on a strin

snapping. I was frightened by her blan

ook. Then she heaved a sigh, drew mo her and wept bitterly. I could find no

words to console her.

‘I was frightened that like Yati, you



might leave us one day. Yayu, my son, a

child is the apple of his mother’s eye.’

I sobbed, ‘No, Mother, I shall no

eave you as Yati did. I shall do nothing

o hurt you.’

‘Sure, promise you will not,’ said

Mother.I clasped her hand and swore to her

Mother, I shall never, never turn a

hermit.’

still remember that night. I canno

recall today the effect this conversatio

had on my mind nor the thoughts tha

came to me. But one thing is certain. I

hat one single night I had matured. I

was an awakening from a world o



fantasy to one of fact. I had my firs

acquaintance with grief. I saw the floo

of tears in the eyes of my mother whos

mere caress was heavenly to meSubconsciously I grew to hate what ha

caused her pain.

I did not sleep well. I still remember pleasant dream in which as king of th

whole world, I stalked with a whip i

hand through every town and village

Every rishi, hermit and beggar that

came across I lashed with the whip.

Yes, I did grow up that night. I saw

clearly the form and content of life ihose few hours of pitch darkness. I ha

been kept in ignorance of the fact that m

elder brother had run away to turn



hermit — why this concealment?

Until this revelation came to me, I ha

ived in a fantasy world of bloomin

flowers, gentle rivulets and coo

breezes. I used to wake up in th

morning fresh like the new blooms in th

garden. I had no fear of an occasionastorm. It seemed to me that like the othe

elements, the wind sometimes turne

fierce. The ripples on the gently flowin

rivulet I imagined hummed a tune as

sometimes did. My world contained

neat array of dreams and butterflies

flowers and stars, peacocks dancing ahe sight of clouds and the clouds in tur

purring at that gorgeous sight, the brigh

smiling mornings with fresh blooms an



he eventides like the fading flowers, th

fresh greenery of the spring and th

rainbows of the monsoon, the resoundin

of the hooves of horses and the tinkle ohe temple bells, the soft sand of th

riverbank and the soft cushions on th

divan. Until that night, nature and mahad been one in my eyes.

Such had been my world till that night

t was a beautiful dream. If I was upse

at anything, all that was necessary wa

o go up a tree and think of God. Suc

was the faith that He would answer th

call and instantly come down in persoo punish the guilty.

No matter how sweet or mysterious i

was, it was still the tiny world of a bu



et to blossom. That world had not ye

awakened to the humming of the bees

The soft caress of the golden warm ray

of the sun was foreign to it. The bud hanot opened to look on the vast expans

of the sky. It had not yet known even in

dream the entrancing grace of the carvemage of the Goddess or the lure o

black tresses, the crowning glory of

beautiful maiden. A bud cannot foreve

remain a bud. Blossom it must intmaturity.

Yes, I did grow up that night. I said to

myself, someday I must find Yati andbring him to Mother and say to him, ‘A

he elder brother, this throne is yours b

right. Take it. At least now let us have



he satisfaction of sharing what is ours

ike children sharing sweets.’

* * *

was now six and as a prince it wa

necessary for me to acquire the Letterand the Arts. Father arranged for m

uition. At first I did not take kindly to

my tutors. My gymnastics tutor appeare

o me an ungainly giant. His size an

physique alone seemed sufficient t

ustify his selection. He would make m

exercise hard from the crack of dawn. Afirst, the body ached all over. I appealed

o my mother against all this. Sh

consoled me with the words, ‘The futur



king must bear with all this.’ In th

beginning, I invariably came off th

worse in wrestling and I despaired o

ever becoming proficient at it, but mutor reassured me. He said, ‘When

was your age, I was soft like butter. Bu

ook at me now. I am hard as steel.’

At the age of fourteen, I was onc

standing before a mirror. I was deeplabsorbed in admiring the grace an

beauty of my form. Impulsively, I fel

ike shaking that strong well knit arm an

even resting my head on it.I was suddenly reminded of th

picture portraying Indra restin

peacefully on the arm of his wif



ndrani, after he returned from battl

with Vritra.

Such thoughts are intoxicating lik

wine and I do not know how long I stoo

before the mirror in admiration

Someone was talking and I looked roun

n surprise. It was Mother saying, ‘Mealso love to look at themselves for hour

.. do they? I had thought it was onl

women who were vain about their form.

She had apparently mistaken me fo

Father and added, ‘Yayu has grown up

now. What would he think, if he saw

his?’On seeing me, she said, ‘Yayu, my

son, how you have grown overnight!

pray that I myself do not cast the evi



eye! You were standing with your back

o me and for a moment I thought it wa

our father before the mirror ...’ Sh

said, ‘I am now relieved of one anxiety.

Mother stopped suddenly. Tears came

o her eyes and I said, ‘You are the

Queen of Hastinapur. You are not thewife of a poor hermit or a wretche

menial. What cares can you have?’

‘You forget my son ... that I am a

mother.’

‘True, but you are my mother.’ I said

my’ with pride and glanced at th

reflection. Mother also saw it ansmiled. In an instant she turned grav

and said, ‘That maybe, but for me

whose cup of nectar was once turne



nto poison, it is but natural that I shoul

be nervous about the other.’ Mother wa

obviously referring to Yati. I said

Mother, you get me the permission and shall ransack the earth in search of Yat

and bring him to you.’

She said, ‘Child, how can you finYati? If he suddenly returned and stood

n person before me, even I may no

recognise him. Then how will you wh

have never seen him. I wonder where h

s, how he is, what name he bears, and

ndeed, if he is there at all ...’

She could say no more — Yati’sdeparture had left behind a deep scar

That scar she carried secretly and woul

not bare even to Father. That I had a



elder brother who had left in th

aspiration of becoming a great rishi,

had almost forgotten.

She looked gravely at me and said

Yayu, my son, you have grown before

our time into a man and acquire

proficiency in the Letters and the ArtsWe must now find you a bride. It wil

make me very happy ... I shall speak t

Father today.’

Except with regard to Yati, Fathe

always gave in to Mother. She wa

never denied anything. Once, one of m

utors suggested to Father that I shoulreside in a hermitage for a few days

Father agreed saying, ‘You are right ...

ree needs both rain and sunshine for it



proper growth.’ This happened in m

presence and I was stunned. My distast

for the hermit’s life has grown everyda

since understanding came to me. I wanever able to fathom why God Shiv

was so impressed with the long years o

penance of a hermit as to bestow on hihe divine power to bless or curse. M

education was mostly directed to th

worship of beauty and strength. Thes

have no place in a hermit’s life. Therecorporal suffering is an article of faith

Wild herbs and roots are to them

delicacy and the chanting of hymns iheir only war cry. Peeling fruit and

cutting vegetables is to them wha

hunting is to others and the lowly hu

serves for a palace. The maids of th



palace were apsaras[1] by compariso

with their womenfolk. All these thought

crowded in on me and I was uneasy a

he prospect of going to a hermitage.

When Father and the tutor talked abou

t again the next day, I listened in from

behind a closed door. My heart wabeating wildly. In the end Father only

said, ‘I also think it would be better i

Yayu went into a hermitage but hi

mother does not agree.’ My mothe

saved me that day but was now puttin

me into new difficulties by planning m

marriage.I was unable to sleep in peace even o

my soft bed, tired though I used to be i

body and mind. I would wake up with



start. Dreams of valour in fierce battle

between the gods and the demon

disturbed my sleep. My great grandfathe

Pururava was a mighty unconquerehero. He had made Urvashi his quee

after fighting the demon who ha

kidnapped her. I had in my childhoodearnt by heart the epic in which hi

prowess was sung. My father Kin

ahusha was no less brave. Early in lif

he vanquished the tribals known aDasyus and gave protection to the rishis

Later, it is said, he even defeated th

gods and acquired Indra’s kingdom. was obsessed with a desire to emulat

hem by unique and unparallele

heroism, while there was mothe

hinking of marrying me off, lest



emulate Yati.

‘At your birth, a great astrologe

forecast your life.’

‘What then did the quack forecast fo

me?’

I could see from her face that she di

not relish this remark. She was silent foa while and said, ‘Yayu, my son, the

astrologer said this child is destined t

great good fortune. He will be King anwill come by all kinds of pleasures. Bu

he will never be happy.’

I laughed at this nonsense of th

astrologer. In the end I said to Mother

Mother, later, if you wish, I shall marry

a hundred times but today, I am not afte

ove. I wish to show my prowess. I d



not want to loll in a boudoir. I want to

engage in battle. They say the gods an

he demons are spoiling for a fight. Le

me join it. If Father so wishes, let hiurn loose the victory horse. I wil

accompany it right round Aryavarta

When I return victorious after destroyinhe enemy I can think of marriage.’

I did not realise how much I ha

changed during my student days. Like

stream adapting itself to the contours o

ts surroundings, my mind had rapidl

changed a great deal. In learnin

archery, I, for the first time, experiencedhe unique satisfaction of intense co

ordination of the eye and the mind. I

childhood, the sight of the rich variety o



colour in the garden used to thrill me

But the experience of sighting the targe

n archery was quite the opposite

Everything except the target ceased texist. The purple of the hills, the gree

of the trees and the blue of the sky in th

perspective were forgotten. There waonly the black spot there. The smal

black spot, the target of my arrow wa

all that existed for me in that instant.

This new experience was als

hrilling. I was soon an adept at hitting

without fail, inanimate objects. It wa

naturally followed by live targets. Thawas so many years ago but the joy of tha

first shot, which unerringly found its liv

arget, still vibrates in the mind. It was



bird quietly perched on the tall branch o

a tree. It made a beautiful picture frame

against the deep blue of the sky. Ever

moment one felt that in the next instanhe picture would come to life and tak

o its wings. The sun was setting in th

west. Somewhere in a nest her littlfledglings, perhaps without their wings

must be waiting for her. But my tutor and

were hardly concerned with her broo

or their fate. I wanted to be proficient iarchery and the tutor’s livelihood hun

by his teaching. I suffered intense agon

shooting at that innocent little bird anhat shot snapped my intimat

association with nature. Till then, at th

bottom of my heart, I was a poet. Tha

nstant the poet in me was dead.



Mother herself cooked that meat an

served the delicacy to Father and me

Father certainly relished every morse

and was all admiration. But I had t

make an effort to bring myself to eat i

At night I woke up three or four time

and once, I imagined I heard the shrilcry of the bird in mortal agony. Once

woke up with the chirping of her littl

ones. Mother was still brooding over th

oss of her offspring many years ago bu

he same mother could cheerfully loo

upon the death of a mother bird. She ha

admiration for her son who had killehat innocent bird. She could partake o

he dead mother’s meat with relish.

was baffled by this contradiction in life.



The next evening the elderly Prim

Minister called and I put my puzzle t

him. He pointed out that life is no

sustained by mercy but by power. Hold me many tales from mythology an

nteresting stories of beasts and birds

The central theme of all was this: Thworld is sustained by the struggle fo

power, lives on rivalry and conflict and

strives for sensual pleasure.

From that day I turned a devotee o

power. To my mind cruelty and bravery

were twins.

My bravery was soon to be put to th

est. Tales of the conflict between god

and demons often came to Father



sometimes from Devarishi Narad an

sometimes from others. The desire t

fight on the side of the gods and to defea

and crush the demons, so as tdemonstrate to my people the prowess o

heir future king was strongly borne i

upon me quite frequently. But Fathedisliked the idea of siding with the god

or the demons.

I often tried to investigate the cause o

father’s aversion to both from the ol

Prime Minister but his stock answe

was, ‘Everyone gets to know things i

heir own good time. After all, trees donot grow leaf, flower and fruit al

ogether.’ I then thought I should satisfy

my craving for the battlefield in othe



catch it where he could and mount it. H

hen had to go round the course fiv

rounds and dismount without stoppin

he steed. For every contestant a freshorse was brought in.

I liked the sport but it was meant fo

he common soldier. Nobody wouldhave liked the prince to participate. Wit

a pang of disappointment at heart, I wa

sitting by my parents eagerly watchin

he sport. Four times the horse ha

hrown the rider before he coul

complete the course. I looked at the fift

one cantering in. He had the appearancof a great and graceful giant. You could

see in every eye fear, wonder and

admiration. He was being led to th



course by six attendants but he wa

defiant and neighed loudly. He wa

pawing the earth with his powerfu

hooves. He would throw up his heascattering and ruffling the mane, whic

hen looked fearful like the white unrul

hair of an angry rishi, poised fopronouncing a curse. Looking at him,

wild desire welled in me and my hand

began to itch. Excited, I was stampin

he ground. Every atom in my body wahrilled into action like the dancing jet

of a fountain.

I looked at Mother and saw deepfright in her eyes. She whispered t

Father, ‘Ask them to take this hors

away. He is frightening. There will b



an accident, spoiling the last day of th

celebrations.’

Father smiled and said, ‘The life o

man is dedicated to prowess.’ I closed

my eyes to understand the implication o

what my father had said. There was

errifying scream from the spectatorsWhen I opened my eyes, I saw that th

contestant had failed. He had bee

hrown and the horse was gallopin

away. Two or three others tried but th

horse was intractable. The entire aren

was held in fright. There was a dee

roaring in my ears urging me to arise anreminding me that the life of man i

dedicated to prowess. It said, ‘Arise

Yayati. You are the future King of



Hastinapur. A king may have no fear

Otherwise, it will be the talk of th

own, that Hastinapur has been subdue

by a horse. The gossip will reach thgods and the demons. You are the son o

he brave King Nahusha.’

That shook me. I stood up and wamoving forward when I was held firml

by two tender arms. I turned round. I

was Mother.

I roughly thrust her hands away an

umped into the arena. A sea of men

surrounded me but they seemed fixe

ike stone carvings and were soon out omy mind.

All I could see was the wild horse. H

ooked defiantly at me. He appeared t



challenge the might of the Nahusha kings

Gradually I was getting nearer to him

The feeling arose in me that he was n

horse but a mere rabbit, and his manooked like a rabbit’s fur.

While I was thus entranced a shril

voice seemed to warn me. ‘You foolwhere are you going? It is the Valley o

Death.’

I shouted back, ‘No, it is not. It is no

he Valley of Death but the Peak o

Fame. It is a high peak but I am going t

climb to the top. See, here I am alread

at the top.’I have no recollection of the sequenc

of events and the next thing I distinctl

remember is that I was firmly in th



outh had come true.

These were the nuances of my wil

houghts. I did not even realise that th

horse was foaming at the mouth and tha

his speed had slackened. My min

warned me to be cautious. The fifth wa

o end a little beyond where Father anMother were sitting. I moved near t

heir seats, I wanted to see the glow o

my mother’s face. The temptation wa

great and I looked back just as I wa

passing them.

That one instant of temptation wa

near fatal. My grip on the saddle mushave slackened and before I knew wha

was happening, I had been thrown fro

he saddle. The bitter revenge of tha



dumb animal was concentrated in tha

one act. For an instant, while I was i

he air, I could hear shrill but plaintiv

cries from the crowd. The next moment was deep in the abyss o

unconsciousness.

When I came out of that frightful abyss

all I saw was a mild solitary ray of light

did not know where I was.I was suddenly jogged int

remembrance. Then followed pai

coursing through the head and limbs

Like a dried leaf in high wind, I had thaday been flung into the air. Was

perhaps maimed from the accident? Wh

otherwise can I not get up? I put my righ



hand to the forehead. There was a col

pack there. I must have been in fever

With all my strength I shouted, ‘Mother!

I heard the jingling of bangles. It mus

be Mother coming to me. I strained m

eyes to see, but it was not Mother. It wa

someone else. Was I mortally hurt in thaaccident? Am I in my bed or at the doo

of death? I could not make out. I looke

steadily at the figure standing by my bed

Has death such a beautiful form? Wh

hen is man afraid of death? I heard

voice calling, ‘Prince?’ It was Alaka.

Her voice was shaky. For eight dayhe sun had risen every morning and se

every evening, but I was not consciou

of it. Where was I those days? What di



do then? I was baffled. I thought I wa

a different person but with the sam

form. But ‘I’ could not recall a singl

moment of those eight days.

I asked of my mother and Alaka said

Her Majesty is in her room. She ha

given up eating since that day. Yesterdaywith great misgiving she came to see yo

and fainted at the sight. The physicia

has ordered her rest in bed.’

She added, ‘The physician has bee

watching over you night and day. A little

while ago, he danced with joy on feelin

our pulse and said, “Alaka, I feared thamy skill was going to fail me an

disgrace my grey hair. But now th

prince is out of danger. He wil



probably regain consciousness abou

midnight or early morning at the latest

You must keep awake till he does so

See that the pack on his forehead is kepcold.” ’

Suddenly, she remembered something

She quickly moved away and returned the bed. By now, I could see a littl

better. Was it Alaka standing by my bed

— Perhaps not. It was a fairy standin

by me.

I smiled at the thought. Is beauty als

subject to tides like the sea? Wh

knows? But Alaka was every momenooking more and more beautiful. I wa

gazing at her. She was flustered and

murmured, ‘What is the matter with me



brought medicine to put it on the pac

and forgot about it. Please close you

eyes.’

‘Why?’

‘This medicine is very strong. Th

physician has strictly warned me that no

a drop must go into the eyes.’‘But my eyes will not shut.’

‘Why?’

How could I tell her that I wanted tkeep looking at her? She might not lik

t. Her mother had fed me at her breas

She had brought me up in her lap. Eve

Father respected Kalika and as fo

Mother, she looked on her as a nea

relation. Mother used to say Kalika too

greater care of me than she herself had



With Kalika’s daughter —

Alaka said, ‘If you do not close you

eyes now, I shall stop even talking to

ou.’ Those childish words brought m

childhood back to me. It was as if th

waters of the river which had flown int

he sea had receded again.I quickly closed my eyes. Alaka wa

wetting the pack drop by drop. Ther

passed before my eyes the gradua

ransformation in many forms, from th

childish Alaka refusing to talk to me to

he Alaka now in attendance on me, nea

my bed. The bud was the same but iblossoming everyday it assumed mor

attractive and pleasing forms. Ever

form of Alaka that I saw was attractiv



n a different way.

Alaka had grown up in the palace wit

her mother. But till today, she had no

attracted me so much. Why should it be

reminisced we were playmates till

was six. Then we parted. As prince,

strutted about the palace, the town, thcourt and the festive celebrations. Sh

was a maid’s daughter and hung back

She ran little errands in the palace. I wa

destined to be a king and a worl

renowned warrior. She was destined to

be a maid in eternal service o

somebody. That is why our ways partedA heavenly fragrance intoxicated me

My eyes were still closed. I slowl

ifted my right hand. Alaka was bendin



over and carefully pouring the drops o

medicine. One of her tresses wa

rubbing against my cheek. I felt that loc

of hair with my hand and that soft toucsent a thrill through my whole body.

knew that Alaka would suddenly mov

away from embarrassment if I openemy eyes. Eyes closed, I said, ‘Alaka

where is this delicious fragrance comin

from?’

‘It comes from the jasmine flowers i

my braid.’

‘Let me smell them where they are,’

said. Alaka did not reply. I added, ‘Iou do not let me smell them in you

hair, I shall scream. Then, they will al

wake up and ...’



‘If you scream, they will all rush i

panic and Mother will take me to tas

saying, “You wretch, can’t you even

make a good attendant?” She will hanme for it.’

‘Don’t you think,’ I said, ‘it would b

better to let me smell the flowers in youhair than be hanged? They say a goo

deed should be done on time.’

All the flowers in the garden of Ede

must have contributed their share o

fragrance to those jasmine flowers.

was intoxicated by the fragrance o

Alaka’s hair. Apart from the flowers, thefeel of her hair on my nose and cheek

was the height of pleasure.

I forgot myself when I realised tha



Alaka was withdrawing. I opened m

eyes. She was moving away. I said, ‘

have not had enough. I must have more .

much more still.’

Before I realised what I was doing

my arms were round her and our lip

met. Delicious is not the word — heips were full of nectar. Like th

raveller in the desert, my lips were dry

was dying with thirst. I drank deep o

hat nectar. I kept demanding for mor

and more of it. I was only conscious o

one fact. I was swimming in happines

but its waters were not deep enough.The nectar of which I had drunk dee

was burning me like poison. 1 had t

have more nectar to quench it.



I was struggling to my feet. There wa

a shooting pain in my right leg and like

bird shot down, I screamed in agony an

fell back on my bed.

t took me three or four months to ge

over my accident. But my piercinscream of that night brought joy to th

palace. Everyone was heartened that

had regained consciousness and hapractically come to life from dead. Th

old physician, in fact, rushed into m

room and wept with emotion like

child.

I was soon rid of my fever. But, th

njury to the bone was more intractable

The physician had, however, imported



from East Aryavarta a tribal known fo

his skill in bone setting. He set it wel

and there was no defect left, but thos

hree or four months were very difficufor me. I was irritated with my disabilit

when I saw birds flitting outside th

window. I felt like going out of thwindow in the manner of a bird withou

caring for the consequences. My hand

tched at the sound of a horse and th

highs strained for a mount. I did noknow where to wreak my irritation at th

disability. In annoyance, I would gaze a

my limbs. I had spent every day of teong years to cultivate a strong an

beautiful body but it had failed me

There is no limit to a man’s love of hi

body but the body does not reciprocate



ndeed, on occasion, it lets him down.

Lying in bed, I tried to discover wha

was it that the body was antagonistic to

but never succeeded. I often though

here was a Yayati in me, different and

distinct from the body. But how was on

o understand the nature of that otheYayati? I knew that mind, heart and

ntellect were not parts of the body bu

had their separate identity. In the eigh

days of my unconsciousness, when wit

he rare drugs given to me, I would hav

quietly swallowed even poison, wher

was my mind? And the intellect? And thheart? There was no answer. I wa

completely in the dark.

When, in exasperation, I gazed at m



imbs, something whispered into my ear

You are wrong. Has your body alway

been your enemy? What about th

pleasure of that night, when you kisseAlaka? Was it not made possible by

our body alone?’

That night was a sweet immortadream. The thought of it made me forge

all pain in my life. Even the bright su

outside was obscured in the memory o

hat night and it all came vividly back t

me, like the indelible impression of

oung maiden, setting out for worshi

with an oil lamp. That maddeninfragrance of the jasmine flowers, th

softness of Alaka’s tresses, the

sweetness of her lips — the memory o



t all was thrilling.

Together with this sweet memory o

Alaka, there was another which serve

o bring me happiness. The tribal wh

set the bone had travelled widely i

Aryavarta. He recounted enchantin

ales of the caves, forests and cities, thsea and the hills, the old temples and th

men he had come across. From thos

ales I conjured up a beautiful dream.

In my dream I was escorting th

sacrificial horse let loose in challenge o

supreme sovereignty. In the end

returned as the victorious heroconquering the world and at the head o

he maidens waiting to worship me wa

Alaka with the oil lamp.



I was well again. I mentioned m

dreams to the Prime Minister and m

utors. They all liked the idea and inspit

of Mother’s protests Father announcehe sending forth of the victory horse.

I still remember those days!

* * *

was away for nearly eighteen month

escorting the horse. Everywhere I saw

he grandeur of this ancient sacred land

was enriching my mind with th

countless folk songs sung to her glory the tune of the elements. I stored in m

eyes the ever new folk dances. We firs

headed north, then west, south and east



How exquisitely pretty was th

countryside everywhere. With th

changing seasons the land wore a new

attractive garb and was bedecked witvarious ornaments. Sometimes I though

he motherland was standing before m

n person. The rivers and streams likets of milk, flowing from her breasts

he mountains. The thought that it wa

his milk which sustained her childre

was thrilling.

We were challenged in only a few

kingdoms. Father had in his time put aw

nto the whole of Aryavarta by hibravery. It was the victory horse of tha

very King Nahusha who had defeate

ndra. Who dared challenge it? Thos



who thoughtlessly threw a challeng

soon learnt that Yayati was the worthy

son of a worthy father.

I was extremely happy in all suc

minor conflicts. I was an adept hunte

and bagged with ease most kinds o

animals. But the joy of vanquishing aarmy which is as well armoured as you

own, is quite different. It is on suc

occasions that a warrior is reall

nspired. Victory in war is more head

han hunting. It was that kind of head

victory that I was aspiring to. When

had risked my life during the festivitiest was because I had realised th

ntoxication of victory, but after all, tha

was only a victory over an animal.



I was often unable to sleep during th

campaign. Not that I was restles

hinking of Mother or somethin

mportant. It was an undefined worrhat dispelled sleep. I was weary. Just a

one lively horse of a chariot takes t

gallop unmindful of his slow mate, sdid my mind ignore the weary body an

ndulge in wild fantasies. It used t

dwell on things like death, love, religio

and God. It was difficult to free myselfrom the web of that maze. Every ato

of my body wanted above all, ‘to live.

At this, the mind would intervene withe question, ‘Why then are yo

escorting the victory horse? You maybe

challenged, when there will be a fierc



battle and you may fall on the battlefield

Why should you, who wants to live, g

where death is disporting wildly?’

It was impossible to settle thi

paradox and then even a couch o

flowers pricked like a bed of thorns.

would stroll out, gaze at the stars and bsoothed by the cool fresh breeze. Th

mango trees in the adjacent grove woul

rustle in a whisper and the charwa

birds in the pond nearby could be hear

wailing for each other. The mind wa

enchanted with such touching music.

Gradually peace and quiet wouldescend on me. The birds would have b

hen been stilled into silence and ther

was no sound of movement or flutter



The peace of the surrounding woul

nspire me to utter words of prayer.

would say them softly. In the end with

folded hands, refreshed in mind ancontented, I would look around at th

expanse of heaven and earth in front an

fervently say, ‘Peace and goodwill oEarth.’ Then sleep would enfold me i

her fine silken garb and sing a lullaby.

I valued this peace at night, just a

much as the pleasure derived from th

rough and tumble of the day. I could not

however, reconcile the two. While I wa

escorting the horse, time was movinapace. In this roving life I experience

n many different forms both peace an

ntoxication.



I cannot describe the many varie

forms in which peace and exhilaratio

came to me during these wanderings

There was the luscious green graswhich looked like fur standing up, as i

n ecstasy, and the tall stout deodar tree

proudly poised as if to uphold the skyThere was the gentle drizzle of rain lik

Ganges water sprinkled by the priest i

blessing and there was the downpour

ike jets of water thrown up by aelephant. There was the tiny lovel

butterfly which, descending on th

finger, looked like a ring set in precioustones. The lofty minarets of temples an

he inviting houses of dancing girls. Th

all twenty foot statues of the warrior



and the delicately carved figures o

oung maidens on the walls of caves.

I went to see one such figure of

ovely woman. My escorts were al

outside. The figure was exquisitel

beautiful. It was the figure of Rati, th

Goddess of Love in mourning, wheLord Shiva had destroyed Madan, th

God of Love. I gazed at it for a lon

ime. Her sari had strayed a little. He

resses were hanging loose. I forgot tha

t was a lifeless figure. And before

knew what I was doing I kissed tha

beautiful figure passionately on thmouth. If it were not for the cold feel o

he stone which brought me to my senses

would have gone on doing



t and gradually I lost consciousness o

all other sounds. Every moment was lik

an hour.

A vague sound came to my ears.

hought it was a bubbling sound and wa

electrified. You could see nothing and

had to aim by sound. When hit, thanimal would squeal. I had decided t

shoot quickly in succession in the sam

direction on hearing the squeal.

I shot an arrow. The sound of it

mpact on the target and a harsh huma

voice came to my ears together.

‘Who shot the arrow? You sinnercome forward. Otherwise ...’

Even a squirrel could not have go

down as quickly as I did. I walked in th



direction of the sound. The forest wa

hinner by the side of the pond and I saw

n the faint moonlight, a human being. H

seemed like a ghost. I hastened to fall ahis feet without looking up. Suddenly th

figure fell back with the words, ‘I mus

not be touched by a sinner.’‘I am no sinner, Sire, I came for th

ove of hunting, thought I heard a

elephant drinking and shot the arrow.

am a Kshatriya. Hunting is enjoined o

me by my religion.’

‘You dare talk of religion to me, an

ascetic under vow. I am a BrahmachariTell me the truth. Have not your lip

been sullied by contact with those of

woman. You can touch my feet only i



ou are pure in that respect.’

I dared not tell a lie. The memory o

my passionately kissing Alaka that nigh

was vivid before my eyes. This asceti

must be omniscient and he would at onc

know whether I was telling the truth. H

would blast me with a curse. I hundown my head. The yogi harshly name

me a profligate.

The yogi said, ‘I have no time t

waste on a degenerate person like you

n the early hours after midnight, I finis

my morning ritual and sit in prayer.’

knelt before him, folded my hands ansaid, ‘Sire, I crave your blessing.’

‘I am not simple like Lord Shiva t

bless anyone and everyone. How can



bless you without knowing who yo

are?’

‘I am a Prince.’

‘Then you are unworthy of a blessing.

‘Why?’ I asked in trepidation.

‘Because you are a slave to you

body. The greater the status, the greatehe degradation of the soul. Ever

moment he succumbs to the anima

pleasures. He enjoys to his fill thfragrance of flowers and the perfume o

scents. He rules over his subjects but i

ruled by his senses. A woman is the

epitome of all pleasures, that is why wascetics look upon her as utterl

forbidden. Prince, go your way. If yo

wish to be blessed by me, renounce al



worldly things and come to me. Then ...’

‘But, Sire, I have promised that I shal

never turn an ascetic.’

‘Why?’ asked the ascetic in curiosity.

‘My elder brother ran away as a chil

o renounce the world. Mother has stil

not forgotten her grief.’‘You are ...’ ‘Yayati of Hastinapur.’

Your brother?’ ‘Yati.’

‘Follow me,’ said the ascetic andstarted off. A little later when he looked

back, I had not moved. He said a littl

softly, ‘Yayati, your elder brother i

asking you to follow him.’

Fear, like hope, prompts all kinds o



deas. I had met Yati for the first time.

should have been glad at the unexpecte

meeting. But I was chilled by his words

did not know what to say to him in hicave.

We soon arrived there. It was a

straggling cave with its opening covereby thorns. It was when Yati pushed them

aside that I realised it was a cave. A

iger growled. I instinctively put m

hand to the bow and arrow. Yati turned

back and smiled. He said, ‘No, that ha

no use here. He growled because h

smelt your presence. Otherwise he liehere like a rabbit. I make friends of wil

beasts wherever I go. They are pure

han human beings.’



Yati patted the tiger’s head and i

started playing with him like a kitten.

We were now well in the interior o

he cave. There was an unusual glow o

ight there. I looked round and saw

masses of fireflies. There was a cobr

quietly curled up in every corner, withe jewel in its hood sparkling. To th

right, Yati pointed to his bed.

I looked down. A small stone served

for pillow and the thorny creepers at th

entrance served for a mattress.

shuddered that Yati slept in such a bed

He was my elder brother. Why had hrenounced all the royal pleasures for thi

kind of life? What pleasure was there i

t? What was Yati going to gain in the



end? What was he in search of?

Yati picked up a deerskin lying nea

he bed and spread it on the uneve

ground for me to sit on. He himself sa

on his thorny bed.

Yati’s philosophy of life and the cave

had deadened my feelings. Otherwiseon my meeting him for the first time,

would have embraced him, wept on hi

shoulder and insisted on taking him t

Hastinapur to meet Mother. But as i

aware that this was not possible, I sa

here like a dumb animal.

Then for something to say, I saidMother will be very happy to see you.’

‘There is only one abiding happines

n life ... eternal happiness. Worldly



pleasures end in unhappiness ... be it th

pleasure of touch or sight. The body i

man’s greatest enemy. It is the prim

duty of man to strive persistently fomastery over the body. Look at the fruit

eat.’

I took the fruit he offered and broke small piece and ate it as a sacramenta

offering. It was bitter and the bitternes

must have been reflected in my face. H

said, ‘Man loves sweet fruit. Indulgenc

n them leads to a craving. It is thi

ndulgence which makes man the slav

of his body. Man’s love of the bodydeadens his soul. It is only continenc

hat awakens the soul. I eat these bitte

fruit with relish to attain tha



continence.’

He picked up one and ate

nonchalantly. The small piece in m

mouth remained there. If I could hav

gone out of the cave, I would have spat

out.

Yati and I were brothers. But therwas a deep chasm between us. I coul

see it clearly now. I was emboldened to

ask, ‘How did you turn to asceticism s

oung?’

‘Renunciation dawned on me in th

hermitage of the same ascetic by whos

blessing I was born. Mother had takeme to him. She was fast asleep but I ha

dreams. I came out of the hut an

stealthily stepped across to another on



nearby. The disciples were talking and

heard them saying, “The children o

King Nahusha will never be happy.” ’

I was startled by these words. I wa

also King Nahusha’s son. ‘Why should i

be so?’ I asked.

‘There is a curse on him cast by great rishi. I was warned by the word

of those disciples and I decided to be

happy hermit rather than an unhapp

prince. I wandered into the Himalaya

and found a guru. Now, you had bette

go. It is past time for meditation. I shal

show you the way out and ...’I tried to persuade him to let me brin

Mother to see him, to no avail. We came

out brushing aside the thorny creepers a



he mouth of the cave. I had now to tak

eave of him. I said in a broken voice

Farewell Yati ... remember me.’

He had not even touched me since

went into the cave. My words must hav

ouched him. With his hand on m

shoulder, he said, ‘Yayati, one day youwill be king. You will be a sovereign

You will celebrate a hundred sacrifices

But never forget that it is easier t

conquer the world than to master th

mind ...’

returned victorious to Hastinapur withe horse. The capital gave me a rousin

welcome. The whole town wa

bedecked like a bride, immersed i



dance and song like a dancing girl an

showered me with flowers as if the

were the glances of young maidens.

But my mind was not roused even b

such a grand welcome. It was like

beautiful garland of fragrant flowers, i

which one’s favourite flower wamissing! Alaka was not to be see

among the maids who welcomed m

with the sacred lamp.

The joy of my mother was evident i

every move she made. She appeared t

have grown younger. But even though

was bathed in the love overflowing froher eyes, one corner of my hear

remained dry. In the end I pretended to

have casually remembered her an



asked, ‘Alaka does not seem to b

here?’

‘She has gone to her aunt.’

‘Where is her aunt’s house?’

‘It is very far way, at the foot of th

Himalayas. It borders on the Kingdom o

he Demons.’All that night, I thought of Yati and

Alaka. Gradually, in the celebration o

shwamedha, I forgot all this. Almosbefore the end of the celebrations, th

disciples of the ascetic who had blesse

Father with a son, brought a messag

from him.

It was the rule in our house not t

mention the name of that ascetic

Whether it was from awe or ange



nobody knows. But in recounting th

story of my life, I keep repeating t

myself nothing is to be kept back. Hi

name is Angiras.

It appeared that a fierce war wa

ikely to break out between the gods an

he demons. In order to prevent itMaharishi Angiras had taken the vow o

a sacrifice for peace. Kacha, hi

favourite disciple was the leading pries

t was feared that the demons woul

raise obstacles in it. As protectio

against any obstacles to the sacrific

Angiras had begged of the king for hison, the renowned warrior, to be there.

This was an honour even greater tha

he Horse sacrifice. Indra himself woul



send for me, as the young hero wh

defeated with ease the demons. I shal

ravel to Heaven and assure Indra thus

Oh, King of Gods, I shall ever be oour side in any battle with the demons

But there is one thing you must do. M

father carries a curse that his childrewill never be happy. I wish to b

blessed with a counter-blessing t

nullify it.’

* * *

My bodyguard was following leisurelyMy horse grew tired of jogging along a

a slow pace. He galloped like th

whirlwind and I was near the cottage i



for his lovely plume as a keepsake.

mounted the arrow when, in a hars

voice, someone said, ‘Hold back.’

It was not a request. It was an order.

was absorbed in the beauty of th

colours and had not noticed m

surroundings. To the left, on the brancof a tree, was perched a young ascetic

admiring the beauty of the twilight. Th

next instant he jumped down from th

ree, came near and said, ‘This is th

sacred hermitage of Maharishi Angiras.

‘I am aware of that,’ I retorted.

‘Did you intend to kill a bird in thprecincts of this hermitage? That woul

have been a sin.’

‘I am a Kshatriya ... hunting i



enjoined on me by my religion.’

‘There is religious sanction to killin

n self-defence or to subdue evil. How

did this innocent dumb bird hurt you

What harm has it done?’

‘I admired his plume.’

‘You seem to be an epicure. Buremember, He who gave you that qualit

also endowed that bird with life.’

I was annoyed and said, ‘Such drsermons sound very well in a temple.’

The boy smiled and said, ‘You are in

a temple itself. Look, there in the west

he lamp of this temple is getting low

ittle. Higher up, you will see oil lamp

being lit one after another.’

In appearance he was a commo



oung ascetic. But his talk would hav

become a poet more than an ascetic. I

disparagement I said, ‘My venerabl

poet, can you ride?’

‘No.’

‘Then you will never experience th

pleasure of hunting.’‘But I also go hunting.’

‘And pray, what do you hunt ... th

sacred grass?’He calmly said, ‘My enemies.’

‘Is it possible that an ascetic wearin

a tree bark and living in a cottage ha

enemies?’

‘Not one but many of them.’

‘And, pray, what do you fight with?’



‘A spirited steed faster than Lord

ndra’s and of the Sun ...’

‘But you said you cannot ride!’

‘Not your kind of horse ... no. But m

own, yes. It is beautiful and fast. How

can I describe its lightning speed? In a

nstant he can travel from earth theaven. He can fathom fastnesses wher

ight does not penetrate. Horses for th

victory sacrifice pale before it. He ha

he power to make man a God and a Go

.. a greater God.’

In irritation I spurred my horse, sayin

o the insolent boy, ‘Show me youhorse.’

‘I cannot show him to you. But he i

with me all the time, eternally at m



me the need to be humble at th

hermitage. I had removed my royal attir

and must have seemed an ordinar

soldier to him. Just that evening we hahad a clash of views in the forest.

‘One must be truthful but in adherin

o the truth, one must put it in agreeablwords. This teaching of my tutor I hav

not yet imbibed. Please do not tak

offence. It is uncertain how and whe

one’s mind gets out of control like th

horse. Please forgive me,’ he said.

We two were given separate huts a

one end of the settlement. ‘Prince, ware neighbours now,’ said Kach

smilingly. ‘Kachadeva, have you heard

of the proverb ... there is no wors



enemy than the neighbour,’ I replied in

est.

‘There is a half truth in ever

proverb,’ he said with a smile.

Maybe because of my duty in regard t

he sacrifice for peace or maybe becaus

Maharishi Angiras kept flattering mwith the words: ‘The demons know tha

ou are here and dare not interfere wit

he sacrifice.’ Maybe the friendship o

he learned philosopher Kacha did it, bu

he ache in my body was dissolved i

some other happiness, like the drone o

he insects of the forest in the chanting ohymns.

As the leading priest of the sacrific

Kacha lived on water alone for the day



As the principal guardian of th

sacrifice, I should have done the same

But Maharishi Angiras chose six of m

bodyguards and between the seven of uwe had to live on water only one da

each. That one day in the week was ver

difficult for me. Hunger gnawed at mnsides and made me restless. It was no

hat, when out hunting or escorting th

victory horse, I kept regular mealtimes

but then the mind was absorbed isomething else. Hunger was not noticed

was all admiration for Kacha on fastin

days: I wondered how he had acquirehe power to fast cheerfully all seve

days of the week, when I found it s

difficult to go through it only one day.

never found an answer. I would consol



myself thus:

I lead the life of a warrior. The bod

s my mainstay. I was taught to cultivat

t, to make it strong and well nurtured

That is why I cannot prevail ove

hunger. Kacha is different. An ascetic

may have thin limbs like dry brushwoodBut the limbs of a warrior must be lik

steel. There is no derogation then, eve

f I cannot prevail over hunger lik

Kacha. Would Kacha be able to escor

he victory horse through Aryavarta? Hi

body is lustrous by virtue of his penanc

and beautiful because of his youth. Butfor his life he would not have been abl

o sling a bow and arrow.



en e pr nc pa par o e sacr c

was over without a hitch there was

hree day celebration. Kach

participated actively like a child. He haan ear for music and could swim as if h

had been a fish in an earlier birth. Onc

while a lyric was being sung, a chil

started to cry. Even his mother wa

unable to soothe him. Kacha picked hi

up and went outside to pick some berrie

strewn on the ground. He ate a couple ohem and put his tongue, now tinged

rich purple from the berries, out to th

child. The child was amused and smiled

t was as well that I knew that thi

childish Kacha and that other wh

chanted the religious hymns wit

sonorous clarity were the same



Otherwise I would probably never hav

believed in two such divergen

personalities. Did I say tw

personalities? No. Kacha was a manysided personality. I was baffled by ever

new appearance of it. Once a lovel

sweet fruit had a worm in it. He turneo me and said, ‘Prince, life is such. It i

sweet and beautiful but no one know

how and when it will be infected.’ H

paused in deep thought and recited verse which said, ‘In life, it is the swee

fruit that is most likely to be infested.’

That night, I saw Kacha as a poetow and again when anything struc

him, he used to compose lines like this.

should have jotted them down as the



came. But it is only when a thing is los

hat we value it. We were together for a

ong time. But I cannot recall a singl

ine of any of his compositions — only few words of one line — ‘Oh, leaf of th

ree of life.’

The occasion for that verse idistinctly before my eyes. It was

moonlit night. Suddenly there was a gus

and a leaf dropped in Kacha’s hair. He

was anxious that it should not fall of

and get trampled over, but he could no

catch it. He picked it up from the groun

and gazing at it in a trance came ouwith, ‘Oh, leaf of the tree of life.’ I do

not recall the other lines of that verse bu

hey were to this effect; ‘Oh little leaf



why should you grieve over this sudde

death? You have in your own way

contributed to the beauty of this tree

You have done your part in giving youittle shade to us. Your life is fulfilled

and your place in Heaven is secure.’

Once a tiny little affectionate gir

dragged us to her house. She wanted t

show us the first bloom on a tree she haplanted. But she seemed steeped in dee

hought. There were two guests and onl

one flower. She was puzzled whom to

give it to. She gazed at the flower ideep thought. Kacha saw her dilemm

and said, ‘Child, you should give tha

flower to the Prince.’ I said, ‘No, yo



heir fragrance ... for making garland

and braids, for beautifying the hair an

for spreading them on the bed.’ Kach

smiled with the words, ‘There is joy it. But it is transient and derived fro

ndulgence.’

‘Is indulgence a sin?’‘No, not if it does not violate ethics

But life has other joys to offer, whic

are greater than those from indulgence.’

‘For instance?’

‘The joy of selfless sacrifice.’

I asked again, ‘Is renunciation the onl

way to happiness?’

Kacha was grave and emphaticall

said, ‘No, not at all. Your duty is to look

after your subjects justly and to striv



for their happiness. Kingly duty is a

great as asceticism.’

I asked, ‘Is it possible to live like a

ascetic while yet a king?’

He said with deliberation, ‘Prince

man’s most natural instinct is for famil

ife. It follows that in doing so hndulges his senses in different ways. I

God had meant that man should not s

ndulge, he would certainly not hav

endowed him with a body. But mer

ndulgence is not the object of life. Wit

he body God has also given man a sou

all bodily desire must be regimented bhe soul. It is, therefore, necessary tha

he soul should at all times be alert. A

driver under the influence of drink, lose



Maharishi Angiras was performing th

sacrifice for peace. While Indra and th

gods were preparing for war, this son o

h e Preceptor of Gods was hercontributing to the sacrifice for peace

He often said, ‘Gods are addicted to th

pleasures and the demons are blindlworshipping power. Neither can brin

happiness to the world. Nothing ca

come out of a war between them.’

He had a curious mind. I was so nea

him but yet unable to fathom his mind.

Yet one fact remains. I was restless a

he thought of the imminent separatiofrom him. The time for it however cam

unexpectedly. Father was very ill

almost on his deathbed, and I had t



return immediately. I did not know wha

o do and went to Maharishi Angiras fo

advice. Like a father he stroked my bac

and said, ‘Prince, you must return aonce. You need not worry about the

sacrifice, the principal part of which ha

been possible owing to your presenceYou owe a duty to your father as much

as to religion.’

I bowed to Maharishi Angiras i

devotion. With paternal solicitude h

said, ‘Prince, I will not bless you to b

happy. I am not yet clear, even after my

ong penance, whether happiness is thshadow of misery or misery follow

happiness like a shadow. Do not wast

our time thinking of it. You have a



kingdom to look after. Religion, wealt

and desire are the three principal prong

of your duty on earth. Of these, wealt

and desire are very sharp weapons. Ahe beauty of a woman is enhanced wit

modesty, so are wealth and desire whe

allied to dharma. The conviction that onmust do unto others as one expect

others to do unto one is to my mind, th

essence of religion. Let such religion b

our guiding star.’

I was distressed by the news o

Father’s illness. What was the curse o

Father? Is Father’s illness due to thacurse? If so, what was the remedy?

I could not contain myself and said t

Maharishi Angiras, ‘I want to ask yo



something. Does Father carry a curse?’

He was sad and silent. Then he said i

a heavy voice, ‘Yes, but every man i

born with a curse.’

‘Every man?’ I asked. The tremor i

my voice frightened me.

He smiled and said, ‘I, Kacha, youfather, we all in one way carry a curse

Our lives are circumscribed by chains o

circumstances. Some are limited bactions of previous lives, some by th

actions of our parents.’

‘Is life then by itself a curse?’

‘No ... no, life is a glorious blessin

bestowed by God in His mercy. Only th

blessing is tainted with some curses.’

‘What then is the purpose of huma



ife?’

‘Man must strive to free himself of th

curse. The perception of the rest of th

animate world does not extend beyon

bodily pleasure and pain. Suc

perception is given only to huma

beings. It is by virtue of such perceptiohat man has risen above the anima

kingdom and is mounting the steep ascen

of civilised culture. He will one da

reach the peak, and he will be free fro

his curse. Never forget that bodil

pleasure is not the principal aim of life

ts principal aim is the satisfaction of thsoul.’

He stopped there and said, ‘May yo

have a good journey and God bless you.



Upto the time I entered Hastinapur, my

mind was lulled by the philosoph

propounded by Kacha and Angiras. Bu

he lull vanished as soon as I entered thown. I was constantly troubled by th

hought that I might not have the goo

fortune to see my father alive.I sat by Father’s bed. I called to him

He murmured something, but did no

respond to my call as if he was not o

his world.

The Prime Minister came to me and

placing his thin hand affectionately o

my shoulder, led me out. With a lump inhis throat he said, ‘My Prince, you ar

oung and unfamiliar with the ways o

he world. This world is mortal. You



will not be able to bear the agonies o

our father. A couple of miles from here

s Ashokavan ... a beautiful haven o

comfort. It is quiet and restful like cave in the Himalayas and there is a

underground passage from here t

Ashokavan. It is very near that way. Youshould live there for sometime and vis

our father twice a day.’

The Prime Minister had provided wel

for my comfort in the Ashokavan, but

was bored. There was very little I coul

ask them to do. Among the maids waone Mukulika, evidently new. She wa

very clever and pretty. She was abou

wenty-five. To ensure quiet and peac



for me, she used to send the othe

servants away as much as she could an

remain in silent attendance on me.

I was striving night and day to kee

he shadow of death off my mind but m

effort came to nought everytime I went t

see Father. Death is supreme andsovereign in this world; the mind wa

distressed and helpless at the though

hat none can defy it. I realised all th

ime that I would also be lying on th

deathbed some day like Father. Th

childish thought kept recurring that

should run away and hide myself in cave, where the cold hands of Deat

could not reach me.

Death must be even more horrible a



was evident from Father’s condition i

hat illness.

Occasionally, the delirium would

abate. Once when Father did not know

hat I was also there, he beckoned t

Mother. She leaned forward. With

difficulty he lifted his right hand ancaressed her. In a low voice he said, ‘

must go leaving all this splendour an

beauty behind.’

Mother was confused. She did no

know how to bring my presence there t

his notice. Father was sobbing like

ittle child. ‘I have not had my fill of thihoney but ...’

Mother sent me away but that pitifu

crying of Father’s kept ringing in m



getting dim and gloomy outside. Whe

Father once opened his eyes he mus

have recognised me. Grasping my hand

he screeched like a terrified lambYayati, hold me fast! I want to live! No

will not go. Yayu, look, there are the

messengers of death. You are so mighty.. then how did they get here? How di

ou let them come here?’

His hand was trembling. He screame

again. ‘You are all ungrateful. Even i

ou give me one day each of your life .

Yayu, Yayu, hold me fast!’

He relapsed into coma. His hand tolme what he could not put into words

How tightly that hand was clasping! Tha

clasp contained all the fear of a sta



of a dancer. She said softly, ‘Are you no

feeling well, Prince?’

‘I am baffled, Mukulika, seein

Father’s condition ...’

‘They say, now there is no cause fo

anxiety. Only today, the royal astrologe

was saying that all evil stars of the Kinwill soon ...’

‘Bring me some wine. Stars, illness

death ... I want to forget everything.’She did not move. I shouted i

annoyance, ‘I must have some wine.’

She hung her head and said, ‘Prince

he Queen has directed that wine may no

be kept here.’

Is woman naturally intuitive? Or is

hat she is very conscious of the powe



own. All the visiting rishis and ascetic

are lodged here. There should not be o

he premises things which are impure t

hem.’

Those piteous cries of Father wer

humming in my ears again. I wa

rembling all over. I was frightened obeing alone. I wanted support. I turne

on my side and held Mukulika’s hand.

That night!

Again and again I say to myself —

should be reticent about that night

othing at all should be said.

But I am going to bare my heart. Iwould be wrong if some parts of

remained in darkness when laying

bare. Coyness is the ornament of beauty



not of truth. Truth is naked like a new

born babe. It must always be so.

That night I lay in Mukulika’s arms —

o!

Mukulika lay in mine. No!

Even the God of Love himself woul

not be able to tell who was in whosarms that night.

I had only to take her hand in mine

That was enough to snap the bonds of thworld! I was no longer prince nor she

maid. We were just two lovers. Two

birds, two stars —

As soon as I put my lips to Mukulika’

my fear of death vanished.

That night, how often must we hav

kissed each other! Can one count th



number of stars in the sky?

I had read poems of the beauty o

women and I had been vaguely attracte

by it for some years. The mad excitemen

of union with a beautiful young maide

and the spray of heavenly bliss whic

emanated from every part of her being, experienced for the first time that night.

was wildly intoxicated with it.

was woken up from the reverie by th

wittering of birds. I looked out of th

window. The chariot of the Sun was fas

rolling up the Eastern Gateway. Thgolden dust raised by its wheels wa

very enchanting.

I sat up in bed. In utter dejection had



come to this bed last night. It was th

same room, the same walls, the sam

bed and the same trees outside th

window — but in that one night they haapparently been reborn. Now everythin

added to the happy mood gushing out o

my limbs. The trees looked more greenhe song of the birds sounded sweeter

even the walls of the room seemed to b

winking at each other pleased that the

had been witness to the greatest mysteron earth.

Mukulika came in to see if I had go

up. She came near and said, ‘Did yosleep well?’

What a superb actress Mukulika was

Last night she had played the role of



over to perfection. And now she wa

acting a maid just as well.

Unconsciously, I called Mukulika. Sh

stopped and looked back. Then sh

quickly came to the bed saying, ‘Did yo

call for me, Prince?’

I had called to her, but why? I myseldo not know. I kept quiet.

On this, she folded her hands and sai

softly. ‘Have I done anything wrong?’‘You have done nothing wrong ...

have.’ I wanted to say some such thin

but that was only in my mind. In fact,

said nothing. Just then one of heassistants entered in a hurry. The maid

handed a letter sent by the Prim

Minister and went out.



t was a letter from Kacha. It said:

Prince, I am also having to leave

here after you. We saw the sacrifice

for peace through. War between the

gods and demons has flared up. You

may recall that we had already

heard of Maharishi Shukra havingattained the power of Sanjeevani[2].

On the strength of that power, he is

bringing back to life all their men

killed in action.

War ... whether between two

individuals, two communities or

two powers, has to my mind always been something to be deprecated

and outlawed. How vast and rich in

resources is this beautiful world



brought into being by the Creator!

Cannot all of us live happily in it? I

do not know if this foolish dream of

mine will ever come true! At leasttoday such a thought is more than

indulging in moonshine!

It is evident that the gods will bedefeated in this war. But it is hard

to witness with open eyes the defeat

of one’s community. I feel it my duty

to do something to avoid it. I

restlessly paced about all night in

the courtyard before the hut. The

stars were out in the sky. But mydisturbed mind was in darkness.

How much did I think of you! In the

end, towards the morning I thought



of ... no, an inspiration came to me.

I became aware of how a poem

comes to a poet!

It is only if the gods acquire the

power of Sanjeevani that their

defeat can be avoided. And that

secret is known only to MaharishiShukra, the Lord Preceptor of the

Demons. Someone must therefore go

to him as a disciple and acquire that

power. It seems unlikely that anyone

from among the gods will venture

forth, so I have decided to go to

Vrishaparva’s (the Demon King’s)kingdom and become a disciple of

Maharishi Shukra for acquiring that

power. The future is uncertain.



Maybe I shall succeed in my object.

Maybe I will have to lay down my

life.

Maharishi Angiras ... did I tell you

before that he comes from our

family? ... has blessed the venture.

He casually said in his blessing,‘You are a Brahmin by birth. It is

true you are going to acquire a kind

of knowledge, but the venture is

more appropriately that of a

Kshatriya than a Brahmin.’ I

replied, ‘If Prince Yayati had been

here, I would have ventured into theKingdom of Demons only with him;

the daring part of the venture would

have been his and only the



acquisition of knowledge mine.’

What harm can there be in every

class imbibing the qualities of

another? In our worship, do we not

mix the waters of many rivers for

bathing the image?

Prince, we came together during thesacrifice for peace. I shall always

remember you with affection. If I

return safely with the power of

Sanjeevani, we shall certainly meet

sometime.

Some stars get together at short

intervals ... some at long intervals.It is difficult to say when we shall

meet but it is certain that we will.

And that time, I fondly imagine, I



shall meet my friend in a deep

embrace as the meritorious King,

the upholder of religion and of all

that is holy in this world.

There is little else to write about.

E v e n Vedas, the essence of

learning, fall short in the expressionof feelings! Maharishi Angiras

sends you his blessing and we pray

to Lord Shiva for the speedy

recovery of King Nahusha.

Oh, I forgot one thing ... that sweet

little girl next door is crying her

heart out because I am leaving thehermitage. Her creeper is laden

with flowers. She is worried as to

who will admire them. So I have



told her that the Prince will soon

visit her cottage to admire not only

their beauty but their fragrance also.

This letter of Kacha’s was ver

disturbing. Kacha had set out to lay hi

ife for his side. And I? I even forgot las

night that my father was on his deathbed

was scouring round for happiness.

Did I sin? Last night was I guilty o

sin? The thought of sin agitated me. Thahe beehive should come alive while on

s tasting honey and bees should stin

spitefully all over the body —

There was no improvement at all i

Father’s condition. Mother was sittin



before the golden awning of a miniatur

emple set up in the room. I sat near he

and she stroked my back. The touch o

her hand was like love incarnate.

My dejection grew at the sight of m

grief-stricken mother and the idol

before her. I could not dare to look aher.

Seeing that I was reluctant to look a

her, she said, ‘You must have been

restless all night, even in the Ashokava

anxiously thinking of your father and me

f the little ones are to waste themselve

n anxiety, what are the elders for? Sef you cannot find entertainment in song

dance, music and drama?’

Just then the Prime Minister came i



and Mother said to him, ‘It looks as i

he arrangements in Ashokavan ...’

The Prime Minister intervened, ‘Ther

s a girl Mukulika by name ... She is new

but she is very clever. She has bee

enjoined to cater to all the comforts o

he Prince.’Mother said, ‘Your arrangements ther

maybe very good, but Yayu must find

pleasure and entertain himself wit

hem.’

‘Madhav, the second son of our Poe

Laureate, is a great connoisseur of th

Arts and a good conversationalist. shall ask him to keep the Princ

company.’

I tried to smile and said, ‘You mus



ask him to first take me to a philosopher

At the moment, I am baffled by abstrus

questions concerning life and death.’

Madhav took me to the house of a grea

scholar. On the way he related a numbe

of tales commonly in circulation abouhim.

The scholar attended court only for th

more important ceremonies. If a song odance were in progress, he would lowe

his eyes and mutter verses to himself

You could never be certain what he

would ask of a visitor. Once a hairascetic came to him for a discussion o

he character of the God Almighty. The

discussion was getting deeply interestin



Madhav was gifted with a fluen

ongue. He related these stories s

delectably that it was impossible to sto

aughing. The learned are queer in manways. As their intelligence i

uncommon, so is their behaviour out o

he ordinary. It is because of this that wvie with each other in relating suc

coloured stories about them.

I was amused by Madhav’s colourfu

narration of them. The schola

welcomed us in the library itself. Hi

first few sentences convinced me that th

scholar’s whole world was centred ihis room. He was in ecstasy whe

reading to me from a rare archai

volume. His learning naturally evoke



respect. Even in meeting one of m

simple questions, he quoted profusel

from memory and took out numerou

references in support of his view.

But he did not have enough eruditio

o answer to my satisfaction th

questions which were worrying me. Msaying that I was greatly troubled by th

hought of death, he countered with th

words: ‘Who has escaped death, Prince

We discard our clothes when they ge

old. In the same way the soul discard

he body.

‘Prince, remember one thing, that lifs essentially an illusion. There is onl

one eternal truth in this world, Brahma

he all pervading power at the root of al



The intense experiences of pleasure an

pain may fade with time but they canno

be untrue. Hunger is not unreal an

neither are its pangs. Tasty food cannobe unreal nor the pleasure it gives.

Madhav requested me to spend thafternoon at his house. His elder brothe

was a poet. Madhav said that on hi

wife’s death, his brother had tired of lifand had gone on a pilgrimage. That th

philosophy of our erudite scholar was a

material variance with the facts of lif

was no longer in doubt.On our way to his house, Madha

recalled the story of how his brothe

came to be a renowned poet. Once in th



capital, there was a poetic competition

Poets from far and near had assemble

o participate in it. The composition wa

o be extempore and the subject for thcompetition was The Spots on th

oon. His brother did not at first joi

n. A bee in the lotus, the black of a rockon the Himalayas, and many such simile

were used in the poems composed. In th

end, a poet from the Land of the Fiv

Rivers spoke of the moon as the whitbreast of a beautiful young maiden an

he spot as its nipple. That wayward an

sensuous flight of imagination haenraptured and carried away th

audience. Everyone felt that the priz

must go to its poet. It was the triumph o

he theme of Love.



quietly on a flower. On seeing Madhav’

chariot, the butterfly rose and ran to him

She put her arms round Madhav, looked

gravely at me and asked, ‘Who is thisuncle?’

‘Taraka, you must first bow to him.’

‘He is no God that I should bow thim,’ she said.

‘He is the Prince.’

‘What is a prince?’Madhav had to find words o

explanation which would be intelligibl

o her. He explained. ‘This chariot, th

horses and all this belongs to him. Tha

s why he is called Prince.’ Lookin

steadily at me, she folded her hands an

said, ‘Namaste, Prince.’



If I was a painter, I would have drawn

her with that graceful figure of hers an

he sweet innocent childish expressio

on her face.

‘Namaste,’ I said.

She said, ‘Prince, will you give m

one of your horses? A marriage is to becelebrated.’

‘Whose? Yours?’

‘Oh no, my doll is to be married!’‘When?’

‘Day after tomorrow.’

‘Who is the bridegroom?’‘Bridegroom!’ she exclaimed and wit

her hands made it clear that she did no

know. That waving of her hands i



uncertainty was very fascinating. It wa

ike a sweet little fledgling moving it

iny wings to shake off a drop of water.

Taraka’s doll was to be married day

after tomorrow but a bridegroom had ye

o be found. I teased her with the words

I shall give you my horse for thwedding but where would you find

bridegroom?’

‘Yes, indeed, where to find a

bridegroom?’ said she and wa

engrossed in deep thought with her smal

chin cupped in her palm.

Madhav was inside. Taraka talkedfreely, smiling and playful. How

enchanting was that little form absorbe

n deep thought! I wanted to pick her up



But I was reluctant to interrupt he

reverie.

In a little while she looked up gravel

and said, ‘Prince, will you be th

bridegroom?’

Just then Madhav returned. He ha

overheard that strange question. Anotheime he would have chastised th

nnocent little child for it. But in m

presence he could do nothing and wa

fretting. How unrestrained is a child’

magination! I pictured to myself th

ceremony in progress. On one side,

iny doll and on the other a tall heftYayati, with one of Madhav’s old

overclothes for a wedding screen!

After lunch, I proposed to rest ther



was headed for the palace and I stoppe

he driver. It was then that I remembered

my resolve of that afternoon. The poo

fellow was not to blame and I saigently, ‘Take me to Ashokavan. I am no

feeling well.’

When I stepped inside the room found that it shone with flowers an

decoration just like yesterday. Mukulik

followed me into the room with

beautiful jar of wine. She poured som

n a glass and gave it to me. I sipped i

and asked her, ‘I had told you that

would not return and yet ...’‘To tell the truth, Prince,’ she said

biting her finger mischievously, ‘w

women do not heed a man’s word bu



rather his eyes.’

* * *

was leading a life of sheer sel

deception. The first moment o

emptation is the first step down thravine of sin. I have taken that first step

However beautiful it maybe, it is th

first step in decadence and fall. Where i

t going to take me? Into a frightfu

chasm or ravine? Or maybe to Hell

Sometimes the clash in my min

assumed terrible proportions, though was rare.

One evening Madhav and I wer

returning from a dance, when I got



message from the Prime Minister sayin

hat Father was now conscious and wa

asking for me. I quickly went to him. H

was very pale, like the sun at eclipse. was taken aback.

Father tried to lift his right hand t

draw me beside him. It cost him a greaeffort doing so and tears came to m

eyes. It was that hand that had given m

courage in my first illness. That han

was my shield — and now, that hand —

By his bedside, there was also a smal

ar of wine. He pointed to it wit

difficulty and asked for a little.I poured a little. He stared at it an

asked for the cup to be filled up.

‘I have a lot to say to you and I mus



have the strength. Give me plenty, no

ust a few drops.’

I filled the cup and put it to his lips

He sipped it and closed his eyes for

while. When he opened them again h

was looking refreshed.

He took my hand and said, ‘Yayu, myson, I long to live yet. If anyone coul

give me more life, I would be prepare

o give him even my kingdom. But ...’

He had the reputation of being a lio

of a man. But his eyes — now they wer

he eyes of a mortally wounded stag. H

said in slow measured words, ‘Yayu, mson, I am leaving behind for you a ver

prosperous kingdom.’

‘Father, I am well aware of you



competence and prowess. To be born to

a father like you is a matter of great goo

fortune. Of that

...’

Father intervened with the words

And misfortune too.’

I was shaken and did not know what tsay. The curse Father was smartin

under! Does he perhaps mean that?

Father spun out each word slowlyYayu, my son, your father once defeated

God Indra. He was then the King of th

Heavens, but as to why I had to leav

hat throne ...’‘I was never told about it.’

‘Umm ... what was I saying? Oh yes .

changed at the prospect of takin



ndra’s throne. Yayu ... never forget one

hing. Pride of one’s prowess and

arrogance are two different things. In m

arrogance I thought I could take Indra’wife as a concubine. She accepted me o

one condition ... that I should go to her i

a unique conveyance. My palanquinbedecked with heavenly jewels wa

carried by some of the great rishis. I wa

mpatient and in order that the bearer

might go a little faster, I kicked one ohem on the head. That happened to b

Rishi Agastya and he pronounced

curse.’ With the last words, Father wagasping. Those words were indistinc

and blurred.

He could speak no more. He pointe



o the jar of wine and as I could not bea

he agony in his face, I poured a littl

more wine in the cup and put it to hi

mouth.

The wine cheered him up. His lip

moved in an effort to speak when I said

Father, you should rest now. We canalk tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’ he said, with all the

pathos in the world.

He was introspective for a minute. H

hen said quietly, ‘Yayu, I, Nahusha and

my children will never be happy! Tha

was the curse! Both the good and thsins of the parents are visited on th

children. That is a universal maxim

Yayu, your father is in the wrong



forgive him! Remember always, neve

ransgress the decencies of life. I did an

..’

Father closed his eyes and his fac

was haggard. He was muttering t

himself. I bent low to hear him —

heard the words — curse — Yati, death could not contain myself and said

Father, Yati is alive.’

His hoarse voice said, ‘Where?’

‘I met him when I was escorting th

victory horse.’ He was trembling al

over. He said, ‘And you kept it from m

so long? You feared he would succeedo the throne after me and you ...’

He could not speak anymore and h

ooked so queer that I screamed



Mother!’

Mother rushed in, followed by th

physician, the minister and the maids

The physician put a few drops of syrup

nto his mouth, which seemed to reviv

him. He whispered to the minister, ‘M

ife is now uncertain. Show me once thsignet of my victory over Indra. Let m

die looking at it. One should die in th

halo of victory!’

Mother was upset at his words an

was wiping her eyes. I did not know

how to console her. The Prime Ministe

brought the signet.Father said, ‘Give it to me.’ He turned

t over and round and round and asked

Where is the symbol of my prowess o



his ... the bow and the arrow ... my bow

.. my arrow ...?’

Father stared at it, and called to me

He asked, ‘Yayu, is there any engraving

on it?’

‘Yes.’

‘What does it say?’‘Victory, Victory be to King

ahusha!’

‘Why can’t I alone see the engravingHas it also conspired against me?’

Tears were streaming down his eye

and he sobbed, ‘No, I cannot see

Victory to Nahusha! No, all that is no

rue. He has been defeated today. Deat

has vanquished him. Death? I cannot se

anything ... I ... I!’



He fell back lifeless. Mother wa

rying to control herself, but she brok

down! The physician with the help of

maid was putting drops of syrup into himouth.

Stealthily death had entered. Non

saw it but its oppressive shadow waevident in all faces.

I could stand it no longer and cam

out, covering the face with my hands.

wanted to cry but could not.

A little later, the physician and the

Prince Minister came out. The physicia

put his hand on my shoulder and saidPrince, at the moment he is feeling

ittle better and there is no cause fo

anxiety. But there is no certainty now



and we must depend on God. You shoul

go and rest in Ashokavan for a littl

while. If there is a change for the worse

he Prime Minister will immediatelsend word.’

I was going down the main road

Crowds were gathered everywhere —some cheerful, others humming tunes t

hemselves and yet others sauntering a

on a picnic in cool moonlight. Thei

gaiety only added to my misery.

Mukulika was standing at the door al

dressed up when I returned t

Ashokavan. I went in without a word ther. She came forward to help me to

change. I stopped her with a sign. Sh

was afraid and looked away.



Mukulika asked with hesitation, whe

would like dinner. She had go

something made specially for me. I sai

brusquely, ‘Not now. Tomorrowmorning please go away to the palace

Remember, you may not come here

unless I ask for you.’I was annoyed. I was angry wit

myself, the world, death and Mukulika.

did not realise what I was saying.

I lay on the bed without taking m

clothes off. Suddenly, I was reminded o

Father. The signet and his longing to se

he inscription on it. A little while agohe had lost his sight — now perhaps hi

other movements have also stopped

Father had a worldwide reputation fo



having brought Indra to his knees. Now

he could not even move his hand withou

an effort. In a while his body will b

ifeless like a piece of wood.

The uncanny fear of death wa

haunting me again. I lay still with m

eyes closed like a frightened child. Band by, I fell asleep. I do not know how

ong I slept. But I woke up with

frightening dream. In it, Yayati was lying

on his deathbed instead of his father.

I had heard for a long time that bod

and soul are two distinct entities, bu

without the body, what worldlpleasures can the soul enjoy?

I was sorry that I had been cross wit

Mukulika earlier and called to her.



wonder if she was listening in at th

door. She opened it, closed it behind he

and slowly came forward. When sh

was near the bed, she stood with hehead hung low.

I said, ‘Why are you standing lik

his? Is it because as I said earlier that did not want to see you again?’

She looked up and gave me

delightful smile. She must have bee

crying outside. That is why like the eart

after a shower she looked even mor

beautiful.

I was about to get up and put my hanon her shoulder, when I heard someon

calling, ‘Prince.’

I asked her if she had called me bu



she said no. Yet she must have also

heard it. She quickly moved away fro

he bed and was looking at the door

frightened.

Again the same call: ‘Prince ...’

Someone was calling across the wal

was reminded of the tunnel leadinfrom the palace to the Ashokavan.

scanned the wall carefully. It sounded

hollow in the middle and nearby, barel

perceptible, was a catch. On pressing i

a doorway slid open. At the top of th

stairs of the tunnel, Mandar, the trusted

servant of the Prime Minister wastanding. He said in a broken voice

Prince, please hurry. We do not know i

he King ...’



Without even turning to Mukulika,

descended into the underground passage

closed the secret door and followe

Mandar like a puppet.

n the eyes of the world Yayati was now

King, the lord of a great kingdom. But ifact Yayati had become an orphan, with

no one to look up to.

Sometimes the memory of Father useo make me sad. The royal precepto

would then console me with the words

Your Majesty, the soul of King Nahusha

s now free from bondage.’

Poor preceptor! I would listen to hi

verses from the Rigveda and would i

rritation say to myself, where does thi



soul of man reside? What does it loo

ike? What does it do? What is tha

something different that a body has not

The preceptor says, Father’s soul wilnow merge in the happiness of self.

When the funeral pyre was lit for the las

rites, the priests chanted:

Oh, God of fire! Bring back to life

for the service of the forefathers the

dead who has been offered to you insacrifice. Let him again take a body

and come to life. May he get a body!

What is the significance of that prayer? oyed with this central theme of th

prayer. It became an obsession with me

What body will Father take in the nex



birth?

Would he be glad to be born a

Yayati’s son? Is it possible? Perhap

rebirth is only a poetic fantasy! Why di

grow up into a youth? Why did

become King? Where is the Yayati who

was equally attracted to the bloominflowers in the garden and the spark

flying from the sacrificial fire? Where i

hat confident, fearless, innocent child?

I shall not today go near a fire to catc

he sparks. I now know that fire burns.

shall not confide my secret to any bud.

am conscious that it will open and perishe day after!

Is knowledge a curse or a blessin

bestowed on man? Is youth which come



o all living beings a blessing or

curse? Youth is the first step towards

old age. And death is the last step. How

can it be youth if it lures old age? It is errible curse!

When the word ‘curse’ thus somehow

came to mind, I remembered Father’ast words, ‘Nahusha and his childre

will never be happy.’ I felt that someone

was ever writing these words in th

nterstellar space in burning letters.

That curse had partly come true

Father was not happy. There was his las

struggle, he was unable to even see thmemento of his unique victory.

Father had in his arrogance kicke

Rishi Agastya. He in turn had quit



rightly pronounced a curse. But what ha

we children done to offend him? I wa

not even born then. And even so, is th

curse going to haunt me like a ghost almy life?

What has destiny in store for me? Is

possible that I will not be happy eveafter my enthronement?

I had come to a strangely inert state o

mind. I was not inclined to talk t

anyone, eat or drink but just lay dow

quietly. Mother had noticed it and on

day asked if I was ailing. She said

Your maid Mukulika came fromAshokavan yesterday. She is very swee

and clever. I would like to bring her to

he palace. She was saying, “The Princ



s very uncommunicative. He will no

openly ask for anything that he wants.

Shall I send for her today to attend o

ou?’

‘Mukulika is silly and perhaps you ar

even more so. Truly, Mother, I have los

nterest in everything. I feel likrenouncing all this grandeur and ...’

Mother looked petrified. She held m

by the hand and said, ‘Yayu, do you

remember your promise to me?’

To humour her I said, ‘As a child

made promises to you everyday. So

many of them are now crowding mmind that I do not clearly remember an

of them.’

‘You have all along been wily. When



ou are cornered ...’

For a moment, I wished to tell her o

Yati and press her to go to him and

prevail upon him with her love to com

back, adding, ‘He is the elder brother

Let him be king. I am dejected. I do no

want the throne ... in fact nothing.’Even if she went in search of him h

was unlikely to return, inspite of he

ears. It is easy to tame a lion or a tige

but not an obstinate ascetic like Yati —

wonder how his life is going to end

Will his path lead him to the pinnacle —

realisation of God in person? If he geto his goal, the whole world will be al

admiration for him. He will b

acclaimed as a great ascetic. But what i



his foot slips while on that difficu

ascent up the snowbound hills o

renunciation. If the snow suddenly thaw

he will be drowned in the avalanche.

Mother said, ‘You are very obstinate

You can hardly help it. It runs in you

family. Now of course, added to youobstinacy as a child, is the obstinacy of

King. I can also exercise my rights as th

King’s mother. Yayu, shall I tell you

why you are dejected?’

After all, a mother’s heart bleeds eve

at the simple prick of a thorn in he

child’s foot and it brings tears to heeyes. It was no wonder then, that m

mother was concerned about my strang

behaviour.



In order to change the topic, I said

Mother, I know you are loving but you

penetrating vision ...’

‘This is knowledge which comes wit

experience and age, son! I was also you

age once and haven’t forgotten what

felt like then.’ She obviously felt needed to marry a princess of my choic

o regain my good cheer.

Mother left to fix a date for th

coronation. She was smiling. Her las

words should have struck a happy not

n my mind. I was King of Hastinapur

but I kept thinking of Mother. I had oftebeen greatly troubled by the thought tha

Father’s death would be too much of

shock to her and that she would soo



follow him.

What in fact happened was quit

different. She grieved for a few days bu

very soon thereafter took her place a

he Queen Mother and was looking afte

he household and the affairs of the state

She was active and seemed to taknterest in her new life. That he

happiness hung solely by my father wa

a mistaken idea.

In this world everybody obviousl

ives for himself. As the roots of th

rees and creepers turn to moistur

nearby, so do men and women look fosupport to near relations for thei

happiness. This is what the world call

ove, affection or friendship. In fact, it i



only the love of self. If the moisture o

one side dries up, the trees and th

creepers do not dry up, but their root

ook for it elsewhere, be it far or nearThey find it, draw it in and so remai

fresh.

Mother’s fresh zest for life must havcome thus. She paraded as the Quee

upto a few days ago, but did not he

greatness depend on keeping the King i

hand on the strength of her beauty?

The reason why she did not nurse m

as a child must have been the difficu

role of being the wife of a great manShe had greater need to preserve he

beauty than be a mother. For her th

husband was all in all. And yet she had



no authority over him, but she also ha

nothing else to turn to.

She was now the Queen Mother. He

nfluence as a mother over her son wa

evident in every act of hers.

When Madhav come to see me today hwas not alone, Taraka, his niece

accompanied him. I was pleased to se

hat naughty girl. I called her to me anasked, ‘Well, lady Taraka, did you in the

end find a husband for your doll?’

Taraka nodded.

I asked her, ‘Is the husband good?

She shook her head.

‘Why do you say he is not a goo

husband?’ She sniffed and said, ‘He ha



a snub nose and lisps,’ she said. Madhav

said, ‘She says she heard him lisp in he

dream.’

I laughed heartily. Madhav pointed

out, ‘She has specially come to the Kin

oday.’

‘What do you want then?’She looked up at me shyly with he

head hung and said, ‘You are now King

and are going to mount the lion? Is not?’

I said with a laugh, ‘A king has to

mount the throne ... a seat made of lion

or else who would call him King?’

‘Do the lions bite?’

I said gravely, ‘No.’

‘Then will you make me your Queen?



So, Taraka had come to be my Queen

This was rather an unusual kind o

swayamvara[3], which amused me.

I said, ‘You are very small yet. I shal

make you Queen when you are grow

up.’ I sent her away loaded with sweets

That evening two disciples of Angirabrought his letter. Reading it, I wa

shaken out of Taraka’s innocent world

nto a very different one.

The sage had written:

I am writing to you sometime after

the demise of King Nahusha.Soon after you left, Kacha went to

Vrishaparva’s kingdom to acquire

the power of Sanjeevani. Our



prayers had fallen short of being

able to prevent a war between gods

and demons. It is not part of a man’s

duty to sit back with folded hands inthe presence of evil occurrences! I

therefore left the hermitage resolved

to go to the Shivtirth and do penancein solitude. I heard about the demise

of King Nahusha, on my way back

after the penance. I returned today

and am writing to you now.

Yayati, death is as inevitable as it is

distasteful to all living beings. That

is a part of the routine of allcreation, as dramatic and

mysterious as birth. As the delicate

reddish foliage just appearing on the



trees in spring is the play of the

power of creation, equally so, is it

seen in the faded yellow leaves

falling off in autumn. That is justhow one must view Death. Sunrise

and sunset, summer and winter, light

and shade, day and night, womanand man, pleasure and pain, body

and soul and life and death are all

inseparable pairs. Life manifests

itself in such quality. It is with suchweb and woof, that the Prime

Power weaves the fabric of the life

and growth of creation.King Nahusha was a great warrior.

May his prowess inspire you. A

king is blessed with his subjects



which are like the Kamdhenu to

him. May you serve them well! I

shall ever pray to the Prime Power

to this end.

I was going to stop but that bad

news never comes singly is

unfortunately true.A young ascetic returning from the

borderland of the demons’ kingdom

says, Kacha entered their land and

preceptor Shukra accepted him as a

disciple. Kacha had hoped to be

able to please his preceptor with his

devotion and service and acquirethe Sanjeevani. The demons

naturally turned inimical to Kacha.

They mercilessly murdered him



while he was out as usual tending

his preceptor’s cattle, and fed his

meat to the wolves.

That is all the ascetic knows. A

number of brave young ascetics

living on the border are engaged in

getting information, at the peril of their life.

There is, however, no purpose in it.

Now that Kacha has thus been put

an end to ... Yayati, some words in

the last four lines have got dimmed.

Unconsciously, tears came to my

eyes and dropped on the writing. Itried my utmost to control my tears

but even an ascetic who has

renounced everything is only a man.



I am distressed by the memory of

Kacha. His positive tendencies

were so pronounced ... I had hoped

that he would succeed in the greattask of stopping the war but ...

It is given to man to hope, whether it

succeeds ...I understand your mother’s grief. I

pray to God that He may give her

the strength to bear it.

You are now King and maybe I

should have addressed your more

formally, but that would not have

shown my affection for you.

Only one part of Angiras’ letter wa

ruly touching. That was the tears whic



came to his eyes while writing abou

Kacha’s death and words that wer

disfigured thereby. Tears and the

disfigured words! All the rest wapreaching, just dry philosophy. But doe

man live by philosophy? No, he lives i

hope, dreams, affection, glory anheroism. But merely by philosophy

How is it possible? These bearde

ascetics are always very fond o

sermonising. Kacha’s heroism, evidenfrom that letter, went to my heart. How

brave he was, though unarmed. His fac

must have held the glow of lightninwhen he was killed. Playing with hi

rudrakshamala[4], he must have said t

he demons, ‘You can cut my body to



pieces, but what about my soul? You

cannot even touch it. It is immortal.’

I was spending idle days in the palac

nstead of undertaking a venture lik

him.

Even after Father’s death, there wa

no rising anytime, anywhere. The affairof the state were running smoothly and

was like a bird in a gilded cage. Kach

was soaring high in the blue sky like a

eagle. I wished to be similarly engage

n some unique venture somewhere

With this thought I spent a restless nigh

and in the morning I had a dream. Yatwas saying in the dream: ‘You selfish

wicked wretch, what right have you t

he throne? Get up and vacate the thron



or I will destroy you with a curse.’

I got up and called to Mother and tol

her of my meeting with Yati and my

dream. At first she was confused. The

she looked deep into my eyes and asked

Yayu, I trust you are telling the truth?’

‘I swear by Father ...’She said disparagingly, ‘Swear b

anything else. Your father was a

warrior, but he never kept any of thpromises he made to me.’ Mother put he

hand on my shoulder and said, ‘My son

he alone that is hurt suffers. I was not th

great Queen, I was the great maid. danced to his tune all my life. I refuse t

do so any longer.’

She had spoken the harsh truth. Tha



was why I could not bear to hear it. To

console her, I said, ‘Mother, I shal

never do anything to hurt you.’ In th

excitement of the moment I got up anouched her feet. She calmed down then

She reluctantly consented to my goin

o East Aryavarta in search of Yati. Sheagreed that it should be kept quiet an

hat my retinue should be as small a

possible. She insisted, however, that if

failed to meet Yati or his whereabout

could not be ascertained, I must retur

straight to Hastinapur. I agreed.

She was now preparing for thourney instead of the coronation wit

equal zest. Mandar was the Prim

Minister’s most trusted servant and wa



o go as my bodyguard. So that ther

maybe no inconvenience, she detaile

servants and even one or two maids fo

odd jobs. I asked for Kalika but was tolhat she had gone to visit Alaka, who

was now married.

Mother decided to select twprincesses by my return — one for m

and one for Yati. I do not know if Tarak

who wished to be my queen or Mothe

who was contemplating marriage fo

Yati was more childish. Is a mother’

heart no different from that of a child?

ooked at Mother and wondered ianyone ever understood another perso

fully. She was my mother but as to

knowing her! It would be easier t



fathom the sky than to peep in a heart!

* * *

Although the hermitage of Angiras was

ittle off the way but I paid him a visit

He greeted me from the bottom of hiheart.

I was very glad to see him but before

could say a word, a young asceti

entered. In great misery he announced

The demons are celebrating, with grea

eclat, the “Wine-day”. They rejoic

because wine has helped their cause .hey killed and cremated Kacha an

mixed his ashes in the Maharishi’s wine

As you know, Maharishi Shukra has



great weakness for wine and the demon

have succeeded in making it impossibl

for Kacha to come to life again.’

The hermitage was plunged in gloom.

It was with a heavy heart that I lef

Angiras. On the way, I was attracted b

he high mountains, deep ravinesmagnificent rainbows, tiny butterflies

he tall swaying palms and the watersid

willows and reeds. All the way I wa

witness to towns and villages, the stron

well-knit bodies of men and women

heir varied costumes and variou

ewellery and the rich variety of theisongs, dances and festivals. Th

cavalcade was a balm to my misery

What does a Kacha, Yati or Yayati



matter in this vast expanse of life o

earth? How insignificant man is in th

vast background of this world? Why tal

of his pleasure or pain? Is anyonbothered about the feelings of a blade o

grass floating on the waves of the sea?

We were hurrying to get to EasAryavarta quickly, yet the entire retinu

was equally concerned about m

comfort.

Yati had left his cave. I made carefu

enquiries in the surrounding villages an

alked at length to many people youn

and old. All that came out was that Yatwas now a little more tolerant o

society, unlike his earlier aversion to

anyone staying near his cave. Societ



was now an experimental laboratory fo

him. He could work miracles. To tha

end he had undergone terrible penance

t was in this unbalanced state of minhat he had heard of Maharishi Shukra’

Sanjeevani which could revive the dead

He was convinced that only a preceptoike Shukra could show him the one wa

o his objective — the power to conver

all women into men — and had therefor

gone to the kingdom of the demons.

All this was merely hearsay collecte

from the rustics inhabiting the smal

villages in the sparsely populated areabout the cave. It is difficult to say how

much of it was true and how much wa

coloured. But one thing was clear. Yat



had abandoned the cave for good an

had probably gone to Shukracharya.

We set out to return. We made for shor

cuts and travelled fast for three or fou

days at a stretch. On the fourth or fift

day we reached a nice little place, ittle off the highway.

Hill, dale, river and forest togethe

contributed to the beauty of the spotEach added to its charm. The hill wa

not high and but for the deep pool in th

middle, the river flowed placidly

Except for the central part the forest waike a neatly laid out garden. The firs

sight of it brought the thought to my min

hat God must have made this pleasur



garden for the play of Creation in he

childhood. There was no habitation for

mile but one did not experience at all th

strange lurking fear usual in sucregions. The twittering birds appeared t

be talking to one another. The ripplin

stream, humming a tune to itself like oung maiden in a reverie. The dale wa

ike an inviting bed and the hill like

sacrificial place. The oppressive effec

of great grandeur or the frightening effecof the grotesque — none of these marre

he spectacle. It was sheer beauty, jus

sheer unbounded feast for the eyes.I was conscious that I must return t

Hastinapur as early as possible. M

mother would be waiting. But I wa



enchanted with that beautiful spot.

enjoyed it for hours on end and was stil

not satisfied. It was difficult to tea

myself away from it and I lingered therdespite the journey ahead. Suddenly

would be reminded of Yati. He mus

have come across many such spots. Whdid he not feel like spending his tim

delighting in such beauty? Why had h

set out on the trying path of meditatio

and mystic achievement? He had gone tMaharishi Shukra to serve him and t

attain the power to make the worl

exclusively male; why had he turned woman-hater? If he had seen this beaut

spot, he would probably have set out t

urn it into a desert. Is it the purpose o

man’s life to love the natural and th



one. In the end, towards the evening,

set out with a heavy heart to take leav

of the place. I was like a man in misery

faced with long separation from his deaone. The long shadows of the evenin

gradually spread to the hill crest, th

ops of tree and bush and rolled leisurelon the placid water of the pool.

watched all this, perched on the tree.

was uneasy that I would have to leave i

a few hours, when suddenly on thopposite bank, I saw a deer gracefull

poised. She must have come for a drin

but stood there without bending to thwater as if some sculptor was modellin

her figure. Instinctively my right han

searched for the bow and arrow on m

shoulder. The hunter in me was roused



Looking on that graceful figure, my han

was stayed. Unlike my earlier convictio

hat killing was part of my Kshatriy

dharma, now I felt a sense of guilt a

wanting to hunt that beautiful creature.

The deer stood its ground. Casually

urned to the near bank. I was surprisedThere also a deer — No — it was

oung maiden! Her back was turned t

me. Why had she come to thi

wilderness?

She looked at the sky, folded he

hands and the next moment, flung hersel

nto the pool.When I dived in to save her it wa

purely from compassion. I pulled her ou

of the pool and put her head in my lap t



revive her. My compassion gave plac

o fear, then surprise and finally joy fo

she was Alaka!

She had not taken in much water an

soon opened her eyes. And on seein

me, with a faint smile, she closed the

again. In a low voice she said, ‘Motherwhen did Prince come?’

She was obviously not conscious o

her surroundings yet.

‘I am no longer prince, Alaka! I am

now king,’ I said smiling.

She opened her eyes, and fixing the

on me said, ‘I beg your pardon, YouMajesty! I erred,’ with such a

enchanting smile that the charming Alak

of many years ago, reappeared befor



my eyes. The sweetness of that first kis

hat night seared through my veins. Sh

still doubted whether what she saw wa

reality or a dream! I was tempted to kisher and bent to put my lips gently o

hers. She realised this, shivered a littl

and said, ‘No!’Her voice was a little hoarse but it

firmness did not escape me. I drew

away. Slowly she said, ‘Your Majesty,

am now someone else’s!’

Her hand was trembling and anxiet

showed in her face. Inspite of m

protests to the contrary, stammering andpausing at intervals she started tellin

me of the intervening years. She was no

conscious even of her wet clothe



clinging to the body or of her wet hair!

Her aunt had arranged her marriag

with a young, handsome and well-to-d

farmer, but he was given to gambling

Once he took Alaka out on the plea o

going to a fair. His dear friend who

practised black magic was with themThere her husband gambled heavily an

ost and all three had to run away. H

ived on in the hope that with the help o

his friend’s magic he would one day win

back his money and be rich again. Hi

friend was all absorbed in his evi

pursuits, hoping that one day he woulbe able to turn a man into a donkey! H

also boasted that he could turn a ma

nto a dog or sheep. They wandere



ogether far away from their home. Sh

was helpless. Her husband would grow

at her if she dared attempt to admonis

him and he would ask his friend tchange her into a bitch or sheep. Th

friend would proceed to light a fire, pu

some salt and condiment in it and recita few hymns. Alaka was terrified to

death at the prospect and would beg o

hem to stop.

She had not, however, come to the end

of her misfortune. A few days earlier

he husband had staked his wife and lost

The winner smirked at her with greedanticipation. Somehow, she bolted from

here. In darkness, for days on end sh

sneaked from place to place, eatin



when she could and drinking when wate

was to be found. Life becam

unbearable and she decided to comm

suicide.

She was distressed to relate all this

Listening to her, I could not help feelin

hat destiny was cruel and took delight iplaying with man’s life.

The sun was going down in the west

But it was necessary to say something t

kindle a ray of hope in her. I tenderly

stroked her hair and said, ‘There is n

need to worry, Alaka. You are my ...’

She jerked herself away from my laand protested vehemently, ‘I, I am no

ours, I belong to someone else.’

I patted her head with the words



Alaka, you are my sister! I have fed a

our mother’s breast, you remember?’

How powerful is a word of comfor

and a touch of loving tenderness! Alak

smiled in gratitude. It was as if a dyin

flame had been revived with fresh oil!

Evening was fast descending on eartht was undesirable to continue any longe

n that wilderness. I helped Alaka to si

up and we walked back.

The setting sun streaked on her hai

while she was bent over the water. A

few hair sparkled. I had not notice

earlier the lovely golden brown tinge iher hair. It was clearly visible now and

said, ‘You have golden hair.’

‘Yes, a little.’



n the middle of the night I felt tha

somebody was touching my feet. Th

amp was low but I recognised that th

figure standing near my bed waAlaka’s. I got up and asked her, ‘What i

he matter?’

She could not speak but warembling. I took her hand in mine. It wa

wet with perspiration. I made her sit o

my bed and for courage, I stroked he

back gently. I suddenly seemed to see

shadow flitting across my tent. I looke

around but there was nobody.

Alaka had been unable to sleep wink. She was terrified by dreams of he

husband pushing her off a mountain top

n the end, she had taken courage t



come to me.

Just then an insect put out the light an

here was a footstep outside. It mus

have been the sentry.

I sent her away reassured but it wa

clear that she was scared of he

gambling husband and his friend, thblack magician. No amount o

reassurance could dispel her fea

completely.

I had thought she would not come t

me during our halt the next night. But a

on the previous night she did, tremblin

all over. All her subconscious fearwere tormenting her like ghosts in th

darkness.

That night, Alaka complained o



something else; she had seen a ghos

which looked like Mandar. Thinking tha

she was asleep, the ghost tried to kis

her but disappeared as soon as shmoved.

On the third night, I asked for her be

o be made in my tent. The front flap waalways left open and the sentry did hi

rounds in front. I could therefore se

nothing wrong with the arrangement

Who could doubt anything in th

circumstances?

Maybe because of implicit confidenc

n me or because her fears graduallessened with the passage of time, Alak

now slept well. She was thus disturbe

only four or five times during th



ourney! If she was trembling with frigh

would seat her on my bed and pat he

on the back and reassured she woul

return to her bed.

I am carefully recalling all thos

ncidents but at no time, not even whe

she was sitting on my bed in the dead onight, did I ever entertain any sinfu

hought in respect of her. More than he

beauty, I valued her implicit confidenc

n me. The thought that she could li

down without a care, with her head i

my lap, gave me pleasure of a differen

kind than the pleasure of kissing her.Those days of travelling, how quickl

hey went by! But their lingering memor

s still with me. I have no idea of wha



he Creator put together in creatin

women, but in Alaka’s presence I often

felt as if a poem dripping with feelin

and set to a harmonious tune was movinabout in me. That poem was not a lov

heme but it was a beautiful blend o

smiles, affection and pathos.Those days filled with innocen

happiness, selfless love passed in n

ime. When Hastinapur was only twent

miles away, Mandar asked fo

permission to go ahead so as to prepar

for my welcome.

I gave him the permission but felt thaa welcome other than love in Mother’

eyes and the burning lamps of affectio

n Alaka’s eyes was quite unnecessary.



We reached Hastinapur late in the night

explained to Mother how I had me

Alaka.

I retired to bed after dinner. I though

Mother would bring up the subject o

Yati in the morning but she said nothing

She must have been very sorry that I hareturned alone. In life there is no pai

greater than disappointment.

The whole of the next day was busy

The Prime Minister and others calle

and talked about the coronation. Madha

called with his niece Taraka. I rang fo

Alaka to give her sweets but she did nocome. I was busy all day yet called fo

Alaka three or four times.

At dinner I asked Mother, ‘How is i



Alaka is nowhere to be seen?’

Mother almost ignored the questio

and said, ‘Yayu, you are now King o

Hastinapur. Kings think of princesse

and not of maids!’

Mother spoke without a trace o

feeling. I kept quiet but all the tastdishes in front of me turned sour and

got up from the table.

Mother beckoned me to her room and quickly followed her. She said, ‘Alak

s counting the last few moments of he

ife.’

I did not know if I was awake odreaming and said with a heavy heart

What?’

‘There is only one way to be born int



his world but death comes in man

different ways. There is no knowing how

t comes.’

‘But the royal physician ...’

‘In this there is no need for th

physician. It is a question of the prestig

of the royal household. That yomisbehaved on your travels ...’ Mothe

urned fiercely on me, adding, ‘To cur

ou of your dangerous illness I turne

Mukulika out of the Ashokavan and

warned her that she stood in danger o

her life if she returned to the town. If sh

were here today, all the symptoms oour illness ...’

I hung my head in shame. I did realis

hat I had behaved wantonly wit



reiterate the truth, it was unlikely that i

her present mood, Mother would believ

t.

As ruthlessly as one cuts through dr

wood, she tore at me with reprehensiv

words, ‘You are not at fault. It is my fate

which is to blame. It is in your blood. Aa wife I suffered a lot. I was hoping tha

suffering would not be my lot at least a

a mother. But ...’

Her words suddenly stopped. Sh

beckoned to me and I followed. I though

here was another underground passag

here. I descended behind her but I dinot dare to ask where we were going. I

was not far to go. At the far end, ther

was a cellar. There was a tall, fierce



ooking sentry at the door who salute

us.

Mother turned to me. ‘Go in but yo

can stay there for only ten minutes. It i

said that one should fulfil the last wis

of a dying person. Therefore I hav

shown Alaka this mercy ...’ She stoppedfor a while and said, ‘Listen, Prince

You will be king soon. If he so wills a

king can command a new beaut

everyday ...’

She turned away. The sentry opened

he door. I stepped inside dumbfounded

There was a low light in that smalnarrow room and I could not discer

anything there for a few moments. I the

saw Alaka squatting on the floor wit



her head between her knees. I went nea

with a heavy heart. She could not hav

heard me coming! I was very close t

her and put my hand on her shoulder. Iwas only then that she slowly looked up

She simply stared at me with water

eyes. Her face had gone black. Shpeered at me again and again and asked

Who is it?’

She could neither hear nor see. Terro

struck at my heart. I shook her violentl

by the shoulders and screamed, ‘Alaka!

She recognised my voice, a smil

slowly spread over her face and with heavy but caressing voice, she said

Who? Prince?’

I sat close to her and putting her hea



on my shoulder, said, ‘What is th

matter, Alaka?’

Nearby was an empty wine glass

With great difficulty she pointed to it an

said, ‘Ask that cup. That ... that ... cup

contained love, I ... I ... drank it.’

She could speak no more. Once shsaid with a heartache ‘... That ... that .

Mandar ... him ... him ... I ...’

She was getting convulsions. Suddenln a low voice from somewhere deep

down: ‘D ... d ... do ... do not forget me

M ... m ... my one ... golden hair ... kee

.. Oh! Oh!’I gently plucked a golden hair. Sh

was now in her last few moments and al

because of me! Should I not have give



her as a memento, somethin

mperishable to keep up her courage o

hat journey?

But in the presence of death, even

king turns a beggar. There was nothing

could give her.

Unconsciously I bent down and put mips to her. She was probably a littl

conscious and struggled to turn her hea

away. She muttered, ‘N ... no ... p .

poison!’

But she had not the strength to draw

away. I was madly kissing her.

That first kiss and this last kisonight! What a tragic episode life is! I

rying to draw away from me, sh

oppled to the ground. I tried to shak



her into wakefulness. The bird ha

flown away.

Her lifeless body was in front of me

Her soul — I wondered where her sou

was —

Mother shouted for me and I returne

o my room. The Prime Minister wawaiting for me. He explained that he ha

come at that hour of the night with goo

idings.

He said, ‘The war between the god

and demons has ceased. Kacha acquire

he power of Sanjeevani and coul

revive the dead on the side of the godsSo the demons ceased fire. It is a grea

relief, because if the demons had won

hey would have transgressed into ou



erritory.’

Kacha had acquired Sanjeevani! Th

war had stopped! To me all this wa

utterly insignificant. I was crying ou

desperately to myself, ‘My Alaka, wher

s she? Where is the only sister of th

brother hankering for affection?’1]The nymphs in Indra’s heaven.

2]Sanjeevani was a hymn which, when recited

had the power to bring the dead back to life.3]A festival at which a lady, normally

princess, chooses a husband from th

assembled suitors.

4]Rosary made of the seeds of the (L

Elaeocarpus Ganitrus tree, having specia

religious significance for the Hindus.



O

DEVAYAN

utside, it is spring. There is a gentlbreeze scented with fragrance, but I a

perspiring in my bed. Outside, the moo

of the fourteenth night looks like a hug

white lotus in full bloom. But my heart iblighted like the withered delicat

arijat flower. Outside, the cuckoo i

singing in sweet wild notes. But in m



heart, I can only hear the stifled notes o

he broken reed.

Can it be true that what lingers in th

mind comes back in dreams? Perhaps

perhaps not.

What a terrible dream it was! I wa

rembling all over when I woke up witfright.

Maybe I am angry with Kacha. Wh

he doubt? I am angry. I am very angryWhen he rejected my love and sought t

go away I pronounced the curse: ‘Th

power which you have acquired yo

will never be able to use.’ But is thaany reason why in the dream I should —

For many days after Kacha had left,

was still greatly distressed and ofte



Kacha was standing shackled in the

court. His eyes flashed like

lightning. King Vrishaparva, the

demon king, said to me, ‘The LordPreceptor Maharishi Shukra, your

father, is undergoing penance for

our uplift. Before he started on it, heordered me to see that you are

always happy. We all know that

Kacha has hurt you deeply.

Therefore, we have brought himhere from the kingdom of the gods.

He is your prisoner. You pronounce

the punishment and it will beinstantly carried out.’

What punishment can a true lover

award her love, even if he has



deceived her? At most, to make him

captive in her arms for all time. I

did not even order that. I pleaded

with the heartless one, ‘Kiss meonce ... only once!’ and added, ‘You

will be free from bondage if you

kiss me.’Even in the face of death, he was

arrogant. He said, ‘Devayani, they

cremated me and put my powdered

bones into Maharishi Shukra’s

wine. He drank it and I thereby got

access to his heart. It was there that

I learnt the Sanjeevani hymn whichnone else knows. But it was also

because of that I am now your

brother. You and I are the same



flesh and blood.’

I lost my temper. I said, ‘You seem

to think that Devayani is a silly

woman. It needs no great

intelligence to know that children

grow on the flesh and blood of the

mother, not of the father. I am nosister to you and you are no brother

to me. I am your lover. I beg nothing

more of you. Kiss me only once and

I shall issue orders to release you

thereon.’

King Vrishaparva said, ‘Devayani,

what shall be the punishment?’Kacha whose ashes Father had

swallowed with his wine and for

whose revival, even at the price of



losing Sanjeevani, I had begged

Father with folded hands — such a

Kacha to be punished! But how

could I —?

I said to King Vrishaparva, ‘Behead

Kacha and bring his head on a

salver to the court. I am going toshow you all what an adept

danseuse I am!’

Kacha was led out of the court and

beheaded. The guard brought his

bloody head in. I put the salver

down and danced the love theme

round it. Love smiles like a blooming flower and sometimes

flares like a fire. Sometimes it

twinkles like a star or it strikes like



lightning. It may take the form of a

tame deer or a vicious cobra! It may

rejuvenate or slay. I depicted all

this in my dance.

I do not know how long I danced

thus. I was intoxicated and could

see nothing except Kacha’s head.Blood was oozing from it and I

imagined it to be my lover’s head

anointed with the auspicious red

tilak [1]. I forgot that the head was

lifeless. I danced up to it, knelt

down and kissed it with the words:

‘Kacha dear, you did not want tokiss me, but there you are, I have

you in the end.’

am still in love with Kacha. How the



could I be so cruel? Where do dream

come from? Do they not stem from th

mind? Ah! I know now. A dream is like

an intricate weave. How did this dreacome to my mind —

Kacha used to say that a disciple mus

observe the vow of purity. He wouldgather wild flowers for me wit

unfailing regard but he never put them i

my hair. My slightest touch was to him

heavenly bliss and he used to come aliv

for an instant, even with a passing one

But he was constantly on the alert t

avoid it.Or is it that my foolish heart is still i

ove with him? And the conscious mind

hates him? Love and hate. Fire an



water.

When will this conflict of th

conscious and subconscious end? How

foolish, soft and blind is a woman’

heart! Kacha has never even enquired o

me since he left. He had achieve

Sanjeevani on the plea of my love fohim and returned to the realm of th

gods. He was hailed there as a grea

ascetic and hero! The mortal danger t

he gods had receded because of him.

Now he can claim any celestial beaut

of his choice. Why then should h

remember Devayani? Men are sungrateful! Wily, hard and heartless

Like the birds in a fable, they fly awa

with the net with ease. As for th



know. When she sees Devayani clad i

hat beautiful red sari ...

But that was given to me by Kacha. I

was a present he brought when he cam

o stay with us. Then he was in love wit

me! I had also fallen in love with him. I

would have been becoming if I had worhe red sari then. But to wear it now

when we are no longer in love? No, if

wear it now, the dying embers of tha

ove will flare up again in my mind. H

would climb impossible hill slopes i

order to collect the flowers which

fancied; he would sway like a cobra the tune of my autumn dance; he woul

recite his hymns in a low voice in

bower in the far corner of the garden les



t might wake me up in the earl

morning. Very rarely but in such swee

words he would say, ‘You are prettie

han the most beautiful damsel iheaven.’ If I countered with, ‘You are a

flatterer,’ he would retort with a smile

The world only worships the beautiful.Enough of those memories.

I am resolved to forget my love fo

Kacha. The sari that he presented mayb

t is very pretty. But why should I wea

t now? However beautiful, it should b

orn to shreds. It should be used for

mop. That would be an appropriatpunishment for the ungrateful wretch!

I fetched it from the pile of clothes se

apart for the spring festivities. I wishe



o tear it up. But my hands would no

move. Perhaps a man could have torn it

Almost certainly Kacha would have cu

t up to bits, but I am a woman. Thworship of the beautiful is our creed

Women can never destroy anything

beautiful.When I wear this tomorrow after th

spring festivities, I shall look s

enchanting. Sharmishtha is puffed wit

pride that her father is a king. Every now

and then she boasts about it. I must pu

her to shame at the festivities tomorrow

— I shall not tear this beautiful sari. Bu

he other things which remind me of him

turned to the bower in the garden. Thi



was his favourite spot. The bower mus

be ripped up.

It is fancied by Father also. What if h

asked me in the morning about it? It wil

be possible to explain it away. Th

oung calf in the cow shelter runs amuc

hese days. She must have broken loosat night and trampled on and ruined th

bower! Some much explanation —

I headed towards the bower when

heard someone calling me, ‘Devi.’

I was pleased with the word. It wa

good Father had mended his habits. Upt

esterday, always even before strangershe would without a thought call me

Deva.’ As if I was a boy! When he

called me thus before Kacha, I used t



blush red. All great men have som

queer trait. I insisted that he must neve

again call me Deva. He said, ‘Callin

ou Deva does not make you one ... yoare only a Devi.’ What could you do

with him? That a young maiden’s heart i

ike a sensitive plant and that, even littlhings caused embarrassment, wa

something which ascetics cannot realise

These men live in a world of their ow

all the time.

On hearing Father’s call I turne

round. He slowly came forward, raise

my chin, looked deep into my eyes ansaid, ‘You are still awake, my girl?’

‘I could not sleep, Father, so I thought

a turn in the garden ...’



He caressed my back and said, ‘

know you girl. There is nothing wors

han a broken heart ...’

It was distasteful to me to dwell o

Kacha anymore. In an effort to chang

he subject, I said, ‘Father, did m

movements wake you up?’He said no and with a gulp added

My defeat is a thorn in my side, my gir

am all the time thinking that I shoul

again undertake long penance an

acquire another unique power whic

will dazzle the world.’

‘Why don’t you begin then? I wasmall during your penance fo

Sanjeevani and hardly realised what

great man my father was. Now, I shal



attend on you and your penance, see tha

he

hardship ...’

He smiled derisively. ‘That is no

possible.’ I had lost Mother in m

childhood and Father brought me up lik

a delicate plant. Even so, why should hform such an unkind opinion of me? Wh

should he think that I am pleasure-lovin

and therefore cannot be of any servic

during a penance?

I was worried that Father might notic

he sari but he was absorbed in his ow

houghts.He seemed to look at the glowin

moonlight spread all over and said

Deva ...’



‘No, Devi ...’

‘Oh yes, I forget,’ he smiled back. ‘

could renounce wine instantly, but th

ongue has got used to your childhoo

name ...’ Later in great agony, he added

When I had the Sanjeevani, the entir

world trembled before me. But today, am only one of the thousands of ascetic

roaming the world. No, I cannot bear th

hought. My girl why should the lion liv

after he has lost his teeth and claws?’

What a terrible blow Kacha had struc

at my father by carrying away the powe

of Sanjeevani. Even after so long, thwound was bleeding. I consoled him

You could acquire another equally

potent power by penance, Father.’



‘I will, undoubtedly! Not one but man

but it will need grave penance. Las

ime, you were small. Now you hav

come of age and must be married. I dnot know for how many years th

penance will last considering that Lor

Shiva is a difficult, moody deity.’‘But, Father ...’

‘You were too small even to craw

about. Since then I have been both Fathe

and Mother to you. I found th

satisfaction of both knowledge and win

n your childish behaviour and I know o

no pleasure greater than these threeWhile I had the power of Sanjeevan

with me, any rishi, king or god woul

have made a bid for your hand. In m



zeal to see the demons win, I neglecte

all this. Today, my girl, the lord of the

rishis, your father is a penniless beggar

may have to fall at their feet begginhat one of them accept your hand i

marriage!’

I was furious with Father. It is true thpower of Sanjeevani was lost. Tha

maybe! But Devayani still had he

beauty. On the strength of that alone sh

—

* * *

All of us girls arrived at the huge lake i

he forest. The blue sky itself seemed t

have descended into the lake for us t



sport in the water. The trees wer

fanning it a little. Further away the girl

were squirting water at each other. Bu

none of them dared into deeper waters. said to Sharmishtha with a smile, ‘Wate

sport is not wetting oneself from a wate

vessel. Let us swim out so that thesgirls, frightened of water, will fee

reassured. Look there. Those two swan

playing with the lotus. They look lik

wo white clouds floating in the sky. Wewill swim out as far as there and com

back. Let us see who wins.’

Sharmishtha only smiled back and wwo set out. I was rapidly gainin

distance and swam like a fish. When

ooked back, there she was crawling lik



a tortoise. I was elated that today sh

would be put to shame. She was boun

o lose in this competition. When with

small face she returns to the bank beateo it, she will be even more furious t

see me in the red sari.

I reached the lotus, leaving her wabehind. But I was feeling tired. I reste

for a while but when I looked back

Sharmishtha had closed in on me.

urned back quickly and made for th

bank with all speed. I was swimmin

well but the speed had slackene

considerably. I was tired. There was gale blowing. The trees and creeper

were being violently tossed about an

dust filled the air, making it murky.



I was frightened and shouted t

Sharmishtha as she overtook me and wa

swimming away. She did not respond.

She was on the bank before me. Sh

was surrounded by half a dozen friends

With them, she went to the maid and

suddenly disappeared behind a tree.On getting to the bank I walked wit

my head hung low to the maid, who gav

me my clothes. I lost my temper. Thos

clothes were not mine. She had given t

Sharmishtha the beautiful sari presente

o me by Kacha, which I had intended t

put on. She had put on my beautiful sarihe one I had carefully put away for th

spring festivities! I was beside mysel

with fury and tugged at the sari she wa



wearing. Sharmishtha was afraid the sar

might come off.

Sharmishtha flared at me, ‘What d

ou mean, Devayani? Why are yo

annoyed with me for having lost th

race? If one is lame ...’

I retorted fiercely, ‘Whether I am lamor crippled, we will think of later. You

should first remedy your blindness

Whose clothes are you wearing?’

‘My own, of course.’

‘Have you lost your sight? This sari i

mine.’

‘No, it is mine. Mother told me las

night that she would give me the sar

which was presented to her by Indran

on the cessation of war.’



‘You had better return my sari.’

‘I will not. What can you do?’

I tugged at it and said, ‘What am

going to do? Do you know who I am?’

‘Oh, yes. I know very well that you

father is dependant on Kin

Vrishaparva!’I was dumb with fury.

With my silence, she was even mor

aggressive. She said, ‘You wretch! Afteall I am a princess and you are only th

daughter of a dependant of my father

ever again forget the difference.’

I was trembling with anger. I thought

was going to faint —

Our friends came on the scene. The

must have noticed that I was tremblin



and burst into laughter. The humiliatio

stung me. I wanted to return to the town

relate everything that had happened t

Father and say that I was not prepared tstay in that place a minute longer —

In fact I started running. I hear

Sharmishtha calling after me, ‘Devayanplease stop, Devayani stop for

second.’

I did not even look back.

Sharmishtha ran after me. Evidentl

her friends were also following. In

ittle while, I slowed down. I realise

hat she would now catch up on me.I looked back. She was very near m

and it was no use running. I looke

around. A little further there was a large



open well covered over with shrub an

grass. There was no knowing how muc

water it had! I stood by its mouth

Sharmishtha came near me.

‘Devayani ... I ... I ...’

The tigress in me showed up in plac

of the gentle deer. ‘Take off the sariGive it back to me ...’

She was muttering something like

But ... dear.’I tugged at it the harder screaming

Take it off. Will you not take it off?’

I have no recollection of wha

happened in the next few moments, o

what I or Sharmishtha said or did. Wha

remember is a sudden shriek, ‘Help

help.’ Was it Sharmishtha’s? Had



pushed her into the well? No — I wa

shrieking. She had wickedly pushed m

nto the well. I do not remember how

much later it was. I had fallen into thwell —

I shouted out aloud, ‘Help ... help m

out of the well.’ I shouted once, twicehrice! I shouted again after a while

Devayani had fallen into a wel

Devayani, daughter of Maharishi Shukr

had fallen into the well.

I was burning inside but the water wa

cold and I shivered. On the one hand

was burning for revenge and on the othestark fear had come over me. I could se

myself shivering, then dropping in a fain

and getting drowned. And I started



sobbing like a child.

Someone standing at the mouth of th

well was clearing the growth and ben

over, asking who it was.

It was a man’s voice. I could not mak

out whose and asked, ‘Who is it?’

‘Yayati.’Was I in a trance? I eagerly asked

You mean King Yayati of Hastinapur?’

‘Yes, I am King Yayati of HastinapurAbsorbed in hunting, we came deep int

his forest. We were very thirsty and

were looking for water. My chariotee

has gone another way and I thought I saw

a well here and came this way. But le

hat be. Who may you be fair lady?’

‘Please don’t be so formal.’



‘What do you mean?’

‘I shall tell you later. But first would

Your Majesty take me out? I am

shivering! But ... how will you get in?’

I first heard laughter and then swee

came the words, ‘Yayati has learn

archery in his younger days and some ots tricks too.’

I heard something like a hymn bein

chanted. This was a feat of archersomething like the power of Sanjeevan

noticed that the arrows had bee

arranged like a lotus to make a cradle o

which I was being lifted up.The lotus of arrows rose to the mout

of the well and stopped. Apart from

Kacha, I had never seen so handsome



man. I blushed under the gaze of th

King. I hung my head. My wet clothe

clung to my body.

I was still looking down. The Kin

smiled at me and said, ‘May I have th

favour of knowing the name of thi

angel?’‘I am not an angel.’

‘Is it possible that there is so muc

beauty on earth?’My beauty had captivated the King

but I had to load that beauty with a littl

more. I looked up with a coy glance an

ooking down again, said, ‘I aDevayani, daughter of Maharish

Shukra.’

‘Maharishi Shukra, the Lord Precepto



of the Demons?’

‘Yes. I would prefer you to be les

formal.’

The King smiled and said. ‘If I hav

been of some service to Maharish

Shukra today all the weariness of th

hunt will have vanished from me.’I put out my right hand. He took it i

his right and helped me out. He tried t

disengage his hand when I said, ‘No, yocan’t. You have taken my hand in

marriage.’

He was taken aback. ‘How is

possible? You are a Brahmin and I am aKshatriya king! Such a marriage ...’

‘There have been many suc

marriages in the past, Your Majesty



There is the precedent of Lopamudra ...’

‘No, no.’

With a smile I said, ‘Fate apparentl

wills Your Majesty, that I should be

our queen. Why otherwise would yo

have come to this forest today? It coul

only happen from something done in ouearlier birth.’

‘But fair one ...’

‘There can be no hesitation, YouMajesty. I gave you my heart the momen

saw you. You are free to accept it or

refuse me. If you do not make me yours,

shall retire to a cave in the Himalayaand tell the rosary in your name for th

rest of my life. A virgin like me, who

has never even thought of a man before



would not otherwise hold someone’

hand even for a moment.’

‘But Devayani, your father is revere

as a rishi in all the three worlds! If h

does not approve of this alliance ...’

‘You need have no care ... Oh, bu

how foolish of me to forget that you arhirsty.’

‘At the mere sight of you, I hav

forgotten hunger and thirst. I had set ouo capture a comely deer. I myself hav

been captured by her.’

I smiled and hung my head blushing.

said to myself, ‘Rishis like Father aronly fit for penance. Only last nigh

Father was so worried about getting m

married. Now, when I bow to him for



blessing not as Devayani but as th

Queen of Hastinapur how surprised h

will be!’

I wished that wily Kacha had als

been here to witness the revenge I hav

aken. Truly, how pleasing even revenge

can be.

The King suggested that we should go t

he town in the chariot and apprisFather of all this, but I did not want to g

anywhere where Sharmishtha stil

paraded as a princess.

That was not necessary. Just then

chariot arrived post haste raising a clou

of dust and stopped short of us.

King Vrishaparva and Father go



down. Father took me into his arms.

was overcome with pride and joy an

closed my eyes. Tears were streamin

down Father’s eyes. The great asceticMaharishi Shukra was shedding tears o

oy.

He suppressed a sob with greadifficulty and said. ‘Dev ...’

I said, ‘Father, Devi is no longe

ours.’

He was surprised. I glanced bashfull

and meaningfully at King Yayati and

owered my eyes.

King Yayati came forward and bowedo Father. With his help I related

everything. Father was delighted an

gave us a hearty blessing, then turned t



King Vrishaparva with the words

Good fortune sometimes comes by wa

of calamity. King, make arrangements to

celebrate her nuptials. Bedeck the wholown. This is a day of great rejoicing fo

he demon world. Once I have sai

farewell to her and sent her on the wao her new house, I shall be free t

undertake another penance. Fate, whic

had turned perverse, seems to b

changing. Come King Yayati ... Let us goo the town in this chariot. Devi ... yo

go ahead ...’

I did not move or open my mouthKing Vrishaparva came forward and

said, ‘Forget the past ...’

I was up in arms and said, ‘It is eas



for the aggressor to forget. But the nast

hings which she said about Father .

words which pierced the heart ...’

Father’s tone had hardened, ‘What di

Sharmishtha say?’

I said, ‘How can I tell you, Father

She derided me with the words, “I am princess and you are but the daughter o

a dependant”.’

Vrishaparva said with humility, ‘Mygirl, Sharmishtha also is young like you

She told me just now that you ha

quarrelled over a sari. The young ar

mmature and lose their balance. Onword provokes another ...’

‘Is she not to blame even for pushin

me into the well?’



‘Who would say that? But rage i

blind. I beg of you to forgive her.’

‘Begging is the creed of dependant

ike Father ... not of kings like you! I

Father wishes to, he can go into th

own. But I do not wish even to g

where Father and I have been grosslnsulted. My father who is famed as a

ascetic in the three worlds has bee

denigrated as a beggar.’

Father had kept silent so long. H

oined in, ‘And, King, neither will I

That I should be insulted and an attemp

should be made on my daughter’s life ...Vrishaparva intervened, ‘Lord

Preceptor, Devayani has somehow

misunderstood ...’



Father thundered, ‘I am leaving. I hav

no time to waste on the right and wron

of it.’

Vrishaparva fell at father’s feet. ‘If th

Lord Preceptor himself thus turned hi

back on us, what will be our fate excep

being annihilated? I shall immediatelsend for Sharmishtha and direct her t

fall in obeisance at your feet an

Devayani’s a hundred times and beg fo

our forgiveness. If you think this to

mild, I shall banish her from the kingdo

his instant.’

‘She has deeply offended Devayani, shall return to the town only if she i

willing to suffer, without demur, the

punishment given by Devayani.’



‘Maid ... ?’ Interjected Kin

Vrishaparva in agony, with a wry

expression, suddenly aged.

I had won. I said in a shrill voice

Yes, Sharmishtha must be maid to the

Queen of Hastinapur. She must go wit

me to Hastinapur, to wait on me all heife.’

1]Sacred mark of sandal or kumkum, etc., o

the forehead.



T

SHARMISHTHA

he hour has struck. One out of the twhours has gone by! In the hour — in tha

short time — I must make a life’

decision. To be Devayani’s maid or ...

Father’s note is lying there. His firsand only letter to his dear daughter! Hi

Shama had so far never gone away fro

him! Where, then, was the occasion t



write a letter? It is here today — a

unpredictable occurrence, an enem

from an earlier life come for revenge.

Today — on the first day of the sprin

festivities — the sun rose as o

everyday in my childhood, sprinkling hi

red glow through the window all oveme. All of a sudden I blushed. Th

reddish dawn seemed like the sacrificia

fire at a wedding. Then I remembere

Mother’s words while sending me t

bed. Caressing me she had said, ‘Shama

t is very well that the war has ceased

ow we can look for one of the gookings ... I believe the King of Hastinapu

s very brave and good. While yet

outh he went out with the victory hors



o conquer the world. They say he i

very handsome too. He would be just th

right man for this delicate flower o

mine.’ It is true that on hearing this feigned to be angry and pulled th

coverlet over my face. But the whol

night I did float on sweet dreams. One ohose dreams had taken me to Hastinapu

where I had been made the Queen o

King Yayati!

Even when I woke up at dawn, th

sweet dreams were still with me. Bu

how terrible life is. How full o

contradictions! How bitter in contrast ta dream! Before the morning sun ha

urned westward, fate has called me t

Hastinapur! Not as queen but as th



queen’s maid.

* * *

During spring festivities in the morning

said many things to hurt Devayan

which I should not have done. But howcould I help it? I had lost control ove

myself, my tongue and in fact everything

Was it my fault that she was born to a

sage and not a king? But time and again

at every step she has obstinately strive

o establish that I am no match for her.

We may have been three or four yearold. The nurses had taken us out boating

Devayani bent over the side and clappe

with joy, saying, ‘Shama, see this prett



girl calling me to play with her.’ I ben

over the side and saw another gir

resembling me, also calling me with

smile. I said, ‘Look a pretty girl icalling me also!’ She sniffed and

squealed, ‘No. Your girl is ugly, mine is

pretty.’We were eight or ten years when in

one of the plays at the spring festivities

he school teacher gave us both a part

She was to be the queen of flowers and

he forest queen. Devayani was prett

and good at dancing; so she was chose

o be the queen of flowers. She had beegiven three dances; first portraying th

bud, then the half blown flower and the

he flower in full bloom. The fores



Sharmishtha is a princess that the judge

have unjustly rated her poem higher.

The judges had to divide the priz

between us. That time my only first prizwas in sketching. And that becaus

Devayani just could not draw.

Her father had secured the power oSanjeevani. The demons were to score

victory over the gods from that power

Father accordingly aimed at no

offending Devayani and I had to follow

suit.

Many instances of her vanity lingere

deep in my mind. That morning when shried to snatch the sari which I wa

wearing, it all exploded. How can

explain it?



Some nasty offensive words escape

from my mouth. But they are about t

ruin my whole life. For that one mistake

a princess is to be reduced to be a maid

Sharmishtha — a maid? I, to be mai

o that heartless stone image in love wit

herself? No, that cannot be!

o, I was not merely guilty of offendin

words. Mother has told me that the sars Devayani’s. That Kacha had presente

t to her. I should not have worn it. Why

did Mother not show me the clothe

properly last night? How was I to know

hat the sari was not mine? No, it wa

altogether a mistake that I was born

princess. It is because of that, that I hav



grown to depend on the maids fo

everything. To what end? Devayani’

nsistence that Sharmishtha must be he

maid all her life.

She maintains I pushed her into th

well. I ran after her to hold her back

She was there already. In the scuffle, shost her balance and fell in. I still thin

so.

There are only two witnesses in thi

world to good and bad, to truth an

falsehood and to right and wrong, Kach

used to say. One is conscience and th

other is omniscient God.If I thought He might come, I woul

have asked God for an answer to th

errible dilemma before me. Devayan



has imposed slavery on me for life

Shall I or shall I not accept it?

Father’s letter says:My dear daughter, if you ask me as

your father whether you should

agree to be a maid, I shall never

consent.

But man has several roles to play at

the same time. We have been utterly

defeated with Kacha’s acquisitionof Sanjeevani.

It is in such adverse circumstances

that the demons must again rise. The patronage of Maharishi Shukra is

vital to us. He has unbounded love

for Devayani. If the conditions set

by her are not met, he will never



again set foot in our town and in his

absence, our kingdom will be razed

to the ground. We who aspire to

conquer the inter-stellar space will

be reduced to crawling on earth.

Shama, I shall not be angry if you

refuse. I could not make up my mindwhat to do. That is why I wrote this

letter.

Shama. My beloved Shama! May

Lord Shiva guide you to choose

what will ever after make you

happy.

From childhood at weddings I had ofte

heard the words, ‘The moment ha

come.’ Recently I had come to realise it



a mate, the joy of motherhood?

No, I shall tell Father that rather tha

be a maid to Devayani, I shall turn

mendicant! If she wishes to aveng

herself, send for her and in her presence

behead me yourself. But remember

please, even the lifeless head must nofall at her feet. I shall not on my lif

accept being a maid. Not even in

dream. Shall I consent to be Devayani’

maid?

I was deep in thought. Think, think

hink. My head was ready to split.

And all because of what? I had bmistake worn this sari. This sari whic

was Kacha’s present to Devayani. Thi

sari — I swear by my father — I onl



wore it by mistake.

Does destiny have a hand in thi

abnormal occurrence? Kacha came her

for Sanjeevani. He was our enemy. Bu

at heart I worshipped him for hi

earning, his devotion and sacrifice an

his manner. I often wished I had him fomy elder brother.

Devayani never let me talk to hi

freely or be natural with him. She wa

ealous. But even his presence cheere

me up. I was happy with even a smil

from him. I recalled for days together a

occasional word uttered by him.The demons mercilessly tortured hi

o death three times. But everytime h

said, ‘Some things, which are terrifyin



from a distance, are not in fact quite s

frightful. Death is the same. Princess

hese are words drawn from m

experience.’ And with that he wouldsmile genially.

What do those words mean? Coul

Kacha foresee the future? Being a maidwhat else is it but death? The death o

one’s individuality.

And do individual qualities an

defects hang by a caste? Both Kacha an

Devayani are Brahmins. But does sh

share even one of his qualities? No. I

ife nothing whatever follows birth ocaste.

For a Brahmin, what great courage di

Kacha show in coming to our kingdo



for Sanjeevani. He put all Kshatriyas t

shame. He stayed his ground fearlessl

until he had acquired Sanjeevani.

This sari — it is an unwitting gift fro

Kacha to me! I must keep it all my life.

remembered him only because of th

difficulty before me — Who has escaped danger an

difficulty? On the contrary, difficultie

are more to the lot of the good ones o

earth. Kacha was so good, so selfless

so affectionate and so learned. Even so

did he have any less of misery? The pai

of shattered love and the curse of thbeloved. But there was not a flicker o

unhappiness on his face.

I said, ‘I would have been happy t



bid you goodbye if you were returning t

heaven with your bride. But ...’

He calmly replied, ‘Princess, life i

ever incomplete, all its beauty lies in it

being so.’

This is a good philosophy. But I had

read in the epics how enormous is thpain of shattered love. I had crie

profusely reading of it. I said, ‘Would i

not have been better if one did not fall i

ove in the first instance?’

He said, ‘No. Love bestows th

quality of being able to look beyon

oneself. When it is altruisticdispassionate and humble it becomes th

first step to progress.’

That day Kacha was in a hurry to g



away but he nonetheless came to see m

and said, ‘Sharmishtha, do not b

distressed that our love has come t

nought. Even if I have failed in love, experienced love. That memory wil

ever be with me. Your friend Devayan

s short tempered and an egoist. I aconscious of these faults! True love ha

he power to accept the beloved despit

he faults. Such was my love fo

Devayani. But I had to disappoint her fohe good of my fellow beings.

‘What could I do? Love is a loft

sentiment in life but duty is even higherDuty is very exacting but it is the basi

of all religion. If Devayani ever open

her heart to you, tell her only this



“Kacha’s heart is wedded to duty. But

corner of that heart is forever hers.” ’

I failed to see how for so long I ha

overlooked that last meeting of Kach

and his words. I was groping in the dark

could not see a ray of light, but Kach

had shown it. I ran to the door as thhour tolled. Mother opened the door as

was about to. I ran into her arms, smile

and said, ‘Tell Father to mak

arrangements for my going t

Hastinapur. Sharmishtha is ready to b

Devayani’s maid.’

* * *

was a little shaken while entering th



palace at Hastinapur, I will not deny it

But I soon recovered and took my plac

as a maid.

Devayani called on the Queen Mothe

and I followed her. The Queen Mothe

said, ‘Devayani, my daughter, you

friend is as pretty as you are.’Devayani was arrogant. ‘Mother, sh

s Princess Sharmishtha. But I did no

bring her as my companion. She is n

onger a princess. She is a maid ... m

maid.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘His Majesty will tell you what great sage my father is ...’

‘Your father-in-law King Nahusha

was also a great warrior. That



Kshatriya princess should be a maid i

his his palace is not what I conside

proper.’

‘That is for me to decide!’ retorted

Devayani and she walked out. I had bee

he cause of this first clash betwee

mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. Buclashes would continue.

Devayani had been a spoilt child. Th

Queen Mother also was perhaps cast i

he same mould. It was like two streak

of lightning crashing in the sky. Fate had

similarly brought these two together.

The clashes sometimes brought munexpected happiness! Occasionally

was reminded of my mother’s lovin

hand. The memory made me very uneasy



But after a clash between the two, th

Queen Mother would draw me near her

maybe to taunt Devayani or because

was a Kshatriya princess and pat me ohe back. That relieved the agonisin

memory of Mother. It may have been

only a show but even such illusions helpmake life bearable.

Once the Queen Mother’s lov

showed up in a strange way. A

renowned palmist had come to the town

Devayani sent for him and showed hi

her hand. He predicted that a son woul

be born to her in a year’s time. We werall happy. I happened to be there. Th

Queen Mother took my hand, made m

sit down and asked him to read my hand



Devayani scowled at this! But I wa

helpless before the Queen Mother.

He looked at my hand for a long tim

and said, ‘This girl is unfortunate.’

Devayani said, ‘ Panditji, she is only

maid, not a princess!’

He was surprised and looked up. Hscanned the hand again and said, ‘Sh

has much to go through but her son ...

Devayani laughed and pointed out thasince I was her maid, who was going t

marry me and from where would a so

come?

The palmist was annoyed that hiknowledge of the science was bein

scoffed at. He turned to Devayan

Forgive me, Your Majesty. I know my



science. I know nothing else. I am tellin

ou of what I can read in this palm! He

son will be heir to a throne.’

Devayani was grave when she said

By throne do you mean the skin of

dead lion? Will you look at her hand

again?’My heart bled with the taunt! I quickl

withdrew my hand and rushed out of th

room lest tears should come to my eyes.

That night I cried into a wet pillow

Which young maiden does not dream o

a husband and their children? Where i

he girl who does not toss restless in he

bed, contemplating the shape and form i

which those dreams would come true i



her case?

I was just such a one. But I had com

o Hastinapur with all such dream

urned to ashes. I was a maid t

Devayani. She had full authority ove

me. Perhaps she will never let me marr

anybody anytime. Where the prospect omarriage was doubtful the hope of a so

and his being heir to a throne — how

could a maid like me entertain it? But th

palmist today —

As the delicate red shoot of a lea

sticks out from a grave covered wit

black stone, the prediction stood out imy mind! Sharmishtha, who had not she

a single tear even at parting from he

parents, was now shedding copious tear



n the frightening solitude of the palace.

With the memory of Father, my mind

woke up. I remembered clearly ever

moment of bidding farewell to him.

I was about to leave the palace wher

had grown up from birth. Father stoo

still and erect like a mountain. Therwas not even a flutter in my eyes. I wen

up to him and bent before him with

bow, saying, ‘Goodbye, Father.’

waited an instant for his blessing. H

said nothing but put his head on my feet

was confused, drew back an

somehow, quickly raised him up. As hwas getting up, he said, ‘My girl, I a

not fit to receive your obeisance. You

are not a daughter but a mother. Mother



we your children crave your blessing.’

I melted and asked, ‘Father, how

would you have felt if I was your so

and you had to send me to war?’

‘I would have been proud!’

‘You should feel the same pride at thi

moment. Father, your Shama is goinnto battle and seeks your blessing.’

had nothing to do unless Devayani gavme some work. Every vacant hour was

bore. In the end, I found an excellen

means to occupy myself. I was earlie

fond of drawing. Thereafter I spen

every spare moment in painting.

Having some hobby is an unfailin

palliative for misery. I do not know how



good my paintings were! But in paintin

hem, my mind had an occupation. How

many sketches I made of a wee littl

rabbit alone!

And it is not only the wee little rabbit

The deer, the peacock, the swan and fo

hat matter, all animal life.What a variety of flowers there is o

earth with their variegated colour an

odour. What numerous genii of trees and

creepers. The sunrise and the sunset ar

different everyday. Moonlight in th

spring, a river in the rainy season, th

green crops of autumn and the leaflesrees of winter — everything is a f

subject for painting.

I thought of life in this vein. Variety i



He would retort, ‘You are Devayani’

maid, not mine.’

His Majesty was very fond of chewin

betel leaf. Devayani used to make it fo

him. One day he was apparently no

satisfied with the one she had given him

Devayani was lying on a bed. I wafanning her. She asked me to mak

another one for His Majesty which h

iked. He then stood before the mirro

and called out to Devayani, ‘Look at m

mouth.’

‘What kind of a jest is this? I do no

ike such levity.’‘This is no joke.’ He opened hi

mouth. Just like a child he was. It wa

flaming red. The betel leaf had coloure



t really well. He said, ‘It is believe

hat the betel leaf made by the perso

who loves more colours the better ...’

‘I see. So Sharmishtha loves yo

more. Then you should have marrie

her.’

His Majesty should not have indulgen such a joke. Devayani raised Cain i

he palace that day. The news soo

spread and the maids were whispering!

was dying of shame. Never again did

make any betel leaf for him! But i

Devayani was not around, he would as

me if I had any! I had to say no a dozeimes. Thereafter I always secretl

carried one on my person and I woul

give it to him quietly when no one wa



near. Sometimes he would say to

Devayani, significantly meaning me

Your betel leaf coloured very wel

ndeed.’

* * *

What do memories resemble? Th

straying butterfly? Girls playing hide an

seek? The colour gradually merging int

he background and heightening th

beauty of the picture? The lightnin

flitting unrestrained in the monsoon sky

Who knows!The one memory which should hav

been related first, still lingers in th

mind.



Majesty will need betel leaf now an

again. I shall send you away when Hi

Majesty is fast asleep. I do not want an

other maid here today.’

Could not Devayani have taken th

salver into the apartment? But —

Devayani went in. I got the beteeaves ready quickly and stood far awa

with the salver. In a little while Hi

Majesty came along and I offered hi

one. He did not touch it. He did not hee

me. All he may have been conscious o

was that there was a maid standing there

That was natural! One whom even aApsara would have envied for he

beauty was waiting for him inside. H

had no eyes for anyone except her.



The door was closed and I stood ther

solitary like a ghost with the salver i

my hand. The mind was now strayin

wildly. I had pangs of regret that if only had not quarrelled with Devayani tha

day, I would not have been subjected to

his degradation; but it was not regrealone. It was tinged with curiosity abou

ove and the fulfilment of love.

Suddenly, angry words vaguely cam

o my ears. It was Devayani.

The first night of the honeymoon? I

should have been steeped in love. The

why such words of anger?I had heard of the heavenly bliss tha

crowns the union of lovers. An empt

pot reverberates while being filled; bu



he sound ceases when it is full to th

brim. The hearts of lovers are the same

recalled one poet describing thi

blessed state with the words — whehe hearts are filled with love, there i

no room for words.

But angry words could be heard fronside the royal bedroom. It wa

Devayani talking — by comparison, Hi

Majesty’s tone was lower.

Suddenly, out came Devayani flingin

open the door. She was rushing to he

apartment. I stepped forward a little

holding out the salver. She blazed at meflung the salver away from my hand an

went away trampling on some of th

betel leaves.



T

YAYAT

he first night of our honeymoon. In thife of a husband and wife, the first nigh

s so intoxicating, so poetic and so ful

of mysterious intimacy, that it i

something they have never experiencebefore. The confluence of two rivers, th

kiss of the sky and earth — no. Even

great poet could not adequately portra



far. Visions of her, many and varied

haunted me; like her wet figure when sh

stepped out of the well blushing

Devayani bedecked with jewels ansitting next to me by the sacrificial fire.

Even after drinking in her beauty a

will, my eyes were still thirsty. I desiredfor the Devayani hidden behind the man

visible forms.

I went into the apartment. I closed th

door and looked round. There wa

Devayani on the bed, half sitting up, he

eyes full of meaning. I impatiently wen

forward and sat on the bed. She wastanding now. I smiled and said, ‘On

has to offer one’s hand to help a lady ou

of the well but is it necessary to offer



for sitting down?’

I thought she would blush and sa

something lively. But she stood silent

There was a crease on her forehead —

could not make out whether her ange

was real or feigned.

To propitiate her I said, ‘My fatheonce defeated Indra. I am going to do

again.’

I thought she would quickly comforward and blushingly say, ‘We have

more pleasant and intimate things to tal

about than war just now.’ Or perhaps, ‘

shall be your charioteer in thcampaign.’ So I thought.

‘I shall conquer Indra with your help,

shall ask him if there is a beauty t



match you in heaven,’ was somethin

ike what I was going to say. But sh

never gave me the opportunity. I though

she maybe ruffled due to somdisagreement with Mother. However,

decided to stay out of it.

An angry woman makes a prettpicture. Looking at her, I forgot mysel

and pulled her to me on the bed. I lifte

up her face and was bending over to kis

her.

She pushed me away and like a

nfuriated cobra turned on me and stoo

n a far corner. I was unable tounderstand her strange behaviour. He

obstinate and short tempered manner ha

been apparent in her insistence o



making Sharmishtha her maid. I had see

t myself. But that to me — her husban

— she should behave like this.

I controlled my rising temper and said

Devayani I do not understand ...’

‘There is nothing to understand. It i

errible. Today, here on this auspiciouoccasion ... at the happiest moment of m

ife, that you should be drunk ... th

smell of your mouth ...’

I said, ‘I have not been drinkin

iquor. Only a little wine.’ I added

sarcastically, ‘I am fortunate that I am

not a Brahmin and am permitted liquor. was furious with her that she shoul

have ruined the exquisite joy of a happ

occasion on a slight pretext.



She retorted, ‘You may not be a

Brahmin but I am the daughter o

Maharishi Shukra. I cannot bear th

smell of liquor even at a distance.’

‘As you are a daughter, you are also

wife. I am a Kshatriya and drink is no

prohibited to a Kshatriya.’‘But Father has given it up. And “he

abhors liquor.’ He? Who was this he

Angry that I was, I was now suspicious.

I shouted, ‘Who is he?’

She was biting her lips i

exasperation when she replied, ‘I am no

afraid of anyone to name him. Kachalso was averse to liquor.’

A tinge of jealousy sparked in me.

said harshly, ‘This is the palace o



Hastinapur. This is neither the hermitag

of Maharishi Shukra nor the cottage o

Kacha. I am nobody’s slave. I am th

King of Hastinapur ... Yayati. I am Lordand Master here. Kacha has no plac

here. And Maharishi Shukra has no

business to interfere here. You are mywife and it is your duty to tend to m

happiness ...’

‘You can tend to your happines

ourself ...’ said Devayani fiercely, he

eyes sparking with barbs of fire. Sh

banged the door open and walked out.

I collapsed on the bed. That terriblcurse on Father. ‘The children of Kin

ahusha will never be happy.’

This was to have been the night of th



consummation of our love. I did not eve

dream that the curse would prove itsel

n this strange way on this our first nigh

of love. The craving body and thagitated mind tore at me all night.

I had come to the apartment with grea

expectation. I desired Devayani. desired all of her. I was now very eage

o experience a love much nobler an

more intense than the vulgar momentar

pleasure such as that which I had share

with Mukulika. But —

This brought back to my mind Alaka’death, which was soon followed by th

coronation. Mother gave me her heart

blessings. She had her fill of Yayati’s



appearance in regal clothes and roya

splendour. But at the same time, Kalik

was wiping her tears away in a corner a

he memory of her daughter.

Mother saw those tears and sh

chastised her with harsh words! ‘Leav

he palace this instant and go to yousister’s. Don’t cry here in ill omen.’ My

hair stood on end at Mother’s words.

I was very angry with Mother.

resolved in the instant that somehow o

other Alaka’s death must be avenged.

As a first step in that revenge

stopped talking to Mother. I indulgedmyself at will in wine and hunting

Deliberately, I rejected individuall

everyone of the pretty princesse



enthusiastically chosen by Mother. Thi

satisfied my thirst for revenge a little, i

respect of Alaka, but I was dissatisfied

with life and thirsty for somethinundefined.

It was in this state of mind that

reached the foot of the Himalayas whilhunting. While in chase of deer I entere

he demon kingdom and returned wit

Devayani as my bride to Hastinapur.

That day I accepted Devayan

nstantly. What a strangely mysteriou

occurrence! I looked upon it as ver

romantic.That I was taken with her because o

her sheer beauty is true. But I als

hought I would wreak sweet vengeanc



on Mother by marrying her. Mother wa

keen on a Kshatriya princess for

daughter-in-law! My marrying th

daughter of a Brahmin sage would be permanent thorn in her side. She woul

earn that fate avenges the murder of a

nnocent girl.That I accepted Devayani’s hand i

marriage was not for these two reason

only. The shadow of a deadly curse from

a great sage hung on our family. It would

need the blessing of an equally grea

sage to ward off that curse. He woul

undertake grave penance to counter thcurse.

Without a thought for the past or futur

and without consulting anyone, Devayan



was eager to be my bride; I was equall

eager to take her hand in marriage.

However, my personal experience o

Devayani’s father, Maharishi Shukra

proved quite different. He was very fon

of his daughter. But he did not seem to

value much the fact that she was the wifof a great king. Maharishi Shukra had n

hought for the fact that it was necessar

o identify himself with my well bein

and to earn my goodwill.

Sharmishtha readily agreed to b

Devayani’s maid! She had willingl

sacrificed herself to the burning anger oDevayani, so that Maharishi Shukr

might not leave them in a huff, so that sh

might not imperil the safety of he



people. That was great of her; but as a

ascetic, an elderly wise man or at leas

as the friend and preceptor of Kin

Vrishaparva, should he not havconsoled Sharmishtha?

I was in the demon kingdom for only

short while. But even in that space oime, it was borne in on me that fathe

and daughter lived in a world of thei

own.

When sending the daughter away t

her new house, tears rise in ever

father’s eyes. Maharishi Shukra was n

exception. But he immediately took maside and said, ‘King, Devayani is m

only daughter. Remember, her happines

s my happiness. Remember always, tha



my blessing is in itself a great power o

earth. You have yourself witnessed how

King Vrishaparva has had to give in

how Sharmishtha has had to humiliatherself by having to be Devayani’s maid

So beware, never do anything at anytim

o hurt Devayani. Do not forget that heunhappiness is my unhappiness.’

I had thought that he would als

address a few words of advice t

Devayani. I had heard that on such a

occasion, it was usual to counsel

oung bride married to a king, how sh

should tend to the comfort of thhousehold, how it is her duty as a wif

o conduct herself to contribute to he

husband’s happiness, how she should



ive in amity even with her co-wives

But after all Shukra is a great sage. I

never occurred to him to offer any suc

advice on mundane matters! In the end, ook my leave thinking that the great ar

n a world apart.

t was well past midnight. I had hear

he hour toll a long time ago. All thes

memories were crowding my mind and was tossing in bed and turning over fro

side to side. I could not sleep.

One moment I thought the whol

palace must be astir with the scenwhich Devayani had created today. No

one could have seen elsewhere,

maiden arrogantly running out of th



bedroom on the marriage night. Th

stringency of social obligation

ncreases with the status. But wha

should never happen even in a hovel haoday taken place in the palace.

How much better it would have bee

f man did not have imagination enougo build castles in the air.

Devayani will come now sometim

and with her coming we shall forge

everything. I shall say, ‘You have been

brought up in very differen

surroundings. I should have known that

Forgive me for this once. You will nosee Yayati with a drink inside him in

our bedroom. If that is not enough,

swear by you, never to touch a drop



again. Never again will my lips touc

any liquor anywhere.’ She will put he

hands round me and say, ‘Like me you

have also grown up in a very differenenvironment. You are a Kshatriya

warrior king, you have to rule and g

nto battle. The stimulus of liquor inecessary to you. It is not right for me t

stand in the way of such trivia

ndulgences. But what can I do? I jus

cannot bear the smell of alcohol. All beg of you is that, hereafter you shoul

not take a drink before coming to me.’

Another hour tolled. I was still tossinabout in bed! Without rhyme or reason

was listening for Devayani’s footstep

But none came.



I got up from bed with a tormente

mind. The pricking of disgrace and

craving body are indeed strange. Lik

he poison of a snake, outwardlnsignificant but mortally effectiv

within.

I was looking out into the darknesfrom the window. I had take

Devayani’s hand in marriage to gain

ove nobler and greater than wha

Mukulika or Alaka had given me. But th

bed of roses which I had chosen for th

bridal night was infested with the youn

of reptiles.The man in me woke up! The king i

me was roused. I kept repeating t

myself that I could find the pleasure



was seeking anywhere at anytime o

earth. I am an uncommon man, a warrio

and a great king, and if I so will, I ca

have a new beauty in my bed everyday.

Next morning also, I was still ver

angry. I thought of going hunting to a fa

off place, when Sharmishtha came ihurriedly and with folded hands said

Her Majesty is not well since last night

The royal physician was called a littl

while ago. There is no cause for anxiety

But if Your Majesty would be pleased to

call on her, Her Majesty is likely to

benefit more than by any medicine.’While talking, Sharmishtha had

fascinating smile on her face. It seeme

ike the golden streak of lightning in



cloudless sky. I suddenly remembered

— last night there was a maid standin

outside with something in a salver.

ried to recall. I did not remembeclearly. I asked her, ‘You ... were you

standing outside yesterday?’

She hung her head as much as to saes! How was it I did not notic

Sharmishtha last night? Had I bee

pressed into drinking too much wine?

Seeing that I was thoughtful she said

Your Majesty, I have been He

Majesty’s friend from childhood. Sh

has always been a bit short temperedYour Majesty must not take it to heart.’

She paused a little and then said, ‘A

maid may not indulge in poetry, it is true



but all poets agree that love is tam

without strife.’ My heart unconsciousl

melted looking at her. She was pleadin

for Devayani who had last night madher stand outside the bedroom and thu

rampled on and tried to crush all he

ender feelings.I said in jest, ‘Sharmishtha, who taugh

ou such love?’

Idly looking at her nails, she queried

Must one have a teacher fo

everything?’

‘Who has attained knowledge in thi

world except through the words of preceptor? And love is the greates

knowledge of all. Even greater tha

Sanjeevani.’



‘In that case, I will give you the nam

of my tutor!’ She said ‘It is Kacha!’

‘Kacha?’ I interjected in surprise.

Sharmishtha urged, ‘Is not You

Majesty coming to the Queen’

apartment?’

I went to Devayani’s rooms witSharmishtha following me. My agitate

mind had calmed down talking to her

Anger had given place to forgiveness.Was Devayani really ill? I do no

know. But I thought her wan fac

resembled the gloomy paleness of th

moon, showing behind grey clouds. ook her hand in mine. Our hand

conveyed what we could not say i

words or express in our eyes.



I bent down to kiss the tears away

Suddenly she clasped my hands and sai

n an endearing tone — not unlike th

drawl of a person half awake — ‘Youwill not take it again?’

I realised she was talking abou

iquor. My pride was hurt. But Devayanwas ill. My Devayani was ill! It wa

necessary that nothing should be done t

upset her.

She rubbed her palm — delicate as

flower — on mine and said, ‘You won’

ake it? For my sake ...’

‘Promise me,’ she said, smiling.Outwardly smiling I said, ‘To retai

his tender hand in mine for all time,

could make a hundred promises!’



‘Oh no. It is not that easy. You have to

swear by the feet of my father.’

It was very difficult for me to hol

myself in this time. But I did somehow

and took the oath.

Devayani was smiling now. It was no

he smile of a lover only, it waobviously tinged with pride. It was th

smile of a pretty woman, who in he

arrogance thought she could reduce

man to utter subjection.

I had suffered sheer defeat in this firs

battle of love. I religiously kept m

word about liquor. Our life was nownormal.

I still recall those days. The day

hardly count. I mention them as day



because the sun used to rise in betwee

and separate us for twelve hours or so

Otherwise, if it were night, Yayat

would be swimming in an ocean opleasure, all the time.

At dawn, I would be annoyed at th

wittering of birds in the garden. To mhey appeared unromantic. Hearing thei

witter, Devayani used to get impatien

o return to her apartment. Then I woul

say, ‘The night is still young. You need

not go away yet!’

She hardly ever believed me and

would protest: ‘No, I just cannot beahis long separation. How can I pass th

ime? Leave me something for a token.’

Then I would start kissing her all ove



— once, twice, thrice — but I was stil

hungry.

She would gently disengage hersel

and say in a tantalising tone, ‘Enough

Too much is bad for one.’

I would not stop and ask for only on

more — ‘But your one becomes a hundred ...’

‘You have grown up in a hermitage

You will not understand the arithmetic oove. In this arithmetic, one may eve

mean a hundred, a thousand or a million

t depends on the occasion.’

She would smile and turn away.

would be left looking avidly at he

retreating figure.

Other memories fade with time, bu



he colourful memory of love seems t

shine brightly forever. I do not know

why it should be but it is so.

For the first few months each nigh

danced into my rooms, with tinklin

bells made of stars, bringing with i

nnumerable jugs of honey. I drank themdown and was yet thirsty. Those light

were beautiful lakes. Multi-coloure

with the lotuses of love blossoming —

But what is the use of narrating al

his? It is not considered decent to tal

freely of bodily pleasures. But if one ca

alk of the soul which brings eternahappiness why should it be taboo to tal

openly of love which brings to men an

women as great a pleasure? What i



here in it that one need conceal or b

ashamed of?

The fragrance of those swee

memories of love has evaporated and it

petals have fallen; all that remain are th

horns! That is why —

I strove for sometime to build aunusually beautiful world of our ow

round Devayani and myself. A world in

which I was not the son of King Nahush

with the curse and she was not th

daughter of Maharishi Shukra; a worl

n which if death called Yayati

Devayani would answer the call and ieternal Time asked for Devayani, Yayat

would meet the challenge; a world i

which Devayani would turn her back o



I cannot tell you how far my thought

were tinged with desire. But ther

certainly was at least a particle o

sentiment — plain, straightforwardclean love.

She had beauty in full measure. Sh

was a devotee to beauty, she was aadept at make-up, but none of it was fo

me. Devayani lived for herself and onl

for herself.

Sharmishtha once mentioned that sh

was a great danseuse. I was eager to se

her dance. But she put me off with

There are many dancing girls at court.When she was the daughter of a sage

she delighted in dancing — now, sh

was queen. If she danced even for he



She wanted to throw the hair away.

alone know what considerable difficult

had retrieving it.

am unable to state coherently what

want to say — this thought persists. I

man incapable of laying bare his hearfully? How many outlets are there to th

heart? Shame, decorum — setting al

considerations aside, our first yeaogether is narrated here.

No. It is very difficult. But one thing i

certain. My imperfection was hurtin

and tormenting me. I wanted fullness o

ife. The hankering had reference both t

he body and the mind.

Devayani did give me some bodil



pleasure. But even in its giving, sh

never overflowed with life. Quite ofte

she pretended to be asleep in bed.

would tip-toe up to her and place mips on hers. But the kiss chilled me

During my sojourn with the victor

horse, I had kissed the stone image of thgoddess of love. I was unconsciousl

reminded of it. The kiss did not make m

blood surge like lightning. M

oneliness, my imperfection, mncompleteness remained to torment me

f we were near each other in body, w

were poles apart in mind.I had learnt from Mukulika that lov

was a natural escape from all fear an

unhappiness. The love she gave me wa



ike a forest path, and strewn with thorn

untrodden. But Devayani’s love wa

quite unlike it. It was not stolen, it wa

not sinful in the least. It was pure, it wablessed and authorised by divine canons

t was the royal road laid over wit

carpets of flowers and ornamented witdesigns in coloured pigment. And eve

so, I was the solitary traveller on it.

I wanted love fragrant as a flower

mperceptible but gently pervading al

round. I never had such love fro

Devayani.

Were we even at least of one mindo. If she had given me a place in he

heart — then perhaps Yayati’s life

would have taken a very different turn.



If and then — all such speculation

are mere flowers of fancy. That I wa

unsatisfied even with a beautiful wif

ike Devayani is the truth — nothing buhe truth.

Hunger of love — what else is it bu

hunger? Hunger at midday, deep sleep amidnight and thirst in summer are all

strange phenomenon. It is as subtle as

s irresistible!

The physical part of the hunger of lov

s easily described. Every yout

experiences it. But the menta

counterpart of love is different. I alscannot clearly define it. But even whe

Devayani was in my bed, th

consciousness of being lonely was ofte



unbearable.

I had to spend my days in suc

oneliness. I was hankering for a mat

all the time. I was looking for one to tal

o, to joke with, to confide in, to shar

my unhappiness. I was looking for

companion, who would not move even istung by a scorpion, lest I, who wa

sleeping peacefully in her lap, b

disturbed. I was looking for a friend t

whom I could relate my golden dream

and confess to my lapses. I was lookin

for partner who could create confidenc

n me that even if we did not get anythino eat on this uninhabited island, w

would live on the honey and nectar i

our lips — and if death came to tak



away one, insist that he take the othe

one also.

Devayani was never able to satisf

his hunger of mine.

Once I casually said to Devayan

There is something I very much wis

for; but I do not think it will be granten this life.’

She said smiling, ‘What is there in thi

world that the King of Hastinapur cannoget?’

I replied, ‘Poverty.’

‘You want to be poor?’

‘Sometimes I wish that a powerfu

enemy would invade our kingdom, that

should be defeated, that then we tw

would sneak away into a forest i



he royal splendour, she loved to b

Queen! She did not love Yayati. Yayati

was only an instrument of fulfilling he

wishes.

This realisation often made m

restless. And yet, I did everythin

possible to make her happy. I was noprepared to forego the pleasure, which

could take. Unbeknown she had ensnare

me with the wile of her beauty. But

could never openly share m

unhappiness with her.

One whose only thought is for himselfone who is absorbed in oneself, one wh

ooks at the world through one’s eye

alone, indeed one who does not see th



world as anything beyond oneself i

never able to realise the sensibilities o

another; but engaged in self worship

unconsciously turns blind in his/her minand deaf in his/her heart.

Devayani would always find i

everything only that which suited heown inclination.

This is what happened at the first tow

celebrations after our marriage. It wa

celebrated with great eclat. Everyon

was all admiration for the new Queen

Every night there were staged varie

tems of entertainment. We were bothpresent to see them.

On the first day, a play based on th

ife of my great grandfather Pururav



was staged.

Urvashi was staying with Pururava o

certain conditions. Unknowingly, h

breaks the conditions. She, therefore

eaves him. The king is distraught at he

separation and roves the world in searc

of her. In the end he comes to a lakeThere he finds his beloved. The kin

entreats her with all he can to return wit

him. But she will not give in. In the end

he is bent on suicide. Urvashi replie

hus, ‘Do not throw yourself down th

precipice. King, remember one thing, i

s not possible to remain friends witwomen for all time, because their heart

are like those of wolves.’ With thes

words she vanishes into the air. The kin



embraces the stone where she wa

standing and faints away.

At this last scene, the audience sighe

and were touched. Devayani was th

only one in the audience who clapped i

applause. Devayani was smiling at me

victoriously, perhaps implying that shwas the Urvashi and I the Pururava o

his generation. That stung — but no —

et me forget it.

Next day was scheduled a scene base

on the dialogues of Agastya an

Lopamudra from the Rigveda. Agasty

was a Brahmin sage and Lopamudra Kshatriya princess. When I helpe

Devayani out of the well, she ha

mentioned Lopamudra. So, I said in jest



In this scene, I should have acte

Agastya and you Lopamudra.’

Even after marriage, Agastya was

celibate for a long time. He was sayin

o her, ‘Every dawn rises to bring a new

day on earth. But everyday is slowl

aking us nearer old age. In old age, thimbs of men and women weaken int

senility. Their beauty fades. Dea

Lopamudra, with this bitter truth openl

staring us in the face, why should w

stay away from each other any longer?

Lopamudra doubts what he says. To

resolve her doubts, he says, ‘There inothing improper in a husband and wif

coming together. If the pleasure of thei

union was undesirable as to b



prohibited why should the Prime Creato

have indulged in making man and woma

wo different beings?’

Even then Lopamudra does not go t

him. In the end Lopamudra puts her hea

on his shoulder and only says, ‘Men tal

about it; women don’t. But they are botonging for the same pleasure.’

This scene was appreciated by th

audience with great understanding —

even gaiety. But Devayani wa

displeased. She said, ‘Lopamudra is

great fool. She should have replied t

his bearded sage in some such vein aUrvashi’s yesterday.’

She was however deeply interested i

he show on the third day. The stor



depicted a king posing as a danseuse

The part was acted by a dancing gir

herself. But Devayani said, ‘How wel

he king acts the part. I am wondering fosometime now what part would suit yo

most.’ After a little thought, she said

You will make a perfect sage. With abeard and long hair, a rudrakshamala

wooden sandals, a water carafe in th

hand and a deerskin under the arm woul

do it. Even I could be deceived.’ Andshe burst out laughing.

Retorting in jest I said, ‘I have take

an oath before Mother in my childhood.’‘All right. We shall see ...’

* * *



It was dawn. I bowed before Mothe

and took her blessing. It only remaine

for Devayani to bid farewell in th

raditional way. Sharmishtha brought thsalver containing the lamp and othe

articles of worship. Devayani was abou

o take it in hand, when a maid came ihurriedly and announced the arrival of

messenger outside.

Devayani started out. The priest

muttered something like, ‘Your Majesty

.. the auspicious time!’

The priests were troubled lest th

auspicious time might pass by. In thend, Sharmishtha was asked by Mothe

o perform the traditional ritual. She pu

he red tilak on my forehead.



Devayani pranced back with he

father’s letter like a child. She suddenl

urned to Mother and said, ‘Mother, Hi

Majesty will certainly return victoriousFather has sent him his blessings just i

ime.’

She gave me the letter to read. It said:

I am very lonely in the hermitage

since you left. There is nothing

wanting, yet I have the persistentfeeling that something is lacking! I

do not know if every father, sending

his daughter away, has the same

experience.

Things being thus, I think it would

be better to undertake the penance. I

was unable to keep Sanjeevani as I



should have. And Lord Shiva must

be angry with me for it. I shall

probably have to undertake an even

more difficult penance. But have nocare, my girl. Your father will not

rest until he has acquired some

unique power like Sanjeevani.You might feel that I need not

subject my body to such hardships,

but Devayani this is a world of

power politics. I had acquired a

unique power. I lost it from being an

addict to wine. But it is one thing to

live honourably as the Lord andMaster of the world, with such

power in one’s armoury and quite

another to exist as a weakling who



is helpless and therefore reduced to

an insignificant life. The first can be

called life, the second living death!

You will now understand why I am

anxious to sit in penance. If you start

immediately after getting this letter,

you will still be in time to see me before I enter the cave.

I am eagerly looking forward to

your visit. If your husband can spare

the time from his royal obligations,

bring him along. God bless him.

looked up from the letter. Sharmishthhad perhaps hoped that Maharish

Shukra might have mentioned her in th

etter or at least remembered her enoug

o send his blessings. She was sure tha



f there was a reference, I would tell her

With some such thoughts I heaved

sigh at which Devayani said, ‘You

Majesty need not take it to heart. I shal

return soon after seeing Father. I shal

certainly not stay long! We women leave

our hearts behind us in our homes, eveon our visits to our parental home.’

The priests were grumbling becaus

he auspicious time for leaving th

palace had lapsed. She ignored them an

said, ‘I have in mind to perform

sacrifice to wish Father well on m

return. By then, Your Majesty will alsohave returned.’

‘I may not return in time.’

‘That will not do. You must specially



return for the sacrifice and then g

back.’

I was about to oppose her whe

Mother came to her rescue. She wa

glad that great sages and ascetics woul

be among us for the sacrifice. I quietl

agreed to Devayani’s proposal. Shsaid, ‘I shall not leave until after th

arrangements for the sacrifice are on th

way. At least fifty ascetics should b

here. Kacha should also be called ...’

‘Kacha?’ I said in confusion. Why ha

she so much regard for Kacha? H

stayed a long time in Maharishi Shukra’hermitage. Is it possible that they fell i

ove? Or were their relations an

different?



Devayani had once talked in her slee

somewhat incoherently. It was quit

clear in a moment. While in th

hermitage, Kacha probably gathereflowers for her; she desired that h

should braid them in hair —

That plainly points to love. It was nomere friendship.

No, there would be no point in callin

Kacha for the sacrifice.

I looked at Sharmishtha. Her gloo

had disappeared at the mention o

Kacha. She had told me, ‘Kacha taugh

me to love.’ What did that meanWhatever it be! If he came and me

Sharmishtha, the unfortunate girl, leadin

he life of a slave, will get some respite



I said, ‘Consult the Prime Minister i

ssuing invitations to the principal sages

But do include Maharishi Angiras i

hem.’

It maybe this sudden remembrance o

Maharishi Angiras or the sight of th

glorious Himalayan peak visible frohe northern border ... one could not tak

one’s eyes off that trident shaped pea

among them. In this campaign I wa

reminded of Yati over and over again.

had practically forgotten about him in th

ast year. I had omitted to make eve

casual enquiry if Yati, in search of hiobjective had come to Maharishi Shukr

and if so, what had happened to him

One unconsciously centres on oneself. I



t were otherwise, I should at sometim

have given a thought to Yati. The

remembrance came now, and I eve

hought for a moment that I should go afar as the foothills of the Himalayas

Learning that King Yayati was himsel

eading the army, the guerilla Dasyuscattered into the forest and there was n

cause for actual battle.

In a way, I was free to search for Yati

But I was restless with thoughts o

Devayani. I knew that my love for he

was largely physical. But the body ache

for her. I renewed the arrangements foprotection against the Dasyus an

returned to the capital.

Devayani had returned from her vis



o Maharishi Shukra before me

Arrangements for the sacrifice were i

full swing in the capital. But althoug

everything was going according to heplans, she did not seem pleased t

welcome me back.

The cause was the letter from Maharish

Angiras. He wrote:

I cannot come. Unless I am satisfied

that the penance of MaharishiShukra stems from benign motives

and that the power achieved will be

used only towards the good of the

world, I am unable to participate in

a sacrifice directed to wish him

well.



When, on purpose, I told her tha

Angiras had been preceptor to Kacha

she was stunned for a moment. Knowin

hat Sharmishtha would be disappointef Kacha did not come, I said, ‘I wis

Kacha could come. He is a friend of m

childhood.’ I had not seen Sharmishthsince my return. I asked Devayani abou

her when she said, ‘I have sent her t

Ashokavan.’

She added, ‘What was her right t

perform the ritual for you and put the re

mark on your forehead on the day you se

out for the campaign?’‘But Mother asked her to do ...’

‘As a Kshatriya princess, she is ver

near to her ... almost a blood relation



She must be planning to make her you

queen!’

I laughed, ‘Mother may have he

plans, but you are hardly likely to let he

succeed.’

‘Umm. What is so difficult about it

Do you know that your worthy Mothepoisoned one of the maids of the palace

can tell you all about everything tha

goes on.’

The conversation had taken o

unpleasant turn. I kept quiet so as to ste

t.

But a night equally filled with happdreams had rarely come my way. Tha

night Devayani told me of her secret

The very intimate sweet secret. Th



mystery of woman’s life. She wa

expecting.

I was thrilled. Devayani — to have

baby. I was going to be a father. Will i

be a boy or girl? If a boy, what would h

ook like? They say that children wit

he face of their mothers are happyWhether a boy or girl, we must both pra

everyday that it has the mother’

features.

Devayani was to be a mother. He

ittle one was going to prattle ma-ma

That night every moment was enlivene

with a sweet dream. I was floating like swan on the waves of dreams.

The sacrifice was performed with du

eclat. Some prominent sages lik



Agastya and Angiras were unable to

come. Barring that blemish, th

ceremony went well. Devayani kep

hoping that some day Kacha woulcome.

Court was held in honour of th

assembled guests. Even Mother wapresent behind a curtain in rear of th

hrone.

A pregnant woman carries a peculia

glow, not unlike the earth with the bloom

of crops. I realised this when I saw th

eyes of the ladies in the gathering glue

o Devayani in admiration. I was greatlflattered.

I was filled with joyful pride whe

doing obeisance with her, before th



saints and sages, and later mounting th

hrone with her.

Devayani had particularly sent fo

Sharmishtha from the Ashokavan. He

ntentions became apparent at court. Sh

wanted Sharmishtha to be near to fa

her.The sages took grains of rice in thei

hands to bestow their blessing. Just the

he Prime Minister whispered in my ea

and said, ‘Kacha is outside.’

Devayani overheard and said, ‘Escor

him in with deference and take him to hi

place of honour among the gathering.’‘He does not seem to want to com

n.’

Devayani was angry. ‘Why? Lik



Angiras ... has he also gone queer? Doe

he wish to insult us after coming to th

capital? In that case ...’

The Prime Minister folded his hands

No. Your Majesty there is no such

hing. He is accompanied by an asceti

who appears to be beside his mind. SKachadeva prefers ...’

Devayani said, ‘No matter ... brin

him in with the mendicant. And look,

am a sister to him. Bring him straight t

he throne. I shall bow and take hi

blessing and then you can lead him to hi

place.’The Prime Minister hastened out. In

ittle while Kacha and his companio

came in. The whole gathering turned t



hem. A faint murmur from the sages

welcoming Kacha, rolled up.

I scanned the mendicant accompanyin

him, when Kacha came forward. I coul

not believe my eyes. I did not know if

was dreaming or had gone off my mind.

He was Yati.The three of them stood before th

hrone. Devayani got up to bow t

Kacha. It would have been contrary tdecorum if I had continued sitting. I als

got up smiling.

Just as Devayani was about to bow, h

noticed Sharmishtha standing there wita fan. He was astounded. He suddenl

exclaimed, ‘Princess? You ... here?’

Devayani quickly raised herself up



ittle and said, ‘Sage Kacha, she is n

onger a princess.’

So far Yati was casting wild glance

around. Pointing to Sharmishtha, he sai

o Devayani ‘Will you give me this maid

of yours?’

She asked Yati, ‘Why do you want hersire? For a wife?’

Kacha was warning Yati off with hi

eyes. But Yati’s eyes were fixed onSharmishtha.

On seeing Yati in this condition I was

reminded of the curse ‘The children o

King Nahusha will never be happy.’

Yati laughed grotesquely, ‘Wife? No

am going to change her into a man.’

The gathering burst into laughter



which immediately subsided and wa

followed by a pall of fright.

From behind the curtain Mothe

shouted, ‘Prime Minister, take th

unatic away. If he talks such nonsens

again, have him flogged!’

The Prime Minister made a sign. Thguards came forward to take Yati away.

I did not take in what was happenin

before me. My mind was whirling withe curse. I could not bear to see Yati’s

humiliation. I ordered, ‘Don’t touch him

He is the rightful heir to this throne.’

Devayani wondered wide-eyed if had lost my senses. I calmly said to th

court in words which were distinctl

audible: ‘He is my elder brother. Hi



name is Yati.’

From behind the curtain came th

wail, ‘Yati’ and immediately Mothe

rushed out, in defiance of all decorum

She had only to look at Yati. She could

not bear to see that terrible apparition

She closed her eyes and collapsed to thground, with her arms outstretche

saying: ‘Yati? My Yati?’



I

DEVAYAN

s

Kacha an enemy from my earlier birthThe whole ceremony had gone off wel

Kacha had parted from me pronouncin

a curse. On the pretext of the sacrifice,

sent him an invitation to make hirealise that I was not the least bit wors

off for his curse. Now Devayani was

ruling queen.



I felt that he might not relish facing hi

beloved as queen but I also knew how

deeply he had loved Devayani at on

ime. Man may spurn love but can hever forget it? Kacha was not there at th

start and he had not come till the finish

The queen in me was pleased. But thDevayani in me grieved.

The Prime Minister brought the new

of his arrival in the court. My joy knew

no bounds. I sat on the throne, thousand

of eyes centred on me in admiration o

my beauty with Princess Sharmishth

fanning me as a maid. The great sagechanted auspicious hymns, in blessin

us. Kacha would see and realise how

grievously he had erred in rejecting me.



Kacha denied me fulfilment of m

ove. I thought I would have the pleasur

of wreaking vengeance, but my weapo

boomeranged. The satisfaction orevenge was there, but for Kacha.

* * *

Mother is invariably taciturn. Her min

s deep as a well. Nobody can fatho

from her appearance what is going o

nside. But throwing decorum to th

winds, forgetting her place as Quee

Mother, she had come forwardscreaming, ‘Yati! My Yati!’ and

collapsed on the ground before th

gathering. What a shame! How



derogatory to a Queen Mother’s dignity!

There was chaos in the courtroom

The wretch had brought great ill omen t

Father’s penance! After all, Yati was of

his head. But why could His Majesty no

keep his? Nobody at court except h

knew that Yati was his brother. EvenKacha who brought him in was unawar

of his identity.

Somewhere along the way, villager

were stoning the looney! Kacha saw

and his compassion was roused. H

brought him along.

Or is it that this house is cursed witnsanity? What a figure that Yati is. Hi

Majesty’s behaviour also — I canno

foresee what calamity might not befall u



f the wretch continues to stay here

Mother might even insist that a regenc

should rule in his name. Her filial lov

has awakened, and in passing, she coulhumiliate me. After all, he is the elde

brother. His Majesty had himself said in

open court, ‘He is the rightful heir to thhrone.’

Oh no. His Majesty had acte

rrationally at the court.

This house is not cursed with insanit

only. There is weakness for women also

Truly hereditary. They say my father-in

aw defeated Lord Indra! He may havbut he was also smitten by Indrani’

beauty. Mother had hidden it from m

but the old maid told me everything.



Yati, with a beard and long hair

wearing his saffron coloured gown o

renunciation had only to look a

Sharmishtha and he asked for her in thpresence of the whole gathering.

Why laugh at him? He, poor wretch

ran away as a child and took to thungle. But look at King Yayat

renowned for his heroism. He wo

aurels when out with the victory horse

ow anointed king, did he also not me

at the sight of a beautiful maide

stepping out of a well? How readily

woman sees through a man. She can reahis good and bad points clearly in hi

eyes. When I stepped out of the wel

how avidly His Majesty was looking a



me.

A woman can instinctively read

passion in the eyes of a man. She i

certain from his avid eyes that he woul

be an easy prey.

If it was Kacha, I would not hav

dared even to say, ‘Give me your hand!Even if I had, he would not have give

t.

I was attracted to Kacha by such traitn his character. I would not have give

him a second thought, if from the momen

he came into the hermitage he ha

hovered round me, seeming eager to bnear me, or if I found him looking avidl

at me. But I never saw desire in his eyes

There was no passion in his bearing



Women like just such men. They turn

heir backs on men who chase them an

hey chase men who turn their backs o

hem. How strange but true!

Kacha used to gather my favourit

wild flowers at some risk to his life

Those flowers often told me how deeplhe was in love with me. In the dead o

night they would whisper into my ear

But Kacha never mentioned it.

Once, a thorn pricked me in th

garden. In jest, I told him that I had bee

bitten by a snake. The tears that came t

his eyes then plainly reflected hifeelings.

He used to say his prayers to th

Almighty in a bower in the corner of th



realisation that the man standing on th

edge of the well was the King o

Hastinapur .... In that instant I wa

determined to be his favourite queen. Toforget the pangs of unrequited love,

needed the intoxication of splendour, th

arrogance of power and a husband whwould dance to my tune ... A lusting

husband would stay in my control.

All this I gained in a moment. But tha

wretch of an ascetic accompanyin

Kacha —

t does not matter whether this mad mastays here or goes away. I am the quee

and propose to stay queen.

I insisted that he should not be kept i



he palace so that his influence an

following might not grow. It is just a

well that they have all gone to th

Ashokavan. Who knows what foolishings that idiot would have done here?

So that I maybe kept informed of wha

goes on at Ashokavan I have deputed thold maid, among others, ostensibly t

wait on the Queen Mother. She narrate

funny stories. He has not yet recognise

his mother.

In his pilgrimage, God bestowed

good gift on Kacha. What a jewel he ha

found! And with great regard he broughhim here.

Evil seems to follow Yat

everywhere. On that day of the farewel



ceremony, we drove to court in a chario

n perfect sunshine. There was not

speck of cloud anywhere in the sky. I

ooked more like spring than the rainseason. But Yati had only to enter the

courtroom and there was chaos here

here and everywhere.When we returned that evening, th

sky was overcast with thick blac

clouds. It was dark like an undergroun

passage. Soon lightning flashed

Lightning? It looked like snakes in a

underground passage.

Then came pouring rain. For four dayt simply rained! River Yamuna was in

flood. Life in the capital had becom

disorganised. The Prime Minister wa



roubled that the Yamuna would rise

further, devastating villages on its banks

It was the midnight of the fourth day! I

was still raining, now a downpour an

hen a drizzle. When the rain stopped

ou could hear big drops of wate

dripping from the higher branches to thones below. After a while, it poured

again. His Majesty was asleep, but I wa

awake. My thoughts toyed with the ide

of the coming baby, wondering what i

would look like. Seeing it, will it remin

people of me? Whose eyes and nose wil

t have? Would it have thick hair? Will have a small, tiny mouth? Will it run to

me stumbling on the way calling me ma

before turning to His Majesty saying da



da?

Suddenly I heard the sound of hoove

on the cobblestones outside. Was

dreaming?

I opened the door and hastened out.

had indeed heard horse’s hooves

Mother had sent a messenger.Agitated, the messenger asked me

Has the ascetic come here?’

I knew that Kacha was in the habit owandering far away into a quiet place t

sit in meditation there. As it was pas

midnight, Mother must have sent th

messenger to find out if he had comhere.

I replied, ‘No. Kacha has not bee

here.’



He stuttered, ‘Kacha is there, but tha

other ascetic ... revered Yati.’

‘What has happened to him?’ ‘Who

knows where he has run away?

When?’

‘He was in Ashokavan till three hour

after nightfall. The Queen Mother awoka little later and found that Prince Yat

was not in his bed.’

I awoke His Majesty, who promptlrode to Ashokavan. Despite a diligen

search, Yati was not to be found.

Next day, there was a strange rumou

n the capital. They said, someone haseen Yati walking across the flooded

Yamuna!

Where Yati had hidden himself in the



darkness, how he got away inspite of th

vigil for him, where he went to i

pouring rain, whether he walked on th

waters of the Yamuna or was drownedn it, no one knew for certain.

I said to myself, ‘It is good riddance.’

went to Ashokavan to enquire abou

Mother. I pressed her to return to th

palace. She preferred to stay where shwas.

I met Kacha there. We talked for a

while, but it was very casual. He neve

visited the palace. His Majesty used t

visit Ashokavan everyday to see hi

mother. Everytime on coming back h

said, ‘It was very nice to meet an ol



friend like Kacha. Time flies in hi

company.’ Kacha had time to talk to

everybody and to undertake insignifican

ittle tasks for all and sundry but not tsee Devayani.

I had asked him once when I wa

here: ‘When will you visit the palace?He only said, ‘We shall see.’ Hi

egoism remained. Even now he does no

understand Devayani!

Something within me assured me

however, that one day he would come to

see me. Every morning the cheerfu

dawn would whisper, ‘Kacha will comoday. He wishes to surprise you b

coming without warning.’ I would the

merrily set about preparing for hi



welcome. A seat which from a distance

appeared like a throne, delicious fru

artfully laid out in a golden salver, smal

delicately made garlands of his favouritflowers, everything was kept ready i

my apartment. After all, he was an

eccentric sage. Who could tell when hwould appear?

One, two, three, full seven day

passed by. Kacha had time to sit chattin

with His Majesty for hours. But he ha

no time to come and see me. I was s

angry with him. He came to Hastinapu

on an invitation. And that from me. Buhe did not have the ordinary courtesy t

call at the palace.

Nonetheless, I did want all the tim



hat he should come to see me, that w

should talk together freely, that he shoul

enquire about me, that we should recal

he happy days we had spent togetherhat their memory should distress me an

ears come to my eyes, for no particula

reason, and with them wash away thDevayani who was Queen.

When Kacha had left me with a curse

had resolved never again to shed tears

At parting from Father I bowed and bi

him farewell. He put his hand on m

head with a blessing. How he wa

rembling. I was greatly moved but not ear came to my eyes. Devayani wa

never, never again, going to cry.

I did feel, however, that when Kach



came, sweet old memories should com

up and I should give way to tears so tha

would feel easier in mind. Is ther

comfort in tears? No, tears are the sigof a weak mind. Queen Devayani cry

And that for some musty old memories

o, that is not possible.

was now almost certain Kacha wa

going to leave without seeing me. On theighth day, I did not prepare for hi

welcome.

And by chance on that very day h

came. What a time I had looking aftehim. The servants brought in a statel

chair but he squatted on his deerskin.

I urged, ‘Kacha, you must sit here.’



He looked at the chair and said, ‘No

hat this beautiful chair will hurt me. Bu

have made a rule. Why needlessl

break it?’

‘And what is the rule?’

‘It is really nothing much. If one ca

sleep on a deerskin, why take the troublof making a feather bed? If one must ea

wild roots and herbs, why should on

occasionally indulge in a banquet an

pamper the tongue? Devayani, man’

ongue is his worst enemy. I do not mea

hat only in the sense that it indulges i

words which hurt. But if it tastes a crispdelicacy one day, it prompts one to tast

t again.’

Tauntingly I retorted, ‘I suppose it i



wrong for me, even as a queen, to wea

hese expensive clothes!’

He smiled and said, ‘Oh no, your cas

s different. You are a householder

Family life is your creed. I am a

ascetic. Renunciation is my creed

ndulgence of various kinds has aacknowledged place in your life. I

renunciation, it is unforgivable.’

Looking lingeringly at some flowers i

a golden vase on a table nearby, he said

So you still remember what I like. Tha

ou have time for such small things

nspite of your great responsibilities as queen, is ...’

‘It was because I thought of you, that

particularly sent you an invitation.’



‘You remembered me inspite of my

curse and sent me an invitation. It i

great good fortune to have such

generous sister. It was unworthy of oung ascetic and even more so of

brother.’

With these words, he folded his handsHow grave he looked. He asked, ‘Am

forgiven?’

I hung my head saying, yes. Nex

moment I wondered if it was not al

playacting! If Devayani was so dear t

him and he wanted to beg he

forgiveness, why had he kept away foso long?

I said with a smile, ‘It is many day

since you came to Hastinapur. You neve



came to see me. So I wondered if th

brother had forgotten his sister?’

‘A rich brother might neglect a poo

sister but how can a poor brother forge

his rich sister?’

He added, ‘I was looking for the wa

o the heart of the mistress of thpalace.’ I was unable to understand him

He calmly said, ‘I am going to as

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? Exchang

places with her? Make her the Queen o

my rival?’



He kept calm and said, ‘I ca

understand that in a fit of anger yo

nsisted on her being your maid. Bu

man’s greatness lies in mastering thpassions with the help of thought.

Seeing that I was quiet, he added

Devayani, imagine yourself for moment in her place. If you had to spen

our life as her maid ...’

I said disparagingly, ‘I? A maid?

Calmly he said, ‘Devayani, destiny ca

be very wayward and heartless. When i

will beggar the queen into a maid an

make a queen of a maid ...’I said deprecatingly, ‘I understand

hese subtle words, Kacha!’

‘Forgive me if I have said anything t



offend you. There is only one way t

understand the unhappy plight of another

hat is to imagine oneself in his place. S

far Kacha has not had to ask Devayanfor anything. He thought maybe she wil

give these alms to her brother.’

I realised it was no use getting into aargument with him. I turned blind, dea

and mute. His eyes were neither hard no

pathetic. They were blank. But th

essence of all mystic power and magi

was concentrated in them. Kacha’s look

were no different.

I was gathering my strength to fighhim.

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 n

word of respect for or devotion to him

He has seen my dazzling palace but hano praise for me. And yet, he had th

audacity to offer me gratuitous advice t

release Sharmishtha from bondage. Hdid not hesitate a second when breakin

my heart! I will not give him any alms!

I got up to leave without looking a

him.

Kacha also got up. He said calmly

Your Majesty, I am leaving for Bhrigu

Mountain tomorrow. I propose to engagmyself in prayer and meditation i

solitude.’

I bowed to him while he was stil



alking. Blessing me, he said, ‘When an

n what circumstances we shall mee

again, the Almighty alone knows. I onl

pray that He may give the Queeguidance and you, Devayani, happines

forever.’

ext morning, Mother sent word that sh

had decided to accompany Kacha int

he mountains. His Majesty was upset at. The thought that Mother wa

renouncing life and going into the jungl

made a child of him. I also presse

Mother to stay, so that people should nosay that she left because of me. But sh

was determined.

She left directly from Ashokavan



Before leaving she drew me aside an

said, ‘My girl, there is nothing that I now

wish for. But for no reason, I am anxiou

about Yayu. He is like a childRemember a word of wisdom from m

experience. It is not enough for a youn

woman to be her husband’s wife. Shhas to be companion, sister, daughte

and indeed, on occasion, even a mothe

o him.’

I was convinced, from what the ol

maid told me about a conversatio

between mother and son, that her advic

was mere pretension, in fact, sheeplayacting.

Mother had advised His Majesty t

ook after himself and added, ‘Do let m



know when my grandson arrives. I shal

be flattered if you give him your father’

name. Do you mind coming into th

garden with me? I would like to showou a herb.’

‘What is it a specific for?’

‘The ailment is ... it has no specifiname. But sometimes man is tired of lif

.. his own or someone else’s. I hope you

will have no occasion for it. But Yayu i

ou had a wife like Sharmishtha, I woul

have gone away without a care.’

Kacha was of a piece with Mother. A

fraud, an actor and treacherous. Aparting he had left a note wit

Sharmishtha for His Majesty.

In the end I plucked courage to ask Hi



Majesty, ‘Anything special in tha

etter?’

He handed me the letter, adding, ‘No

really! But I keep thinking it would hav

been far better if, like Kacha, I had bee

born an ascetic.’

Kacha’s letter ran:

We have met after a long time.

Meeting a dear friend or

acquaintance and talking freelytogether is not a mere formality. It

has an element of communion of

souls. On such occasions, thecaptive 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 himas 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 hereand 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 rigidcode of conduct. But this code rests

essentially on his acceptance of the

fact that conflicting duals do exist. Itis 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 ninemonths, how can man be born? How

elementary these facts are! The

ordinary man accepts them as a partof 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 onlythrough the body that the soul can

soar. And it is only then that man

rises above Nature. He can dictateto 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 noconception 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 lengthI 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 praythat 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 mindthe 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 theimportance 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 isno 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 mustalways be in the hands of the

charioteer. Otherwise they might as

well not be there. Therefore, themind 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 saythat 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 perhapseven more difficult than the arduous

path of asceticism, for the

attainment of God. Being a

householder is noble and puresacrifice. But if this sacrifice is to

bear fruit, the first thing that the

husband and wife have to offer insacrifice is their ego.

Devayani will soon attain

motherhood. May the Almighty ever



bless you and the Queen.

was so bored reading the letter. Hi

Majesty asked me for the letter. Hwanted to read it again. I asked him i

est if the letter was more delightful tha

myself?

He looked steadily at me and said

The Creator must be troubled thes

days because he cannot make anythin

more beautiful than you.’‘You are a born flatterer,’ I said

blushing. He lifted my chin and lookin

deep into my eyes said, ‘TrulDevayani, you now look even prettie

hen before.’

‘But do you know why?’



‘No, I don’t !’

I buried my face in his side and, ‘Me

are so dense. You see, I am going to be a

mother, that is why!’

It was only now that he saw it. H

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 i

not fulfilled in the instant.’‘I will tell you. My first wish ... Don

read this letter of your friend again.’

‘But ...’

‘I will not have it. Like that hair of th

girl friend of your childhood which yo

have kept ... in the same box if you like

put this away too. In our dotage, w



shall read it together over and ove

again. But today? No, not this foolis

dissertation on the soul, at a time whe

my body and mind are blossoming tnew heights of pleasure at the prospec

of motherhood, when all the worldl

pleasures are at our command.’‘As you wish.’

The next month or six weeks were ogreat happiness. I wished to witnes

over again the plays staged during th

own celebrations. During thei

performance, I was reminded of ouearlier 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 bee

much better if I had been an ascetic lik

him.’

The very idea was tantalising. Bu

how to make it come true? I thought of

plan. I said, ‘I feel like spending two o

hree hours quietly by moonlight on thbanks of the Yamuna, in the company o

an ascetic.’

He said laughing, ‘We can go to the

bank of the Yamuna in moonligh

anytime, but your desire to go there i

he company of an ascetic is rather ...?’

‘But where do we find a sage whoou know? It will be enough if you g

with me as an ascetic!’

‘What nonsense ...’



‘You don’t really love me,’ said

fretting. Thereafter for a couple of days

did not even talk to him. I kept awa

from him.

What a powerful weapon feigne

anger can be in the hands of a woman! I

hesitatingly, His Majesty agreed to posas a sage. In the evening of a moonl

night, the King accompanied the Quee

nto the green room. On the way out, i

was a grand, lustrous sage carrying

stick and a water carafe wh

accompanied her.

I asked the charioteer to drive down the Yamuna. I had already taken him into

my confidence. At the moonlit river ban

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

ime. Ashokavan was not very far from

here. Sharmishtha would neve

recognise His Majesty in this garb. I sawno harm in such a practical joke. We

urned towards Ashokavan.

I said to the servants, ‘I have brought

great sage here so that Sharmishtha ca

also see him. In a little while I shal

come back for him again.’

His Majesty could say or do nothingHe quietly went in. Inwardly, I could no

help laughing at Sharmishtha’s plight. I

all reverence she would attend on th



sage. How abashed she will be whe

reminded of it. There will be no end t

her embarrassment!

After spending another two hours o

he banks of the Yamuna, I took Hi

Majesty back to the town.

On the way back he looked unusuallcheerful. I could not make out wha

could have caused it. But looking at him

was reminded of the glorious west

which in the evening glows in the sam

colours as the east in the morning.

‘What did you say in your blessing?’

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

I burst out laughing at the blessin

pronounced by His Majesty.



t was three months since Father starte

on his meditation. I wanted to see him

His Majesty felt that I would be unabl

o stand the long journey, but I would nobe reassured unless I saw him with m

own eyes.

I did go there. I was very happy to sehim looking fit, but the journey was s

arduous that I myself was taken ill. I ha

o stay away from His Majesty longe

han I had expected.

In time I was a mother. I had a boy

ot only the capital but the entir

kingdom was festive.The name to be given to the baby wa

debated. His Majesty suggested first hi

father’s name and then his grandfather’s



But I did not want to borrow a stal

name. I found a new one — Yadu!

Sharmishtha came to the palace for th

naming ceremony. There was now a kind

of halo on her face. I had imagined tha

she would get so bored in the solitude o

Ashokavan that she would abjectly falat my feet and beg of me, ‘Please releas

me from my bondage!’ But what I saw

was quite different. She looked happ

and contented.

Although that was the impression

gathered from her face, I suspecte

something else from her manner anbearing. I asked my old maid to keep a

eye on her for a while. The old mai

soon came back and whispere



something in my ear. She, a princess

Would she go astray? And that with a

mere servant?

That she has had a love affair wa

quite clear. Such sin can never b

concealed. I sent the other maids awa

and called Sharmishtha in. She came iand hung her head.

I asked harshly, ‘Is it true that you ar

expecting a baby?’ Her lips moved bu

no sound come. In the end, she nodde

assent.

‘This illicit affair ...’

‘This has been nothing illicit; it waby the grace of a great sage ...’

‘By the grace of a sage? Who was th

sage? Who conferred this boon on you



Was it Kacha?’

She said nothing. She did not smil

nor was she frightened. She just stoo

here like a statue.



I

SHARMISHTHA

was stunned at Devayani’s questionAre you expecting a baby?’ No, I wa

not only stunned, I was frightened. I wa

both abashed and terrified. I wa

rembling.We were childhood friends. When

such friends meet later in life the

exchange their sweet secrets — wha



great joy there is in such a situation. Bu

cruel fate had not ordained it for me.

On hearing the word illicit from her

my blood boiled. I could have silence

her with one word — just one. That on

word would have raised hell at th

palace. If I had told her the name of thfather of the child I was bearing, sh

would have been crestfallen.

In doing so, I would have had th

momentary pleasure of revenge; but tha

one word would have ruined the namin

ceremony of her child Yadu. Gloom

would immediately have descended ohe palace. Devayani would hav

mauled His Majesty with bitte

nvective. There would have bee



permanent estrangement. God knows tha

more would have happened.

I do not know how, in the nick of time

thought of saying, ‘I am not a wanton. I

was by the grace of a sage ...!’ But thos

words gave me great courage. The

enabled me to keep my face. They werboth true and false.

‘Who conferred this boon on you

Was it Kacha?’ How poignant, how

poisonous the words were in castin

such an aspersion on the noble figure o

Kacha.

Will anyone throw mud on the imagwhich I worshipped with white lotu

flowers? But the queen of beaut

Devayani had dared do it.



I had only said, ‘By the Grace of

sage!’ If she wanted to indulge in crue

est, she could even have named Yati

hat would not have hurt me so much.

In any case, at court that day Devayan

had humiliated me not a little. It is a

well that Yati was mad and the runawaybrother of His Majesty, otherwise

would have had it. He asked for me an

Devayani asked whether he wanted m

for wife. Yati, however, was truly

nsane. I never understood the cause o

his insanity. One night I was fast asleep

woke up with a start. I felt a cold hanat my throat. In fact, someone was tryin

o strangle me with both hands. I wa

choking and terrified.



Trembling all over, I opened my eyes

Yati was sitting beside me. He wa

smiling to himself. What a grotesqu

smile it was! I screamed for fear of lifeHe quickly got up, bolted for th

window, jumped out and disappeared

God knows where he went to.I would not have minded if Devayan

had said that my coming baby came fro

a madman. That would have bee

nsulting to me only; but the maliciou

words she uttered about Kacha ...

Can one forget yesterday’s love? Yes

t is possible. How otherwise coulDevayani have said such strang

poisonous things about Kacha?

Devayani might have forgotten he



ove of yesterday, but Sharmishtha is no

hus forgetful. She will not only no

forget her love of yesterday, and

omorrow, for all time, she will nobetray her love.

What would Kacha say if he hear

Devayani’s malicious words? No. Hwill say nothing. He will only smile

When he came to bid farewell at leavin

Ashokavan with the Queen Mother,

asked, ‘Kacha, when shall we mee

again?’

He smiled saying, ‘Who knows? Fat

s very wilful. It may bring me back heromorrow. On the other hand, I may no

come even in the next ten or twent

ears.’



Kacha stayed so little at Ashokavan

Even in that short time, he was a pilla

of strength. How much heart he put int

me. It was as if my soul was reborn.

I asked him, ‘Where are you going fo

so long?’

‘To the Bhrigu Mountain fomeditation.’

‘What is the penance for?’

‘If by my penance I could influencDevayani’s behaviour, I would

undertake grave penance indefinitely fo

hat alone.’

I had never envied Devayani even i

my dreams, not even when she becam

Queen of Hastinapur. But hearing Kach

thought to myself how fortunat



Devayani was. What more does on

need in this world if a sage like Kacha i

prepared to stake all his penance fo

one? What is worth more than sucselfless, great love in this world?

Kacha had said all this with a smil

on his lips. But that very smile revealeo me his heartache. He was distresse

at Devayani’s behaviour — at he

maliciousness. But even so, his concer

for her was no whit less. There is n

greater unhappiness than the bleeding o

a lovelorn heart. But who and how ca

anyone else alleviate the pangs of suchidden sorrow?

Seeing me quiet he said, ‘Maharish

Shukra is sitting in grave penance again



He will thereby achieve som

mysterious power like Sanjeevani. Tha

will again set off a war between god

and demons! Gods, demons, humabeings and Dasyus ... all inhabit th

world. But seeing this beautiful worl

forever torn with strife gives msleepless nights. I wonder if this mus

continue from generation to generation

Does Lord Shiva truly wish that war

misery, strife and conflict should prevain this world? I would like to do lon

penance to please Him, and then fall a

His feet insisting that, “I want no otheboon, but bless me with the power t

establish peace and goodwill on earth!

t is because of this ardent wish that

said I may not return for ten or twent



ears!’

As soon as the chariot bearing Kach

and the Queen Mother left for the Bhrig

Mountain, Ashokavan became lonely.

How promptly after arrival a

Ashokavan he came from the gues

rooms to my room at the far end of thbuilding to enquire after me. I got up o

seeing him. He insisted again and agai

hat I sit down. In the end I said, ‘Kacha

Sharmishtha is no longer a princess wh

can sit in your presence; she is now

maid.’

He looked at me very affectionateland said, ‘Sharmishtha, the musk dee

does not know that it secretes fragran

musk. You are the same. You maybe



doing the menial duties of a maid bu

our soul is not slave to anybody o

anything. It is only he whose soul is fre

hat has the power to see God. Thsalvation which great sages fail t

achieve after years of penance ...’

Blushing I hung my head. I saidKacha, I am one of Devayani’s leas

iked maids. Things like the soul ar

foreign to me.’

‘You are not a maid! You are a sister

o me. Kacha has two sisters ... one i

Devayani and the other Sharmishtha.’

Kacha added, ‘You are not only msister but my preceptor. I thought that

had done great sacrifice for my kin

when setting out to acquire Sanjeevan



but you have a made a much bigge

sacrifice. This humble disciple of your

begs of you not to brood on your being

maid. If in the eyes of the world you ara maid, to me you are a gracious queen

The slave is Devayani. She is slave t

her splendour, dignity and ego. The mawhose soul is prey to selfishness, desir

and enjoyment is forever a slave in thi

world. You spurned self-interest and al

our happiness in coming here. Youadopted the most difficult but shortes

cut available to man to attain God ... th

path of sacrifice. You are truly anascetic not a maid. Sharmishtha, I a

aware that a younger sister would no

ike her elder brother to bow to her; bu

f you are younger in age, you are by fa



greater in sacrifice. Therefore ...’

While still talking, he folded his hand

n a bow.

I lost all sense of where I was an

what I was doing. I quickly went up t

him and held his hands. The nex

moment, I thought he would resent thntimacy and shake my hands off.

remembered how particular he was i

he cottage to avoid Devayani’s touch.

blushed and was confused. I tried to pul

away my hands from his. He must hav

realised it. Without letting them go, h

smiled and said, ‘Sister, there is difference between one touch an

another. If my mother was here toda

and wanted to stop me from going to th



Himalayas, would she not have held m

back just thus, with the authority of he

ove?’

Then he let my hands go and calle

me, ‘Sister!’

I kept looking foolishly at him. He ha

called me sister twice. Kacha calling msister. I was Kacha’s sister. What reason

was there to be unhappy?

Kacha added, ‘Sister, you havbecome a mother before being a wife

Mother to the whole demon kingdom

The inner strength which prompted yo

for this sacrifice, may it ever increaseThat is my only blessing to you.’

Every word of his was engraved o

my mind!



* * *

While Kacha had been in Ashokavan,

kind of spiritual intoxication, brought oby his earnest words had overflown i

me. But as soon as he left I came dow

o earth.I had revived my interest in drawin

when at the palace. Even here in the firs

few days, I sketched every tree, ever

creeper and everything else I saw. But i

a few days, even the variety in Natur

ceased to inspire me.

Memories which I had deliberateldiscarded into the oblivion of th

subconscious stealthily crept out an

ook possession of my conscious mind .



The red tilak that I had put on Hi

Majesty’s forehead when he was settin

out for the battlefield ... his passin

ouch ... I had also touched Kacha’hands. But what a difference there was

Remembrance of Kacha’s touch was

reminder of some beautiful, serenhermitage of a sage in a forest. Hi

Majesty’s touch reminded me of a

enchanting bower in a lovely garden.

It was not as if that touch alone cam

back to me from the subconscious.

Every night was I reminded of tha

first night. It made me quite restless. could not sleep long into the night

Something like the longing with whic

he river rushes to merge into the se



seared through my blood. And I was lik

a heady calf. Every part of the body wa

crying out for love.

All through one night, I just could no

sleep a wink! So, I sat down to draw.

naturally remembered the story o

Pururava and Urvashi. I wished to sketcone of the scenes in it. I concentrated o

Pururava. The figure that stood befor

my eyes was that of His Majesty. I found

a good model for Pururava. I the

hought of Urvashi. All at once

Devayani appeared before my eyes.

was glad that I had found an angel obeauty to represent an angel. But then

visualised Devayani talkin

disparagingly to His Majesty, lik



Urvashi herself, ‘King, remember on

hing. It is not possible to be friendly t

women all the time. Because their heart

are like those of wolves!’ I imaginedDevayani warning His Majesty in

similar tone.

I shrank from making that sketch. But could not put away from my min

Pururava, in the figure of His Majesty. In

he end I decided to sketch His Majest

alone. I spent some very happy day

sketching. At last, the picture wa

finished. I placed it in a corner an

ooked at it from a distance. I was by nmeans a skilled artist, but how lifelike

how much like the original that figure o

His Majesty looked.



When I was a child, Mother was s

proud of my long jet black hair. No

matter how busy she was, she took tim

off to plait it herself in a new pattereveryday.

When making up my hair, Mothe

always used to say, ‘Shama, how luckou are. It is once in a million that girl

have such long hair reaching to th

knees. They say, such girls suddenl

strike good luck.’

How foolish that belief of Mother’

was!

Hair-do was now a bore and herefore lived like a mendicant wit

unkempt hair. Is there a girl who doe

not like to make herself up in finery an



good clothes? But then girls mak

hemselves up not for their own sakes!

In sleep when turning over from on

side to another, the hands would

naturally touch the hair. That would

remind me of a poem I had read when

was sixteen.The heroine in that poem was awak

ike me. The hero, however, was fas

asleep. Across the window, the moon

was shining. In order to ward off the evi

eye of the moon from her husband, sh

wished to cover the window. But he

husband could not bear to draw even hin covering. That day she had worn he

hair in an attractive coiffure. Her lov

had admired it. She quickly undid it. He



ample hair was now loose. She ben

over her husband with the hair loose

aturally, the hair shielded the face fro

he moon. There was then no danger ohe moon casting an evil eye.

After reading that poem, the sixteen

ear old Sharmishtha often said therself, ‘I shall also protect him in th

same way.’ How tickled I used to be a

he thought! Now, however, the memory

of that poem gnawed at my heart. Wher

s a lover? Where is a husband and hi

face?

I tried to recall over and over agaieveryone of Kacha’s words. That would

help occupy the day, but the night ...

In the lonely solitude of the night, th



picture of His Majesty now kept m

company. I would sit in front of it, in

meditation. With eyes closed, I would

isten to the conversation between hiand me.

One day I placed a garland round th

picture. I felt that His Majesty waannoyed with me and was not speakin

o me. To make up I kissed him on th

ips — only to realise that it was hi

picture! I was ashamed of that kiss. Wha

would Kacha say if he knew about it

Sharmishtha, his sister, his favourit

ittle sister! That she should have no selcontrol. It is difficult but not impossibl

o close one’s mind against al

emptation. I had been particular to d



so. But from some opening, temptatio

ike moonlight, filtered in stealthily. M

kissing the picture was one such stealth

ray of the moon.

I realised how difficult it must be t

follow in the footsteps of Kacha, but h

s a man. Sharmishtha is a woman. Howdifferent are a woman’s body and

man’s body. Her mind and his! Her life

and his. What a world of differenc

here is between the two. Man naturall

pursues the intangibles, fame, soul

meditation, heroism, God. Such thing

readily attract him. But not so easildoes woman get caught in their lure. To

her love, husband, children, service

household and such concrete things are



greater attraction. She will observe

rigorous code of conduct, make

sacrifice but only for somethin

concrete. Unlike man, she is not drawo the intangible. To worship with he

whole being or to bathe in her tears, sh

needs an entity. Man is a naturaworshipper of the abstract, woma

prefers things earthly.

I could not make out how this borin

ife was going to end. Is it possible sh

hopes that I would get tired of it an

commit suicide? I shuddered at th

hought.One dark night, I was toying with th

dea. Vaguely, I heard the wheels of a

chariot come to a stop on the grave



outside. Who could have come in

chariot to me, a poor maid? Devayan

must have sent someone here. How am

concerned? The servants will put uwhoever it is in the guest house.

A servant brought an ascetic to me jus

as I was thinking of all this. It is true thaKacha used to come to these quarters a

he back and sit and chat. But he wa

different! It was not quite right for th

servant to bring this sage, whom I di

not know, here.

I said to him quite harshly, ‘Why did

ou bring this sage here?’‘I was asked to bring him to you b

Her Majesty. She will take him to th

palace a little later. She wished you to



see him ...’

I looked at the sage. I thought I ha

seen him somewhere before. The sag

was a very imposing figure; he had

presence befitting a king. Th

rudrakshamala round his neck shon

ike jewels. But on the whole, he gavme the impression of being shy an

imid. He had condescended to come s

hat I could pay my respects. But I di

not know how to set about it. If our eye

met, he would look away.

I offered him a seat in the centre of th

room. But he would not take it. He sain a hoarse voice, ‘We are ascetics! We

ive in caves. I shall sit in that corner.’

I put the seat in the corner for him.



was puzzled. In that very corner was th

picture of His Majesty. I had just placed

a garland on it. If the sage saw all thi

and spoke to Devayani about itconveying the wrong impression ...

I broke into a sweat because he wa

staring at it. But he did not say a worabout the picture. He sat i

contemplation for a while and the

started talking. How hoarse his voic

was. And how weird! But he did loo

greatly pleased.

When I made my obeisance, he sai

with a smile, ‘You have fallen in lovwith someone. He is very near you, bu

ou feel all the time that he is very far

hat he is unattainable. What are yo



prepared to do for him whom you love?

Involuntarily I blurted out, ‘I woul

give even my life!’ Unconsciously, I bi

my tongue. But what use was it cryin

over an arrow which had been shot?

A little later he said, ‘You still have

no confidence in me. Close this door an will show you how great is the powe

of my penance!’

He got up, seeing me standing there ibewilderment. He came near and puttin

his hand on my head said, ‘Go and clos

he door. The golden moment in your lif

s near. Go.’That touch of his had in it something t

bring me courage, to inspire confidence

o bring peace of mind. I closed th



door.

He pointed to the picture of Hi

Majesty and asked, ‘Are you in lov

with Yayati?’

I stood there with my head hung. H

again said, ‘You still have no confidenc

n me. We know everything by inneknowledge. Wait. I shall demonstrate i

o you. Is there an underground passag

eading from this room?’

‘No.’

There was a catch in one wall of th

room hardly visible. He put his hand t

t. A central piece nearly six feet inheight moved out, the entrance to a

underground passage. But there wa

none in Ashokavan who knew of it. How



did this sage have knowledge of it?

He put his hand to the catch again. Th

gap closed, restoring the wall.

‘I know that you are in love wit

Yayati. True love is always blessed by

us. Sometime Yayati will come to you ..

remember. He will come through thaunderground passage. He will call t

ou. He will call to you in th

affectionate singular your parents did.’

‘Shama.’

‘Yes, he will call you “Shama”. Do

not be frightened or scared. Press thi

catch to open the door. Make sure thaonly maids in your confidence slee

outside the room.’

I could hardly believe my ears.



gazed steadily at the sage. H

mmediately looked away. He got up to

open the door of the room. I thought

recognised the step. I was reminded ohe drama portraying Pururava an

Urvashi. Might not Devayani hav

deputed him to make fun of me and tensnare me?

Then he opened the door of the room

n no time, all the servants had gathere

n my room to see the sage. The asceti

was giving all of them his heart

blessings! Devayani’s chariot also cam

up.She called out to me as in ou

childhood, ‘Well sister Shama, what i

he sage like?’



It was many years ago that Devayan

had called me ‘Sister Shama.’ I said

He is very nice, I will serve him all m

ife if Your Majesty agrees!’

Devayani just laughed. The laughte

was drowned in the crack of th

charioteer’s whip!All through the night — not only tha

night but every night thereafter, I spent in

he shadow of expectation, fear

curiosity and anxiety.

But I was always particular abou

sleeping alone with the door closed an

wo dependable maids, from those whhad come with me, outside. I would keep

awake till midnight to see if anyon

called. Man lives in hope, howeve



unfounded it may be.

I was disturbed when I heard tha

Devayani was leaving to see her fathe

n three or four days.

The day she left was very sad for me.

was very restless thinking of Father anMother. I felt better when night came

The restlessness had given place t

expectation. I lay down on the bedooking at His Majesty’s picture in th

corner. I did not know when I dozed off

was half awakened by the words

Shama! Shama!’ For a moment I though was dreaming. I was wide awake now

The voice came from across the wal

My legs were shaky. Somehow I got to



he wall and pressed the catch; th

opening was revealed. On the step

below His Majesty was standing. I coul

not believe my eyes. My joy knew nbounds. I felt faint. His Majesty cam

forward and supported me as I wa

falling. The next instant his arms werround me.

In a moment, the river had merged int

he sea.

I opened my eyes. Where was I? In th

seventh heaven? On a bed of whit

flowers, brought in on the waves of th

river Mandakini? On the swing of gentle breeze, wafted in cool an

fragrant from the Malayagiri mountain?

I did not know. Realisation came onl



after a long, long time. The mischievou

moon was peeping at me through th

window and laughing in her sleeve.

blushed. His Majesty lifted my chin uand said, ‘How would it be if at the tim

of the wedding the bride blushed o

seeing the priestess?’ I said, ‘Renownedpoets have in the past imagined the moo

n different forms, but I am not aware o

her having been made a priestess yet !

His Majesty said, ‘For ages now, lovmarriages like yours and mine have bee

celebrated with her alone as witness

She is truly the priestess of lovers!’I gazed at the moon with my head o

His Majesty’s shoulder. The moonligh

seeped through every part of my body



o, it was not moonlight. It was th

fragrance of the dreams of requited love

experienced by the sleeping world.

was soon absorbed in that fragrance. was just a woman in love.

Many nights after that first one — th

nnumerable hours of those many night— the countless moments in the man

hours were each one of them a fountai

of pleasure.

That pleasure, that joy, that eterna

happiness defies description. A woman

does not split hair over a word. She i

concerned only with the feeling that liebehind it. Mother Parvati underwen

arduous penance in sun and rain, t

demonstrate to womanhood the path o



ove. Following in her footsteps ...

Yes, I truly followed in her footsteps

loved King Yayati. Knowing that he

was the husband of Devayani,

nonetheless loved him. No one excep

my two trusted maids outside wer

aware of my love. It was a very sweesecret. It was the secret of the night

eternal friend of lovers. It was a secre

known only to the four walls of m

room. It was the secret of th

underground passage which spent it

onely days in eternal darkness.

Even before I had recovered from thntoxication of the happiness of th

previous night, the intoxicating prospec

of the next night was upon me. But eve



n that trance, somebody was trying t

shake me awake. A sharp voice said

Sharmishtha, awake; even now tak

heed! Where are you going? What arou doing? It is a terrible sin.’

As His Majesty’s touch thrilled m

body, so did the thought of the sin makme shiver with fright. I kept repeating t

myself love is a sacrifice, sacrifice o

one’s all. How can there be sin in it?

I tried to console myself, oppresse

with the thought of sin thus. Bu

sometimes, the prick of the conscienc

remained. Then I would fold my handbefore the image of Mother Parvati an

pray to her: ‘Mother, give me th

strength to love His Majesty as yo



was distressed at the thought tha

something might crop up to prevent Hi

Majesty’s coming.

I had read many love lyrics. I ha

myself composed some in utte

gnorance of the true nature of love. Bu

he joy of reading and composing thewas but a faint shadow of the genuin

experience. Like the child imagining th

mage of the moon in a mirror to be th

moon itself and playing with it. It wa

he play of imagination of the swee

adolescent.

True love? What is it? To understandt one must be a true lover. One mus

fathom the lover’s mind. The soothin

moon and the glaring sun, life-givin



nectar and life-taking deadly poison ar

mingled — no — it is impossible t

describe the nature of love.

One day His Majesty was in conferenc

with the Prime Minister till midnight. S

he could not come early. It was pasmidnight. I was frantic. Sharmishtha ha

a place in the heart of His Majesty bu

she cannot go near him! Fate had giveme love; but how miserly it had been.

That night I could not rest. I presse

he catch in the wall and bravel

descended the steps. But I could nomove a step further. I was not afraid o

he dark, I was afraid of something quit

different. If I step into His Majesty’



room at the end of the passage would no

our secret love be exposed? Fate, at on

moment in one’s favour, may turn agains

one the next moment. I would go to HiMajesty’s room by this secret passag

only to find that Devayani had jus

returned. What would happen iDevayani came to know? I could no

bear the thought. No, never must sh

know this secret.

Quietly I returned from the passage

God had denied me the right to lov

openly. That Sharmishtha, a princess

should be denied the right enjoyed by thmeanest maid in Hastinapur!

When His Majesty came, my pillow

was wet with tears.



That night I was still awake when h

fell asleep. I was blissfully happy in hi

arms but only for a while. Then al

haunting fears came back. Sheltered bove I thought of death. I wished tha

here might be an earthquake, to engul

Ashokavan and everything else therewhile we were in each other’s arms

Centuries later, some archaeologist wil

dig it all out. But nobody wil

comprehend that it was the one goldemoment snatched by an unfortunat

beloved, who dared not be with he

over openly, from the hands of cruefate without its knowledge.

The next moment I was angry with th

hought! How helpless I was. How



selfish! Thinking of my own pleasure

His Majesty ...

I shuddered at the idea. Even in hi

sleep he must have felt me shudder

Drawing me even closer, he murmured

You timid!’ Half asleep he pressed hi

ips to mine. As darkness vanishes withe rising of the moon, my fears wer

dissolved in love. They all came back i

even more frightening forms with th

next morning’s sun. On getting up I fel

sick. My two trusted maids wer

knowledgeable. They looke

significantly at each other, while holdinmy head. Without being told, I also

knew. I was going to be a mother. Joy

fear, shame, anxiety, expectation and



curiosity were all there strangely mixe

up.

Every mother is pleased to know tha

her newly married daughter is expectin

a baby. My mother also would hav

been overjoyed to know of my secret.

Sharmishtha who as an innocenmaiden dreamt of being a queen had t

be a maid. Nature is not cruel like man

so even as a maid she was going to be

mother. But even this kindly blessing o

ature now looked like a cruel curse.

I was both glad and confused. I wa

afraid. If Devayani gets to hear of msecret what will she do? What will m

parents say when they hear of it? Wil

hey hate me as a fallen woman? How



could I explain to them that I had no

sinned?

My two maids were also baffled

Devayani had not yet returned from he

visit to Maharishi Shukra. But when sh

did ...

I was dazed. I suddenly thought oKacha. He should have been here now

He would have given me courage. If h

hought his sister had sinned, he woul

have staked all his penance to wash tha

sin off her. But in this word I was alon

— all alone and helpless.

No, I was not helpless. How can beloved of the King of Hastinapur b

helpless? How can the favourite wife o

King Yayati be helpless? I laughed at my



being natural ...’

I wished to be reassured not flattered

Disappointed I said, ‘I shall not remai

hus pretty all my life!’

‘Why not?’

‘I shall soon be a mother. Then ...’

His Majesty’s amorous playfulnesvanished. His face was clouded wit

care. He again drew me close. But th

embrace was not that of an impatienove. It was more like that of

frightened child.

I could not understand his silence an

he uncertain anxiety evident in hi

ouch. In the end, the cause of his fea

was apparent from his broken words. A

n the case of his father, the fear o



Maharishi Shukra pronouncing a curs

on His Majesty.

I knew well both Devayani — jealou

and vengeful — and Maharishi Shukra

short tempered and impetuous! Hi

Majesty’s fear was not unfounded.

If His Majesty should be prey tMaharishi Shukra’s anger Sharmishth

would have to hang her head in sham

all her life. In future all maidens in lov

will laugh at her and say that she ha

sacrificed her beloved to preserve he

own good name and happiness.

True love is selfless. My hauntindoubt of sin had been stilled by th

hought that I was following in th

footsteps of Mother Parvati. Even now



was resolved to follow her, I would

bear myself so Devayani will neve

suspect His Majesty! I would face th

situation alone.

Mother Parvati’s path — I reminded

myself over and over again — led as fa

as the sacrificial fire. Remember, I toldmyself that it was only by jumping int

her father’s sacrificial fire that sh

became a goddess.

Two or three days later, Devayan

returned. I realised that His Majest

must be sticking to his room all night sas not to rouse suspicion. But havin

been denied the happiness of his sigh

and touch, my mind felt starved an



sleep would intervene at intervals.

Night after night passed in lonel

helplessness. Like the eyes, my lips to

were thirsty. One day I could not contain

myself. I got up and showere

nnumerable kisses on His Majesty’

picture. They say love is foolish. Timraced 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 wen

o the palace. I was relieved that she ha

no inkling of my condition.

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

I was standing at the window of th

room, admiring the beautiful evening



Suddenly, I saw the tiny crescent of th

moon smiling from the sky, behind a tal

ree. I was happy at the thought that

also had a tiny crescent inside me —nvisible today but a very heartenin

crescent. I would fondly talk to the littl

one. While His Majesty used to be witme occasionally and only for a shor

while at night, the tiny life was with m

all the time. I could forget all my sorrow

absorbed in it. The pain of separatiofrom His Majesty, of the body hankerin

for his touch; the pointed arrowheads o

all this pain were blunted in thcompany of that tiny life.

Is it possible that the presence of Go

s revealed to ascetics like Kacha in jus



his manner? If otherwise, would thei

minds be ever calm and cheerful?

What a great happiness is motherhood

o matter how beautiful the leaves, th

creeper is incomplete in its beaut

without flowers! A head of leaf is the

glory of the creeper. But the flowecreates a new world. There is nothing i

he whole world to compare with the jo

of creation. Was it for nothing tha

Maharishi Shukra was so proud of hi

achievement of Sanjeevani?

I was very happy talking to the tin

ife in our privacy. I would ask himWould you like me for a mother? Your

mother is a maid but she became one fo

her country. Will you make your mothe



happy? Your father is the King o

Hastinapur! Even so, he cannot keep m

happy. Now you are my only hope. My

ittle prince, my baby moon, there inothing in this world except you that i

mine.’

I spoke to him endlessly like thisOccasionally, I thought he responded

That must have been my imagination. Bu

alking to him dispelled my gloom an

misery. As the sky clears after a shower

my mind would clear up. I starte

craving for things. If I had been with m

mother she would have fondly granteevery wish of mine, and elaborately too

But ...

Also, my hankering was rathe



unusual. I would want to wander in th

forest, hunt the wild beasts there, clim

he taller trees at night, and gather all th

blue flowers on the creeper at the top ohe trees for a braid for my hair. If I me

a lion, I wanted to open his mouth

holding him by his mane and count hieeth.

Devayani had a boy. I was present at thnaming ceremony. My body looked

different now.

I somehow consoled myself tha

Devayani would be so happilengrossed in the ceremony that sh

would have no time to notice me. I trie

o keep out of her sight. But she calle



me near to see her Yadu. She stared a

me and said, ‘Ashokavan seems to hav

rather agreed with you, Sharmishtha

Are you not rather lonely there?’

‘I was in the beginning. But two maid

who looked after me in childhood ar

now with me. We spend lots of timealking and reminiscing abou

childhood.’

‘I see! Who else visits you there?’

‘Who can come? Occasionally sage

come there and time flies waiting o

hem.’

When I got away from her, I felrelieved, as if I had escaped from th

cave of a tigress.

I talked to acquaintances among th



maids. Devayani’s old maid followed

me and I was frightened. I decided t

return to Ashokavan, without delayin

anymore, when Devayani herself sent fome. Trembling I went to her room. Sh

dismissed the other maids, closed th

door and asked me harshly, ‘Are yoexpecting? This illicit affair ...’

‘I am not a wanton. By the grace of

great sage ...’

I spent that whole night tossing in bed

had not sinned in my love. Why did

not summarily say to her, ‘Please do no

nvolve Kacha for nothing. He hanothing to do with this.’

What else was open to me except t

beg in silence for forgiveness of Kacha



His affectionate figure stood before m

eyes. I knelt before it, folded my hand

and said, ‘Dear brother, forgive thi

helpless sister of yours.’

* * *

was almost dying with labour pains.

was baffled by this strange pairing o

ife and death. I would close my eye

when the pain became unbearable, but

doubted if I would ever open them again

thought I would never see this beautifu

but cruel world again. Will it be a boyGod, if I am destined to die, let me se

my child first — let me at least cuddle i

n my arms.



I felt everything turn pitch dark and

do not remember what happened. When

opened my eyes again, I felt as if I ha

woken up from eternal sleep. My twmaids were whispering something in m

ear. In no time, those words were lik

he strains of music pervading the earth listened — listened with my heart i

my ears. The maids said, ‘It is a boy. A

boy ... a boy ... fair skinned chubby littl

boy.’

There were only three of us present a

he naming ceremony — my maids an

myself.My boy was the son of a king. But h

had been born to hapless Sharmishtha

Who was going to celebrate the namin



ceremony? I wished to name hi

Pururava after His Majesty’s grea

grandfather — a renowned warrior. Bu

was afraid that undesirable suspiciowould arise. I named him Puroo. Th

ceremony was held in the garden outsid

he apartment, with my hands for cradle, the moon above for the toys hun

on the cradle and the trees and creeper

around for garlands.

Puroo brought unending happiness int

my life. He had at birth a lovely head o

hair. If Puroo was hungry and tugging a

my sari for my breasts, it was the heighof heavenly bliss. Sometimes he woul

blow the milk away with ‘ Phuh.’ Th

drops would fall on his cheek. I woul



he first time, I was angry with him

When he persisted, I even got rough wit

him. The next moment, I relented an

bathed him with tears. How pleasurablsuch tears are!

It was well past midnight but the doo

of the passage had not opened.It was more than an hour later th

secret door creaked and slowly move

open. My heart was in my mouth. Th

next moment like lightning in the clouds

was in the arms of His Majesty.

We had come together after a long

parting — how the union overflowewith joy. We had lots to talk about. Bu

ry as we would, the words would no

come and yet we did talk a lot, not wit



our eyes, with touch and tears.

His Majesty sat for a long time gazin

at Puroo sleeping. Then he took both m

hands in his and said, ‘Shama, you mus

forgive me. Today, I can do nothing fo

our dear Puroo. But tomorrow ...’

stopped him.Devayani had arranged to spy on me

So I was content with seeing him once o

wice a week.

One night Puroo was awake when h

came. He had learnt to pick flowers i

he garden. In a little while the sky wa

glowing with stars. Puroo wafascinated with their splendour. He mus

have imagined, he could pick the stars a

well. He beckoned to the maid to lift hi



higher and higher. Puroo insisted o

picking them. He cried till his eyes wer

red and swollen. When feeding him,

called all his friends the sparrow, thcrow, the cat and so on. But he would

not eat. I was patting him in my arms til

after midnight but he had obstinately kepawake.

That was the only time His Majest

saw him awake. He stretched out hi

arms to pick Puroo up. He turned hi

back on His Majesty. His Majest

ooked admiringly at the back of tha

slight figure on my shoulder.Puroo wanted to show me somethin

and took my face in his hands. In th

corner was the picture of His Majest



drawn by me. He was all the tim

pointing to it and to His Majesty.

His Majesty kissed him very lovingl

with the words, ‘You rogue!’ I kissed

Puroo on the spot where His Majest

had done. And a thrill went through me

That one kiss bathed me both in love anaffection.

Devayani’s return put an end to all mhappiness. By now Puroo had broke

nto monosyllabic speech, I starte

sitting before the picture of His Majest

with Puroo every evening. I would makhim fold his hands to it and say ‘da, da’

often wished that he should quickl

earn to say ‘da, da,’ that sometime whe



His Majesty was here he should so cal

him. Then I wondered if it was good fo

man to fly thus on the wings o

magination.

I was so engrossed in bringing up

Puroo that I had no time to brood.

Once one of my maids started talkinabout my own doings in childhood.

could not help comparing my carefre

childhood with my present slavery.

One after another, the old wound

opened and bled.

When I was thus restless I would thin

of Kacha and his heartening words. Ihat was not enough to bring me calm,

would have a bath and wear the red sar

which had come to me, after I had wor



t by mistake on the day of the sprin

festivities — that beautiful piece of sil

— the soft red sari.

I did the same one morning

Unexpectedly, Devayani sent for me th

same evening. The message was urgen

and she asked me to bring my boy witme. I was baffled and did not eve

remember to change my clothes.

Had Devayani got scent of our secre

ove?

I was in a flutter when I got there

Devayani saw my red sari. I was gla

she did not raise her brows. She hapurposely sent for Puroo! The ol

palmist had returned to the capital.

This time Devayani had thought of



way to test his knowledge. She gav

Yadu and Puroo similar clothes as i

hey were real brothers. She gave them

heap of toys and the children werplaying in her room. While the childre

were engrossed in their toys, the palmis

was sent for. He looked at their righhands, carefully over and over again. H

ooked at their left hands also. In th

end, turning to Yadu, he said, ‘This boy

s unlucky!’

He lingered long over Puroo’s hand

and said, ‘This boy will be a great king.

To ridicule the palmist, she said, ‘Yousee they are brothers. They are bot

princes. How can their lives be so vastl

different?’



The palmist calmly replied, ‘You

Majesty, Fate is a mysterious power!’

Just then His Majesty came in. Seein

His Majesty, Puroo started saying ‘da

da’ and was straining to go to him

Fortunately nobody understood th

monosyllable of Puroo’s!When the palmist was gone, withou

saying a word to His Majesty, Devayan

said, ‘I have something for you. Let u

go to His Majesty’s room and talk i

peace.’

Devayani herself closed the doo

when we got there. I was rattled. Sittinon the sofa, she asked me in a harsh tone

Sharmishtha, I hope you haven

forgotten that you are my maid!’



‘I have not.’

‘I am the queen. If you defy me, yo

will have to bear whatever punishment

give you. I am going to hold cour

omorrow. There, I am going to charg

ou with having an illicit liaison. Ther

ou will have to establish younnocence and purity.’

I was terrified and my insides turned.

resolved not to listen to another word o

Devayani and leave, come what may.

ran to the door clutching Puroo at m

breast.

‘Where are you going?’ These wordof Devayani had me rooted to the spot

They had the uncanny power of a

unscrupulous hypnotist.



I wanted to shout to His Majesty, tha

he secret which we had kept with suc

great difficulty would be exposed.

swallowed my pain and fear and stoostill like a stone pillar.

Devayani beckoned to me to follow

her. I followed her. She went to the easwall of the room. There must have bee

a secret door in it, as in Ashokavan

Devayani pressed a catch and a doo

opened. She ordered me to precede he

n.

Like one spellbound, I descended th

steps to the cellar. She herself camdown slowly.

I did not know where she was takin

me along the underground passage an



what she had in mind for me. But it wa

not far to go. At the end of the passag

was a cellar.

Devayani turned to me and asked m

o go in. She added, ‘There is privacy i

his cellar. You must make up your mind

onight whether you are going to divulghe name of your lover or not

Otherwise, there will be a proclamatio

n the town and a court in the evening a

which your illicit liaison will b

enquired into, and ...’

She paused and smiled. Her smile wa

full of the essence of deadly poison. ‘Budon’t forget one thing. There is ver

ittle time now. Tell me the truth, tell me

how your son came to have the marking



of a future king on his palm?’

I calmly replied, ‘By the blessing o

he sage.’

‘Then perhaps by another blessing o

he self-same sage you will be able t

disappear from this cellar!’

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

I said what I liked, firmly determine

not to yield to Devayani, come whamay. But all my strength ebbed when sh

ocked the door of the cellar.

felt as if I had been in that cellar fo

ages. Puroo was frightened of th

darkness and was crying. I covered hi

with my sari. Knowing that he was nea



his mother, the poor mite fell asleep in

my lap, comforted.

Every minute was gnawing at me

Slowly, the darkness in the cella

ightened a little.

Suddenly a bright light flashed acros

he room. It must be the lightning outsideThe flash through the window. The flas

brought me courage. I was reminded o

Kacha. In this encounter with death,

had his red sari on me, to remind me o

him. I thought I was lucky. I calmed

down. I lay down with Puroo by m

side. Gradually I fell asleep.I woke up at the creaking of the door

Somebody had opened the door of th

cellar. I was torn between hope and fear



Could it be someone come to release m

or ...?

Might it not be Devayani bringing m

a cup of poison?

There was another big flash. In tha

ight, I saw it was His Majesty.

We quickly came up to the room. HiMajesty pressed a catch somewhere i

he south wall. He went ahead and

followed. In all this bustle, Puroo hawoken up. He was calling ‘da, da’ to

His Majesty. I put my hand on his mout

o stop him.

In silence and swiftly we walkehrough the underground passage t

Ashokavan. His Majesty opened th

door leading into the room. He said, ‘D



not stop here a moment longer. Don’

mention this even to your maids. Get int

he chariot which is waiting outside

Madhav, my friend, will drive you in itGo quickly. Hereafter I do not know

where and how we will meet. But g

quickly.’Tears came to his eyes while talking

He kissed me with wet eyes. A few tear

dropped on my cheek. He patted Puroo’

head and quickly shut the door of th

passage.

My maids were scared. They had bee

ooking for me. Without saying a word, went to the chariot waiting outside

mmediately the chariot was on its way.

Before we were out of the town it wa



being anointed by rain. Lightning wa

waving tufts of peacock hair before th

future sovereign.

I asked Madhav, ‘Will you take a

message to His Majesty?’

‘What?’

‘Sharmishtha will always worship HiMajesty with all her heart. Even in fac

of death, she will always bow to hi

command and wherever Puroo maybehe blessing of His Majesty shoul

always be with him. By the blessings o

His Majesty ...’

I could not speak anymore. I drewPuroo, who was dripping wet, closer t

me and said, ‘Come, my little prince

come. Rain which brings new life t



earth is your attendant. Lightning whic

ights up the sky serves for a light i

our mother’s hand. Come, you must b

cooler than rain and more luminous thaightning.’



D

YAYAT

evayani’s first dance was over. Before idied down, there was a thunderclap

Even on our way from the palace to th

dance hall, the sky had been overcas

with dark clouds. I said to her, ‘Whydidn’t you detain Sharmishtha for you

dance?’ She smiled saying, ‘I did pres

her to stay, but she was not well. So sh



returned to Ashokavan in the evening.’

But my suspicions were not quelled.

could see a demon-like gleam in he

eyes.

I whispered into Madhav’s ears. H

rushed to Ashokavan with the chario

and made enquiries from Sharmishtha’rusted maids. She had not yet returned.

was convinced that Devayani wa

planning something diabolical an

would do away with Sharmishtha b

reachery. Suddenly, the thought of the

cellar where Alaka had been poisoned

occurred to me. Every queen must, bradition, be told about that cellar. How

o set Sharmishtha free?

Devayani’s spring dance wa



beginning. Some of the great artiste

present there had performed in th

demon kingdom. King Vrishaparv

himself had said: ‘If Devayani werhere, none of your troupe would hav

dared to take the floor!’ Naturally, al

were very keen to see her dance. At firsshe avoided it, but in the end her prid

was aroused. It was now clear tha

Devayani would be in the dance hall til

ate into the night.

How beautiful, how delicate and how

nnocent Devayani looked, performin

her spring dance.Devayani gave an excellent expositio

of a creeper bursting into leaf with th

first whiff of spring, then blossomin



nto flower, and in the end, intoxicated

by her own flowers, dancing to the tun

of the spring breeze. In the end, th

creeper twines round a tree nearby, resther head on its shoulder and falls aslee

n the bliss of love. How delicately sh

had delineated this last episode.Devayani was immersed in depictin

he many hues of the sentiment of lov

hrough her spring dance. She was

woman in love. But I had neve

experienced this sweet side of her. I had

rarely experienced in her embraces th

ntensity of Sharmishtha. Even in hekisses, I felt as if she was hidin

something.

As an artist, she made a perfect lover



but she could never assume that role as

wife. Why should that be?

After the spring dance, she was goin

o do a piece from the life of Uma. In it

beginning with Sati[1] in Daksh

sacrifice, to Parvati posing as a triba

and wooing Lord Shiva who had gonaway in a fit of temper, there were man

scenes. She was going to depict all th

situations in her dance.

I went in and told Devayani how

exquisite her spring dance was. Sh

smiled like an innocent maiden. At tha

ime she was living in the world of art, dedicated artist.

I stole out of the dance hall. Madha

was waiting with the chariot. He left m



at the palace and went straight t

Ashokavan. I bribed Devayani’s old

maid and she talked. Sharmishtha was i

he cellar. And not alone. Puroo also. shuddered.

There was no time to think. Ever

passing moment skirted the bordebetween life and death. I hastened t

ake Sharmishtha out of the cellar and t

Ashokavan. My heart broke whe

bidding farewell to Sharmishtha fro

op of the stairs.

And that little infant. My son, wha

was your sin in the previous birth that ahe scion of a king your lot should be tha

of an orphan born to a criminal? Onl

earlier this evening the palmist had sai



hat the lines in your hand pointed t

our being a king. And barely two hour

ater, you have to leave town like th

child of a roving beggar!

I yearned to pick Puroo up once. Bu

hen parting would have been even mor

difficult. I steeled my heart and bifarewell to Sharmishtha, not with word

but with my lips, eyes and tears.

On my way back to the dance hall,

selected a lovely gem encruste

necklace from my bedroom.

To give Devayani some rest, mino

recitals had been interposed. LaterDevayani performed another dance. Th

spring dance had embodied buddin

ove. Intense love had now to be show



which, Devayani did to perfection. I wa

roubled again with the same question

Where does all this intensity disappea

n privacy with me? Like a live streafreezing, why does she turn cold in m

arms?

Although the audience were carrieaway by the dance, I was unable to enjo

t. I was anxious for Madhav’s return

Why had he not come back? Had h

perhaps been stopped on the way b

somebody? No, that was not possible

He had the royal signet with him. The

why should he be so late?A servant quietly brought back th

royal signet and gave it to me. It wa

clear that Madhav had left Sharmishth



near the old temple far out of town.

was calm.

The monsoon dance was over. Ther

was a thunder of applause. Devayan

bowed with pride. I got up, put th

necklace round her neck and said to th

audience, ‘This is not a husband’ribute to his wife; this little trinket is

oken of appreciation to a unique artis

on behalf of all of us.’

The dance hall echoed for a long tim

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, ‘Wha

a lovely morning. Come and see. I wa



childish wish, perhaps.’

I knew why she was sending me away

When I returned to the room, Devayan

was not there. She had sent for the ol

maid and was closeted with her.

Later Devayani came to me. Sh

ooked downcast and bitingly asked meDid Your Majesty visit the palace

during the dance last night?’

‘Yes, I thought of the bejewellednecklace after seeing your spring dance.

‘Do you know that Sharmishtha ha

disappeared?’

The tables had been turned o

Devayani. But I was to realise later i

he day how transitory the joy of gettin

he better of her was.



The sun set and night was on its way

t was not stormy like yesterday. Nigh

had given up the role of a raging fury an

was entering her palace in the sky, like coy maiden blushing with love. On he

way, she was lighting starry lamps on

by one.Last night, I had felt happy in th

belief that I had done something great i

freeing Sharmishtha. That feeling wa

gone. The memory of the same night wa

roubling me over and over again wit

he question: ‘Where is the Sharmishth

n whose arms you found bliss? Youcruel man, lying on a feather bed, have

hought for her. Open your eyes and see

That unfortunate one is sleeping on th



‘If Kacha was in your place?’

The reference to Kacha set m

hinking of him. I was going to shoot a

hat beautiful bird. But Kacha stoppe

me.

My Puroo. He also is a tiny an

beautiful innocent bird but last night I ...That little girl in the hermitage. Sh

was going to pluck a half open bud t

give it to him. But Kacha stopped her.My Shama. She was also just such

fragrant, half open bud. And last night,

..

I was very restless. I drank some win

hoping to feel better. I did feel a littl

better. After sometime I calmed down

and fell asleep.



But I had a horrible dream, making m

feel that it would have been better if

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 wastill 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 withher, 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 asmy 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 wer

ike hammer blows. I could not bea

heir impact. I sat up with a start.

If Devayani notices in the morning tha

have been drinking? As it is, she i

annoyed. It would add fuel to the fire

With difficulty, I controlled myself.

Devayani came in the morning with ba

news. Madhav had suddenly been takell last night. He had a high fever now.

‘Don’t you know how your friend go

ll?’

‘No, I don’t. He was with me the da

before at your dance. He went away i

he interval. I myself went looking fo

him, but could not find him.’



‘How could Your Majesty see him?

They say he returned very late drippin

wet.’

I arranged for the royal physician t

see Madhav at once. Within the hour,

also went to see him. But I felt ver

depressed on the way. Is life just circle of happiness and misery?

We stopped. There was a girl standing

n the doorway. It was Taraka. How she

had grown! She was no longer a mut

bud. She looked like a bud blossomin

nto youth.

She blushed on seeing me and lookedown. No more in the abandon o

childhood, she was now on the threshol

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, feelin

his pulse. He looked despairingly at me was taken aback.

A young woman came in with som

medicine. I could not see her face. Wit

he help of the physician, she gave hi

he medicine. I saw her from the rear

bending and sitting down. I thought

knew her, but there was no younwoman in Madhav’s house. Madhav’

mother was old and Taraka’s mother had

died sometime ago.



Madhav was delirious. She change

he cold compress on his forehead an

urned to go into the house, when I saw

her clearly. She was Mukulika.

Mukulika! Mother had driven her ou

of the town. But what had come to pas

was not her fault alone.With solicitude, I asked her, ‘How are

ou Mukulika? All is well with you,

hope.’

She came forward and bowing to me

said, ‘By your grace, Your Majesty, I am

well.’

I remembered that night of Father’mpending death. Mukulika showed m

he oasis. When our lips met, my fear o

death just vanished. I was ashamed o



myself, reminiscing of a love affair by

sick bed. Mukulika enquired after m

and the prince which reminded me o

Puroo.

Where will Puroo be now? What ma

Sharmishtha be doing? Sharmishtha, wh

as a child used pearls for sacred rice aher doll’s wedding, would now b

begging at somebody’s door to feed th

offspring of her flesh and love.

oticing my silence, Mukulika go

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.

have seen you after such a long time.



saw you tending a very dear friend. Eve

hen, I did not enquire about you excep

formally. Tell me, how did you come

here?’

She said, ‘I am in the service of

great sage. He was passing through her

during his pilgrimage.’She added, ‘In less than two hour

after contracting a temperature Madha

was in a delirium. His mother lost he

nerve. She beseeched the sage and h

gave her sanctified ashes to put o

Madhav’s head. Knowing that there wa

no one else in the house except Tarakhe sent me here.’

‘I must see your sage sometime. If hi

dissertations bring peace of mind, I a



greatly in need of it.’

Mukulika did not reply. She jus

smiled.

In bidding farewell I said, ‘Mukulika

Madhav is my second soul. Such a frien

s not to be found anywhere in the world

Look after him as well as you can. shall not forget your obligation.’

That night also I was unable to sleep

First I kept thinking of Mukulika. What great difference there was between th

Mukulika of Ashokavan and the perso

she was now. That infatuated Mukulik

and this one dedicated to service. I mussee the sage for whom she is working

Who knows? He maybe omniscient. If

can find out from him about Sharmishth



and Puroo ...

I wondered where could Sharmishth

be? What could Puroo be doing? Would

she return to her parents? Where woul

she go? Or would she, in he

disappointment, hurl herself down

precipice clutching Puroo to her breast?I began to see before my eyes th

mangled bodies of Sharmishtha an

Puroo. The kites were tearing at them.

closed my eyes to keep out the ghastl

scene and yet I saw it. From the mangle

bodies seemed to arise flames of fire

dancing weirdly as much as to sayWhere is that treacherous lover? Wher

s that passionate sex-ridden husband

Where is that irresponsible father



Where is that irresponsible drunkard?’

That picture of flames oppressed m

all day and even at night. I did not get t

sleep till midnight. In the end I took

ittle more wine than yesterday. I wanted

o take even more but I controlled mysel

with great difficulty.But restrained in one direction thus

he mind ran amuck in another. I spent al

hat night thus tormented. I desired to g

o Devayani but dared not.

I went to Madhav everyday to enquir

after him and returned depressed an

dejected.The royal physician did his best

Madhav’s mother kept a sharp vigil to

keep off death hovering round the corne



ike a snake poised to bite. Mukulik

was ever in attendance on him without

moment’s rest. Poor innocent Taraka

was sitting at his feet, comforting hiand staring at everybody around, like

frightened deer.

On the fifth day, it looked as iMadhav was regaining consciousness

He was groaning. There was a shade o

satisfaction in the royal physician’s face

Mukulika was happy and I wa

heartened. I sat near him at his head. H

muttered groaning, ‘Your Majesty, those

are the King’s orders.’That day for the first time, he ha

spoken a whole sentence. But that seare

hrough my heart like a saw. I knew



Madhav’s gentle nature. As he wa

physically unable to weather the storm

he was also unable to bear m

abandoning Sharmishtha.

And I felt nothing in giving up tha

guileless emblem of love, Sharmishtha

who found bliss in laying her head on mshoulder, who had boundless faith that i

my arms even death could be defied.

That night I was reminded again of th

wo voices. They were scrapping loudly

woke up with a start and picked up th

ar of wine near my bed. It was not a jar

t was the sea. The fire in my heart coulonly be drowned in that sea.

A week had passed and yet there wa

no sign of Madhav recovering. But n



one had any inkling, not even the roya

physician, that he would pass away th

next day.

That day, he perspired profusely

There was now hope that the feve

would come down. He regaine

consciousness and asked, ‘Shall recover?’

The physician said, ‘It will take tim

but you will definitely get well.

Madhav asked ‘Where is she?’

realised that he was referring t

Sharmishtha, but his mother thought h

wanted to see his betrothed and sent foMadhavi.

‘Your Majesty, I do not want to die

et. Who will look after Taraka if I do



f I die now it would mean that I hav

betrayed Madhavi and her love. You

Majesty, shall I live? Promise me tha

ou will save me at any cost.’

What he said was not irrelevant. But

hought he was in delirium. For hi

consolation I gave him my word, ‘I shalsave you at any cost.’ That moment th

physician looked at me with quee

dejection. He took out some medicin

from his bag and asked Mukulika to giv

hem to Madhav.

Madhav, uttering broken words in hi

delirium, was now talking fluently tMadhavi, ‘Have we not agreed that i

our first child is a girl, I shall have th

privilege of choosing the name and if



boy you will name him. Do you agree

Make up your mind. Otherwise you wil

quarrel later.’

What could the poor thing say? Th

music of that ethereal dream of privac

sounded like a terrible nightmare in th

face of death.Mukulika brought the medicine. But h

refused to take it. The physicia

beckoned to Madhavi to give it to him

She took it to his mouth. He clasped he

hand tightly and said, ‘We are married

are we not?’ He talked in that strain fo

wo or three hours and suddenlstopped. He was gasping. The physicia

kept trying one remedy and another

othing availed. No one even knew



when life left him.

Madhav who had taken his Madhavi’

hand and said, ‘We are married’ earlie

n the day was now lying on the funera

pyre. I could not bear to see his lifeles

body. Where was that cheering smile o

his?The pyre was lit. Madhav’s bod

slowly burnt to ashes. I was looking

first with tears in my eyes, then I stoo

still like a statue.

Life and death. What a cruel game it is

s man born only to take part in tha

game? What does he live for? Why doe

he die?

Death. What a great mystery it is



Children build castles in the sand on th

seashore. One sweep of the tide and th

castle disappears. Is life any differen

from such a castle? What is man whowe glorify as the image of God on eart

and whose achievements we worship? A

iny leaf on the huge tree of the world.A tiny leaf which may fall at anytim

with one gust of the wind. And I, Yayat

he King of Hastinapur, who am I? A

mere human, a tiny leaf which may fal

anytime.

I paid my last homage to Madhav an

returned. That night. No, it was not night but a hissing black cobra setting a

me every few minutes. I kept thinking o

death. I could not emerge from th



whirlpool of thought.

stood looking out into the darknes

with a blank mind for a long time:In that darkness, I suddenly saw a

chariot on the road. The chariot was

headed straight towards me But the

wheels made no sound, neither did

the hooves of the black horses

yoked to it. I could distinctly see the

horses even in the darkness. I gazedintently at them. I could not believe

my eyes. The chariot advanced

straight across and over the trees

and bushes in the garden, trampling

them down and came and stood

directly under my window. The

charioteer softly said, ‘Are you not



coming, Your Majesty?’

I said, ‘The queen is sleeping and

so is little Yadu. Without taking

their leave ...’

I myself could not hear what I said

after that. Before I knew what was

happening, the charioteer stretchedhis hand, reached the window,

picked me up as one plucks a

flower off a plant and put me in his

chariot.

The chariot was on the way. We

were leaving the marks of

Hastinapur behind. The temple, thedance academy, Madhav’s house,

the sports stadium where in my

youth I had tamed a wild horse.



The chariot was flying like the

wind. There was Ashokavan going

by.

I could no longer contain myself.

When I asked the charioteer, where

we going and when we would

return, he said he knew naughtexcept only two names. ‘First, Your

Majesty’s. And the second my

own.’

‘What may that be?’

‘Death!’

What a terrible nightmare it was. clutched at the window bars with bot

hands and still felt that I might fall to th

ground, shivering with fright.



With difficulty I walked to the bed and

sat down. But my heart was palpitatin

and my legs were trembling. I could no

calm myself, even for a moment.

I drank wine, glass after glass. Afte

an hour or so, I felt better. Gradually

dozed off.

But in that disturbed state, I had

errible dream:

In it, a funeral pyre was burning infront of me. In that blazing fire, one

after another, my limbs were being

reduced to ashes. Before my eyes,the ears, the lips, the hands and feet

were burnt to ashes. As I would

never again experience the

fragrance of the green champak [2]



and the ripe pineapple, I would

never enjoy the fragrance of the

abundant hair of the beloved.

With these visions, I came to. I sat up i

bed. My heart was palpitating as if deat

was hammering away at it and I wa

hearing the echo of those blows.

Like the deer running for life with th

hunter on its trail, my mind ran amuck

Wine was now its only recourse.For many years now, I had not taken

so much wine. Gradually it made m

ntoxicated. I was now being put in minof another kind of intoxication

Mukulika, Alaka, Devayani and

Sharmishtha in their desirable form



passed before me, rousing my desire.

I stretched my hands to take Alaka i

my arms. But I opened my eyes an

ooked again and again. I was alone

Alaka, Alaka,’ I shouted.

Someone responded but it was no

Alaka. It was Mukulika. I was kissinher. But what is this cold feeling agains

my lips? Was this something cold

against my lips the hand of death?

I opened my eyes again. I was alone

Maybe death was hovering round me —

nvisible. Maybe this is the last night o

my life. Who knows? Let me make thbest of it, let me enjoy it to the full. Thi

draining cup of life — once, only once

et it be filled to the brim with the win



of a woman’s beauty. The last cup —

his very last cup.

‘Sharmishtha ... Shama ... Shama!’

got up on shaky legs. I was unsteady

et I got up, opened the door and strolle

out.

The maid outside Devayani’s doo

was dozing. She was taken aback o

seeing me and got up with a start.She almost ran in. I thought I woul

wait until she came out. It was onl

proper that I should go in only after th

queen had sent me word. I realised it bu

he body would brook no delay.

Excessive liquor had made me ver

unsteady. Even so, I went in. I do no



remember what exactly transpired. I wa

walking as if in a deep fog.

One thing I remember though. I wante

Devayani. But she knew at once that

had taken wine. She lost her temper. Sh

was angry, furious. I also was annoyed

angry. One word led to another. Onceby mistake, I mentioned Sharmishtha. I

he end, she made me swear to one thing

by Maharishi Shukra ...

‘I shall never touch you.’

Defeated and unrequited, I came out o

her room. I would never see Devayani’

face again. I would spend my dayhinking of Sharmishtha.

I took a chariot to Ashokavan

Devayani and Sharmishtha wer



alternately before my eyes. I wante

both but one had discarded me. And th

other? I had sent her away.

Mukulika. Her preceptor, the sage. H

was staying in a serai[3] near the danc

academy, I remembered. I though

nstead of spending a restless night aAshokavan, I would go and see him. Se

f he could bring me peace of mind.

Mukulika was startled at seeing m

here at an odd hour. Blushing, she too

me to the sage.

He looked a great sage. I thought I ha

seen him somewhere before, but only foa moment. I could not remember where.

I told him of my unhappiness. I begge

him to forgive me for having come to hi



sacred place drunk. He smiled and said

Your Majesty, you have already gone

half the way to achieve peace of mind

Life here is beset with mucunhappiness. There are only tw

remedies to counter it on earth’.

I eagerly asked: ‘Which are they?’‘Wine and women!’

I was stunned. I took courage to ask

Drinking wine is a great sin ...’The sage intervened. ‘Good and evi

are imaginary concepts put out by cleve

men and fools. In this world, onl

happiness and misery are reaEverything else is delusion. Good an

bad are appearances ... the play of th

mind. To my disciples I always giv



wine as sacrament.’

I wondered if I was dreaming. Th

sage said, ‘Your Majesty, you seek

peace of mind? There are many deitie

at my command who can bring peace o

mind to you. Pray for anyone of you

choice.’He got up and walked away.

followed him like one hypnotised. Bu

all the time I could not help feeling that

was falling off a mountain peak, hurtlin

down an endless dark precipice, whic

ight had never penetrated.



I

SHARMISHTHA

was returning to Hastinapur afte

eighteen years. The same way I had fled

n a similar troubled state of mind

othing has changed in the last eightee

ears. Am I the same Sharmishtha oeighteen years ago? No, this is

different Sharmishtha.

Sharmishtha then was a wife and

over, even though she was a mother

Today, only the mother in her survive

with only one care, ‘Is my Puroo safe?

She has no thought for anything else.



Sages like Kacha, Yati and Angiras

are haunted by the fear of the penanc

undertaken by Maharishi Shukra. Bu

such fears do not touch her. She iobsessed only with one fear. Where wil

Puroo be? Will he go to Hastinapur wit

he victorious Yadu? He looks so muchike His Majesty. If Devayani recognise

him ...

There are guards with me and Alak

also is there. That golden-haired girl ha

fallen in love with Puroo though sh

never shows it. But flowers in bloom

even hidden from the eye, givhemselves away by their fragrance. Sh

nsisted on coming with me. But whe

he brave girl loses her nerve at the fal



of night and wipes her eyes I am moved

Then I cannot sleep till after midnight

All the memories of the last eightee

ears come to life. Right from thaerrible night ...

That night, the night Madhav went away was all alone in the blinding darknes

and pouring rain. Alone? No, my Puroo

was with me. But Puroo was drippinwet. What if he got ill ...? I was angr

with the elements. This biting wind, thi

black sky, the lightning, the thunder —

why should they have mercy on me?When man can be heartless like

stone, why expect a stone to have

heart? Devayani was out for my blood. I



His Majesty had not dared

Sharmishtha’s life would have ended i

he cellar. It is true His Majesty saved

my life. But how did he reconcilhimself to leaving his belove

Sharmishtha to fend for herself

Sharmishtha, I do not prize this kingdoor its splendour. I want only you.’ If onl

he had said this, I would have bee

greatly heartened.

I would not have permitted him t

come with me. But that life-givin

message of love, couched in swee

words, would have remained with mhrough the thunder of clouds and th

crash of lightning. But such good fortun

could hardly be Sharmishtha’s.



I do not know how long and how far

walked that night, from where I got th

strength to do so, with Puroo in my arms

But Sharmishtha, a princess, who hagrown up as a spoilt child, who wen

about in a palanquin and was used t

walking on a carpet of flowers all heife, was now footing her way, hour afte

hour, through a forest strewn with thorns

She was running away from Hastinapur

her cellar of death. She was no daughteof King Vrishaparva. She was not th

beloved of King Yayati. She had only

one bond in the world. She was thmother of an infant. That shivering tin

ife clutching at her had inspired her

She meant to live to see his greatnes



before facing death.

Next morning I stopped by a temple i

a small village. Where to ... wa

question that troubled my mind. Shall

go to Father? He will be happy to se

his grandchild. But all that will eb

away when he gets to know that I aDevayani’s co-wife and that she is afte

my life.

I thought to myself, how lonely man i

n this world. The whole earth stretche

before me, but I had no one on it excep

my child.

Early in the morning, a kindly womacame there. With solicitude she took m

o her house. She treated me like he

ounger sister. I spent four happy day



here. The fear that Puroo might be take

ll after that dreadful night’s discomfor

had passed.

It was the fifth night. Puroo wa

sleeping by me. I was floating i

pleasant dreams.

I woke up with a start. Did I feesomebody’s arms round me? No, but

did feel a strange rough hand touchin

me. I saw the figure of my host with hi

ustful look. I was startled by the touc

and screamed, ‘Sister.’ The lady

hastened into my room with a light. Sh

patted me and asked, ‘What is the mattersister?’ I said that I had felt somethin

ike a snake crawling over me. Sh

called out to her husband and they bot



ooked round the room. But how coul

hey so find the snake who was there i

he form of a man?

I learnt a lesson. So far I had bee

sheltered in the palace where my beaut

was safe from molestation. Now in th

open world it was likely to causrouble. I had not only to protect Puro

but myself too.

Next morning, I made many excuse

and reluctantly took leave of my sister.

was sad at leaving and tears came to m

eyes, wondering if I would ever see he

again. Is life nothing more than a mixturof meetings and partings?

passed village after village. I took t



unfrequented roads avoiding larg

owns, to get as far away fro

Hastinapur as possible, never staying a

one place for more than a day, neveconfiding in anyone and never disclosin

my real name. If somebody wa

persistent, I would say that I had set oun search of my husband who ha

deserted me and my infant and gone t

he Himalayas. This aroused pity i

some and suspicion in others.

I had thought that Puroo would tir

from the discomfort of the journey. Bu

not at all.I was well away from Hastinapur.

was tired of walking and was forced t

camp for a few days in a village. I wa



aken in by a rich widow. She harried

me with questions about my identity.

had my set answer. She said

sympathetically, ‘Your husband left sucha beautiful wife to turn an ascetic? How

strange destiny can be in some cases!’

All day she kept staring at me. I warestless when I lay down but I could no

sleep for a long time. I went over all th

happy moments I had spent in th

company of His Majesty — the ver

ntimate ones in the hope that I woul

fall asleep. In the end, sleep herself too

mercy on me.I woke from the disturbed sleep with

start, by a light shed on me. Someon

was peering at me. I opened my eyes jus



a little, to see. The old woman wa

whispering something to a young man.

istened with my eyes closed. Wicked

broken words, Hastinapurproclamation, a fat reward and so on

distressed my ears, like drops of poison

was scared.The young man was saying, ‘No, it i

not possible that this is Sharmishtha.’

They went out arguing. My heart wa

n my mouth. I got up then and left th

house at dead of night.

Like a hunted animal without exposin

myself, avoiding large towns and takinshelter only for the night, in a temple o

serai, I went on. Sometimes, I wa

depressed. I thought it was no us



continuing with such hide and seek i

which one day I was bound to b

discovered.

Whatever the hardship I must live fo

Puroo. Whatever the odds, I must till h

grows up. I must be prepared to cros

he mountain of unhappiness.A few days later, I came to a village

emple. It was evening, so I decided t

spend the night in the adjoining serai.

washed Puroo at a well nearby and lef

him in the front of the temple to play

Everyone who came into the temple firs

rang the bell. Puroo also wanted to rint himself. He was dragging me to th

bells. I put him off for sometime but

mother has to yield to the wilfulness o



he child! I lifted his hands to the bel

with glee, when before the temple a

announcement was being mad

promising a big reward to anyone whwould present me and my child t

Devayani.

I shuddered at the first few words of and my legs began to shake. I wa

holding Puroo high and thought I woul

drop him. I was terrified and collapse

o the floor.

How happy is a child’s world. How

blissful his ignorance! Puroo did no

understand a word of the announcemenHe was absorbed in reaching up an

ringing the bell. He was annoye

because he had not been able to do so



He started crying when I pulled hi

away. The announcement was stil

ringing in my ears. My heart was beatin

fast. A middle-aged man, seeing Puroocrying, walked up to me saying, ‘Th

child is crying. Take him and sooth

him. See what he wants.’ The nexmoment, he was peering at me.

The announcement upset me greatly.

was convinced that I must never again b

seen in public places like a bazaar,

emple or a serai. I must disguis

myself. I knew that it would be easier t

effect a disguise if I left Purosomewhere. But the thought wa

heartbreaking. Separate from Puroo? No

hat was quite impossible. Puroo’s eye



were like the sun and moon to me. Al

he treasures of Kuber could not equa

he joy of a kiss of his. I had to live fo

his sake alone.

I set out with Puroo inspite of th

darkness. I decided that I must not stop

with anyone. For rest I must look for place somewhere outside the village

maybe even out in the open. That must b

an inflexible rule even at the risk of life

The next four or five days wer

without incident. Kacha’s memory wa

heartening. So far, I had put away the re

sari given by Kacha. For the first timone day I wore it.

That day, I stayed at a deserted templ

away from a village. Outside and abou



was a dense forest. For a moment I wa

frightened. I was putting Puroo to sleep

on my lap when an ascetic walked in. H

went straight to the idol. Puroo mushave noticed him! He got up and starte

prattling ‘da, da.’

The ascetic turned quickly and walkeaway past me. Puroo was crying, sayin

da-da.’

In the hope, that Puroo might sleep i

he cool breeze, I took him outside. I

was moonlight. The whole world looke

ike a white lotus with a thousand petal

open. The forest in front and around wabathed in moonlight. What wa

otherwise a dense forest, now looke

gently inviting, like the flowering shrub



n a garden. The world was sleepin

soundly in the lap of mother earth, to th

une of the lullaby sung by the moon.

By now the moonlight was going to m

head. What beautiful patterns it mad

under the trees! I was not in a mood t

hum a tune to myself since leavinHastinapur. But now gladdened at hear

o overflowing, I broke into song. I wa

n a trance. They say, that moon is

friend of the God of Love. Tha

realisation dawned on me now. Th

fascination of the moonlight was akin t

hat of love.I had covered some distance

Suddenly, the forest seemed to end

Before me, a huge black rock wa



spread out like a tortoise. Beyond it wa

a sheer chasm.

I was drawn to it. I wanted to wal

right up to its end and peep into th

chasm. After all did we not play at th

same game as children?

I said to myself, today the moonlight ireally wonderful. This beautiful view i

unique. I wanted to drink in all tha

beauty. The rock was jutting out a littl

oo far, but what did it matter? What wa

here to be afraid of? Does not man fin

pleasure in living surrounded on al

sides by death? Who has time to reflecon other things, while enjoying silver

moments such as these?

I walked courageously ahead. I wa



getting near the narrower end of th

rock. Someone shouted, ‘Stop, stop.’

was taken aback.

I saw him heading towards me. H

was coming nearer every moment. H

was probably an ascetic. The though

hat somewhere at hand there must be thhermitage of a sage heartened me.

could see him distinctly in the clea

moonlight. From hope I had again falle

nto despair.

The ascetic was Yati!

Yati was peering at me. I was in a

cold sweat remembering his weirbehaviour at court, the terrifyin

experience of Ashokavan and his hatred

for women. I felt helpless. Yati was



ooking closely at me and at Puro

sleeping on my shoulder. I bravely me

his gaze.

I thought his earlier insane look ha

changed to a softer one. He paused for

few moment and asked, ‘Sharmishtha

how do you happen to be here?’ His tonwas affectionate and kindly. I sobbed.

did not know how or what to tell him.

He was bewildered at my sobbing

But I pulled myself up and, trying t

smile, said, ‘I came away fro

Hastinapur on purpose for Puroo to se

his uncle. I knew you would not come tHastinapur to see him, so I decided t

bring this jewel of your family to show

ou.’



The words helped to relieve th

mounting tension between us. Yati came

nearer and said, ‘Is he my nephew

Yayati’s son? I was wondering if thenephew would give his uncle a kiss. Bu

Prince is asleep. It will be the first kis

n my life and I must find an auspicioumoment for it.’

I looked at him stunned. Was it Yati or

had Kacha disguised himself as Yati?

How did this miracle happen? How di

a beautiful lake take the place of

barren desert?

followed Yati to the hermitage which

was run by one of the disciples o

Maharishi Angiras.



Is life a chain of coincidences? A

east at that moment I thought so. I ha

put on the beautiful sari given t

Devayani by Kacha only because of thmistake of a maid. A princess had been

reduced to a maid. Later, the king cam

nto her life by the passing whim oDevayani and brought her a lifetime o

ove. Still again, the maid was turne

nto a refugee. But she soon foun

someone to lean on. And of all thpeople, an ascetic who had been dubbe

by the world a lunatic.

I told him my tale. I mentioned howKacha had given me heart by adoptin

me as his sister, and how he had

earnestly pleaded with Devayani t



release me from bondage. I broke dow

during the narration. But these wer

ears of joy at the thought of my goo

fortune in having found such selfless annoble love. I paused to wipe my eyes.

Yati must have been prompted to open

his heart after hearing me. He spokquite calmly, as if he was talking abou

someone else’s life. He was almost of

his mind when he left Ashokavan. Kach

had directed the hermitages on the wa

o bring him to Bhrigu Mountain i

anyone should find him. One of th

disciples persuaded him to accompanhim to Kacha’s cottage. Kacha tended

him like his own brother.

Yati had taken a mistaken view of life



and started to detest everything sweet

ranging from sweet fruit to woman’

ove. He formed a firm idea to which h

stuck that pure bliss and self-knowledgcould be reached only through suc

hatred. He had set out to find God bu

was caught in the snare of black magichypnotism and occult powers. He had n

friend or disciple. He had never com

across selfless love. Yati’s life had

become like that of a leaf which dropfrom a tree and is carried up swirlin

hrough the air in a whirlwind.

I heard of the whirlwind and the leafor the first time when Yati wa

speaking. He talked at length. I canno

recall today all that he said. I wish I ha



carefully made a note of every word o

his in the diary of my mind. What he sai

was born of bitter experience. Like th

fragrance wafted on the breeze, like thsilver streak of lightning, I have now

only the memory of his words. But eve

he mere memory is inspiring.The Queen Mother was on the Bhrig

Mountain. Under her loving care Yat

recovered his balance a little. Kach

himself strove to guide him. They ha

debates for hours. The outcome of it al

was that Yati found the golden mean o

his life. He told me on that moonlit nighof the philosophical maxims contained i

heir debates. I remember very few o

hem today and those also in odd bits.



Yati said the body and the soul are no

enemies of each other; they are the tw

wheels of a chariot; if one of the tw

breaks down, the strain has to be takeby the other and it is borne down! To

orture the body for the uplift of the sou

or to deaden the soul for physicapleasures are both wrong. The varie

beauty broadcast by the Almighty in thi

world cannot be impure or tainted. Th

relation of man and woman is just likhat of the body and soul. Not by hatin

each other but rather by intense love fo

each other, love so great that each onforgets self, man and woman attai

heavenly bliss in workaday life. That i

why keeping the household is regarde



as sacred as making a sacrifice. To th

common man, that alone is religion

Sages like Shukra and Kacha bear th

cares of the world’s well-being; Lordndra, Vrishaparva and Yayati, the grea

kings must tend to the happiness of thei

subjects and the common householdemust carry the burden of property an

well-being of his family, friends and

relations. They must at all times bewar

hat their happiness does not impinge oothers to make them unhappy. Individua

duty, social obligation, royal duty and

he duty of an ascetic are all on parone bound by any of these duties ma

deprecate life or transgress th

fundamental restrictions laid on it. It is

sin to violate one’s religion or duty. Bu



everyone must determine for himsel

which duty to take upon himself. In it

pursuit, everyone from the ascetic to th

husband must remember that selfles

ove is the king of all religions and th

highest form of duty.

Hearing all this, Kacha rose greatly imy estimation. How unfortunat

Devayani was! She had been loved by

great man who combined in himsel

heavenly and earthly qualities. But in th

end, she had pronounced a curse even o

him. With her own hands, she had felled

he tree with the power to grant all one’wishes.

Yati knew many tribals at the foot o

he Himalayas. He said, ‘They are



brave and honest people. They will loo

after you and Puroo.’

I wished to build a cottage at the foo

of the Himalayas where the three of u

could stay and I would have th

opportunity of looking after my brother

n-law, who had all his life neglectedhimself. In the end, I took courage to sa

so. Yati smiled and said, ‘Dear Sister

hat just is not possible. Kacha is goin

o undertake grave penance.

‘He is an exemplary man. He has n

race of jealousy in him or desire fo

fame. He does not even wish to be thpreceptor of the gods. But since he los

he power of Sanjeevani, Maharish

Shukra has taken it upon himself t



acquire an even more potent power an

o make the demons more powerful tha

he gods.’

I timidly asked Yati, ‘What is thi

potent power Maharishi Shukra aspire

o?’

‘By the power of Sanjeevani the deacan be brought back to life. Now

Maharishi Shukra is determined t

acquire power by which the living ca

be killed by merely wishing it.’

‘And, is Kacha too after the same?’

‘Kacha is greatly distressed at that. H

sincerely believes that an ascetic shoulnot go after destructive power. But th

only check to Maharishi Shukra’

destructive power is the possession o



an even more potent power. Nothing les

will do. So, Kacha is sitting down t

penance. God knows how long it wil

ake. But while he is in penance, it inecessary that his co-disciples an

friends like me should, in our own way

undergo penance for peace on earthTrue asceticism requires it. I propose to

do my duty.’

We reached the foot of the Himalaya

n a few days. Yati arranged for my

comfort and then prepared to set out

Bowing to him, I said, ‘Brother, whe

shall we meet again?’ He smiled andsaid, ‘When? The Omniscient alon

knows!’

I said, ‘May your blessing be the onl



hope of unfortunate me!’ He turned to m

and said, ‘Sister have no care. Puro

may be in the wilderness today but he i

destined to be the King of Hastinapuomorrow!’

Puroo was growing up. Puroo by nowwas also taking aim with a tiny bow an

arrow. My joy knew no bounds at hi

nfallible aim. Puroo grew a little morand started learning the Vedas at th

hermitage of a sage some distance away

By the time Puroo was ten or eleven,

was proud of his valour but afraid of hiadventurous spirit. It was wonderful tha

hose little fists should clutch a bow an

arrow and kill such big animals. Puroo



who as a child was frightened of hi

own shadow on the wall, was now

nonchalantly facing the wild animals o

he jungle.

The river is negligibly small at th

source. A thin stream no bigger than a

finger flows down the hillside and enterhe plains. It broadens and meanders. A

other streams join in, it grows i

volume. Puroo also grew up like that

Even in exile, he made many friends

some ascetics, some tribals. Hi

blossoming mind was engrossed in loca

festivities, the merriment, the happinesand misery, and generally the course o

ife there!

I had a strange feeling that one momen



Puroo was as close to me as he wa

when he was in my womb. The nex

moment I thought that he was goin

further and further away from me. Hicontact with me now was no more tha

hat of the bird, who soars all day in th

sky singing merrily, and returns to thnest only at night. His was a differen

world now. I hoped that the unfortunat

mother would have a space in th

fullness of that world.

Such thoughts were very depressing

Puroo would fondly say, ‘What is th

matter, Mother?’ I could say nothing. It the rule of Creation that fundamentall

man must be lonely at heart?

When I was thus depressed, I woul



come out of the cottage to look at th

snowclad peaks of the Himalayas. Thes

peaks rising high to the heavens gave m

much forbearance.

And not only the Himalayas

Everything around me heartened me i

ts own way. The ultimate essence of lifwas being revealed to me. I learnt tha

he easiest way to be happy is t

cheerfully live the life given to us, t

find pleasure in it, experience the beaut

and fragrance of it and to share it wit

others.

The meandering stream similarlbrought cheer to my depressed mind

Seeing its swollen raging waters in th

rains and the havoc caused by it, I woul



feel that after all, youth is not completel

a blessing, it also carries a curse. Ther

s no knowing how much a man migh

ose his head in the flush of youth, wharocks he will crash on in his pursuit o

pleasure and how many pure, innocen

gentle things he will trample on in hiwild chase.

I understood from my exile why sage

and ascetics take to the jungle for thei

penance. Nature and man ar

nseparably linked together from th

beginning to the end. In fact, they ar

wins. That is why life reveals itself its true form only in the presence o

ature. Man then begins to understan

he content and limitations of life. Whe



he drifts away from Nature, his lif

becomes one-sided. In that artificia

one-sided existence, his thoughts

feelings and desires assume unreal andistorted forms. My misfortune had i

one way turned out to be good luck. Tha

s why I came here. I was able to seclearly the truth underlying life.

It was not as though I was thu

houghtful and balanced all the time

Sometimes I felt lonely from a sense o

separation. At night, on my bed of straw

he body ached and the mind hankere

for His Majesty.I strove hard to stop such fancie

which were heartrending. I woul

remind myself of the renunciation o



Kacha and Yati. But my mind was like

an unbridled horse. It could not b

checked. It would fly to Hastinapur an

Ashokavan and wait at the door of thunderground passage. No, it is no

possible for man to dissociate himsel

from his body all the time.Such sentiments, repressed with grea

difficulty, would unexpectedly burst out

t happened once when Puroo was seve

or eight. Puroo was sitting with ascetics

A lady sitting by me had a girl of four o

five in her lap. Her eyes were ver

beautiful. But I was attracted more bher hair than her eyes. The abundant hai

with occasional streaks of gold wa

fascinating. They were like fine golde



hreads drawn through a black mass o

cloud. The girl was not only sweet bu

daring. When I stretched my hands, sh

came to me and sat in my lap withoudemur.

I bid farewell to her, hoping that w

would meet again and returned to thcottage. But I could not sleep thinking o

hat sweet little girl. I longed for Hi

Majesty’s company and the memory o

hat pleasure was disquieting. I wishe

Puroo had a sister like her.

Even in this peaceful life, I wa

roubled by much agony. One day Yatcame and gave me the news of the deat

of the Queen Mother. She had been good

o me. I wished I had been able to serv



her in some way. But I was sorry th

opportunity had never come my way.

I once met an ascetic who had com

from Hastinapur. According to him Hi

Majesty had ceased to look after th

affairs of the state. Devayani wa

attending to them. Was it possible thahere were differences betwee

Devayani and His Majesty? Even if so,

man cannot neglect his duties. Lik

flowers some persons cannot live excep

with the dewdrops of love. Without it

hey just dry up. If the differences ar

material and lasting, what will happen tHis Majesty?

I was very depressed that day. I fel

ike going to Hastinapur, even at the ris



of my life, to beg of His Majesty to com

with me to my humble cottage. But Puro

was still small. I wept bitterly. As usual

said in my prayers before going to behe words, ‘Lord, make him happy.’

As a child, Puroo, repeated after m

whatever I said in my prayers. But nowhe had grown up a little. He asked m

out of curiosity, ‘Mother, who is him?

Tell me the name!’

‘I shall tell you when you are sixteen.

But before he was sixteen, Nature wa

beginning to reveal to him who the ‘him

n my prayer was. Until the age owelve, he looked like me. But in th

next one or two years, he shot up an

filled up. He was now looking more an



more like His Majesty. To add to it, th

occasional visits of the ascetic fro

Hastinapur would bring news whic

worried me. His Majesty hadissociated himself completely from th

administration of the State. For month

on end, he was away from the capitaEven when in town, he did not stir out o

Ashokavan. There was now no limit t

his indulgence in luxury and excesses.

I did not know what to do. That

should be helpless to save fro

degradation a dear one for whom

would cheerfully and without hesitatiohave laid down my life! How frail ma

s.

In an effort to forget this new turn o



unhappiness I turned to drawing again

One day, I felt like making a sketch o

Puroo. I thought over it a great deal, an

realised that in his adolescence he wagrowing up in His Majesty’s likeness.

Puroo was now sixteen. I told him th

secret that he was no ordinary youth bua prince of Hastinapur. I consoled him

by saying that I had to leave Hastinapu

because of Devayani’s jealousy.

It is very difficult to make childre

understand. The first flush of youth is no

only adventurous but blind. It canno

perceive the problems of everyday lifet is constantly surrounded only by th

fragrance of the flowers it dreams of.

explained to him over and over agai



hat it would be better to stay where w

were until the time His Majesty sent fo

us. He would not agree. When I mad

him swear that he would not divulge thsecret of his royal birth without m

permission, he impudently said, ‘No

even to His Majesty.’I comforted him by saying, ‘I am no

asking you to do that. You are free to tel

His Majesty that you are his son. Bu

remember never to tell anyone else wh

ou are. I enjoin you upon my life.’

As they grow up, children drift froheir parents. Love and achievement ar

he inspirations of the young mind. Thes

draw young boys and girls from th



sheltered existence of their childhood

The parents, however, continue to dwel

n their old world, anxious for thei

children’s well-being.

As fear left him by one door, lov

entered by another to find a place

Budding, youthful, blushful, innocenove. Love like the delicate pink tones i

he eastern corner of the sky just befor

dawn!

But he never gave away this secret o

his. That sweet girl Alaka with th

golden hair. Her mother was now a dea

friend of mine. Naturally the childrealso became friends. But when Puro

was sixteen, there was a subtle change i

heir behaviour. The two no longe



played together with their earlie

abandon. There was an imperceptibl

coyness in their approach. If others wer

not looking, they looked stealthily aeach other. They would blush and loo

away and Alaka would hang her head

and ply the ground with her toenailsWhen she was very small, and asked t

do something for Puroo, she used to say

Why should I do anything for him? H

never does anything for me.’ But nowwhenever she came, she was mor

concerned about his comfort.

All this dawned on me graduallyThere was nothing wrong in it. Bu

sometimes I wondered if it was right, i

hat first incipience of love should b



allowed to grow.

On second thoughts I would reason

You were once a princess. Were no

ou later reduced to being a maid

Alaka may not have blue blood. But he

ove is genuine. Is the love of a maid an

hat of a princess vastly different?’I was bewildered by the conflict in m

mind. But I did not have the heart t

speak to Puroo or Alaka about th

matter. Like the young, the elders also

feel constrained to say anything in suc

cases.

* * *

Three more years went by. Puroo wa



nineteen now. One day he returned ver

perturbed from his hunt. He had hear

hat the tribals called Dasyus ha

organised a very big rising in the NorthThey had set out to march on Hastinapur

There were rumours of Prince Yadu

eading a large army to put them down. could not sleep a wink that night.

It constantly occurred to me that i

Yadu was leading the army, where was

His Majesty?

Like me, Puroo also was tossing i

bed from side to side. I asked him onc

or twice, ‘What is the matter? Why canou sleep tonight?’

He said, ‘Nothing at all, Mother.’ He

did not say a word more. I laughed.



hought he was thinking of Alaka. It is

difficult age. Who knows, he may hav

kissed her for the first time today.

Next afternoon, I knew why Puro

was restless that night. He set out for

hunt in the morning and did not return til

nightfall. I enquired about his friendwho had accompanied him. None o

hem had returned. It was a nightmare.

was stricken with terror that night. Go

forbid such a night falling to the lot of

mother!

Till noon next day I was restless like

fish out of water. Puroo and his friendhad gone out on a campaign against th

Dasyus. They had left their houses on th

pretext of a hunt for fear that the elder



might not give them permission. On th

way lay Alaka’s village. Puroo had gone

on, entrusting Alaka with a letter to b

delivered to me the next afternoonAlaka gave me the letter with tremblin

hands. I opened it.

t said:

The kingdom of Hastinapur has been

attacked. Need I tell you where my

duty lies in such an event? I amgoing away without your

permission. Forgive me, Mother,

and don’t worry about me. Your

Puroo will soon return to you, after

meeting the challenge to the

Hastinapur kingdom with his

prowess and skill in war.



Tears came to my eyes while reading th

etter. Who can say that the son of

Kshatriya should not go to war? Bu

mine was the heart of a mother. It couldnot be calmed. It dripped through th

eyes.

Alaka wiped my tears. She embraceme and kept consoling me, ‘Please don

cry.’ The mild sun lit up the gold in he

hair. For a moment, my heart bleedin

for Puroo was gladdened that I wa

going to get her for a daughter-in-law

She who would stand out in a millio

girls.It was now Alaka’s turn to cry. ‘Aunt

will he come back safe?’ she asked. Th

question distressed me. I drew Alak



near and patted her head. I said, ‘Don

worry dear. Do not others go to war

Fighting is laid on us Kshatriyas as

duty.’

Yet, we both cried together. It wa

only then that we calmed down a bit.

We talked and thought together a greadeal. News of them would necessaril

ake time to reach us. So it would b

better to go to a village eight or te

miles from Hastinapur. We would thu

be able to get news from passin

soldiers and messengers. Alaka’s mothe

reluctantly permitted her to go with mesaying, ‘After all, the daughter belong

o another home. It is a debt which migh

as well be honoured on time.’



Two brave elderly persons, from

among those detailed by Yati to look

after me, prepared to go with us. We tw

set out on our way, imagining a hundredhings. Sometimes repressing our tear

and sometimes stealthily wiping them

sometimes dreaming of Puroo’s heroismand at other times, waking up with

start, seeing him injured in our dreams.

* * *

was returning to Hastinapur afte

eighteen years, the same way I had leftEqually frightened at heart. I was goin

on dreaming of the future, dream

sometimes golden, sometimes black!



When I had passed this way eightee

ears ago, I was worried abou

protecting little Puroo from harm. Th

same Puroo had today gone to battleaving his mother in a sea of anxiety.

was all the time, at every step

distressed whether he was safe. Aranxiety and shadow twins? Is it the wil

of God that these should be constan

companions of man?

At last we reached a village some te

miles from Hastinapur. It was a day o

ll-omen. On that very day, bad new

had just come through stunning us bothn a skirmish, Yadu and some of hi

brave soldiers had been captured by th

Dasyus. It was their custom to behea



he enemy and carry his skull on a spea

n procession.

But our misery went much further tha

hat and was more poignant. Puroo mus

almost certainly have been among th

brave soldiers accompanying Yadu. In

fact, he might well be a prisoner himselfIn what condition then were we likel

o see Puroo? As a victorious hero? O

at the end of a spear?

What had I done in my previous birt

hat God was punishing me thus?

1]

Wife of Shiva. Unable to bear her husban being insulted by her father, Daksha, sh

killed herself at the great sacrifice held b

her father.

2]

A light yellow coloured ornamental flower native t



India. Scientific name Michelia Champaca.

3]An inn.



T

DEVAYAN

he pitch darkness of the new moon nighseems poised to pounce on me. Lookin

at the sky through the window, the star

are twinkling as if in derision. There ar

so many retainers in the palace, but theare dumb. I am in a state as if flames ar

ablaze all around and there is no escape

This evening the messenger brough



he evil tidings. My Yadu is defeated

The Dasyus have taken him. Oh no. I jus

cannot believe it. How did such a fat

overtake him? Queen Devayani’s sovanquished. Maharishi Shukra

acclaimed as the world’s mos

llustrious ascetic, his grandsodefeated? No, the words ring false. The

seem like ghosts.

How enthusiastic he was when settin

out for battle! I put the red tilak on hi

forehead. How eagerly I waited fo

news of his victory. But, like the chata

bird expectantly looking up to the sky foa drop of rain and getting struck b

ightning instead, I am stunned.

Devayani has not had to hang her hea



down so far. She has not so fa

submitted to anyone. But today? Wha

can I do now? Whom shall I supplicate

t is nearly time for Father to end hipenance. I have not seen him thes

eighteen years. I never told him abou

any of my unhappiness. He is shorempered. I bore my unhappiness

repressed it, lest he should thoughtlessl

give up his penance halfway. He had, a

my insistence on bringing Kacha back tife, lost the invaluable power o

Sanjeevani. Now he is again on the poin

of achieving some such power. In thescircumstances, how can I go to him an

say, ‘Free my Yadu!’ What right have I

o break his penance?



No, I shall not be so thoughtless. No

even for one of my own flesh and blood

Many bitter unhappy recollections ar

piled up in my mind. I am going to wreavengeance on everyone of those wh

have offended me. That Sharmishtha, he

brat aspiring to be King Emperor anHis Majesty, but not yet. After Fathe

has successfully completed his penanc

and achieved the new power.

I want my Yadu! I want nothing else.

do not want this kingdom nor father’

new power.

No, this is not Devayani talking. This the weakling of a mother. Bu

Devayani is Maharishi Shukra’

daughter and the Queen of Hastinapur



nflicted by her husband. It was in a

effort to forget her agony that Devayan

had poured all her life into her dance

hat night.

That night the sky was overcast. It wa

ike my heart in agony from deception

But I had agreed to dance for thosartists. I had not forgotten the nuances o

my favourite art. I went on the stage fo

my first dance and in an instant lef

behind the agony of my mind. The worl

of art transcends transient things lik

hought, sensibility and passion. I wa

engrossed in my dance. As engrossed a often was in my beauty before a mirror

Sharmishtha is palpably a liar. Th

ines in Puroo’s hand pointing to hi



sovereignty were unmistakable evidenc

of their love affair. I was still in a tranc

when His Majesty presented me with th

necklace. I went to bed in that trance.

I woke up the next morning as th

Queen, but I also as a deceived wife an

an affectionate mother dedicated to thwell-being of her son.

I sent His Majesty out and went dow

o the cellar. She was not there. I saw

red. Everyone from the old maid to Hi

Majesty denied all knowledge. But trut

cannot remain unrevealed.

Under the horsewhip, the old maisoon talked. I went to Ashokavan and

came to know of Sharmishtha havin

gone away, in a chariot somewhere.



could not find out who the chariotee

was, but in a day or two learnt o

Madhav’s illness. As a matter o

formality, I went to see him. Madhav’bride-to-be, Madhavi, was standin

here. The child was bewildered an

ears kept coming to her eyes! I patteher to console her. When she calmed

down, we talked and she soon told m

how Madhav had been taken so il

Madhav had returned home that nightdrenched to the skin a couple of hour

after midnight. I knew how loyal a frien

Madhav was. He had gone on HiMajesty’s errand. He went to leav

Sharmishtha far out of the town. Why

otherwise, should he have got drenche

n the pouring rain? In the town, he coul



have taken shelter anywhere.

With this thread, I started unravellin

he mystery of Sharmishtha. I purposel

visited Madhav frequently. Madhav wa

n a delirium talking. A lot of it wa

rrelevant. But from one or two of hi

sentences, I was convinced of HiMajesty’s conspiracy. Once he said, ‘On

with it, driver!’ Another time, ‘Your

Majesty must get down here.’ Eventuall

t dawned on me. He must have bee

calling Sharmishtha, ‘Your Majesty!

The whole mystery was revealed to m

by that one word. He was bent omaking her Queen. He had designs on m

ife. He must have intended to kee

Sharmishtha and Puroo safe somewher



until he could bring them back.

I resolved to nip the poisonous growt

n the bud. I immediately made

proclamation throughout the length an

breadth of the State, announcing a bi

reward to anyone apprehendin

Sharmishtha and her son. I felt thasooner or later someone would presen

himself with them. But it was not to be.

For the first few days, I had a watc

kept on Ashokavan for any surreptitiou

communication between them.

* * *

was wondering why even after news o

Yadu’s capture His Majesty had no



One night he came to my rooms. The

say that a man excited with liquo

desires a woman. I had only heard of it

But that night I myself had thaexperience. He begged me to giv

myself to him. Worse than a beast. I wa

unable to bear the foul smell of himouth stinking with liquor. I stood fa

away from him. He ran after me an

grappled with me. I asked, ‘Have yo

remembered me today becausSharmishtha is not there?’ He laughed

ghostly smile and said, ‘I am the son o

King Nahusha. I want Sharmishtha. want Devayani. I want every prett

woman on earth. Everyday a fres

woman.’



I was unable to stand it. He wa

alking like one who had gone out of hi

senses. I was reminded of his elde

brother coming to court. He had gone ofhis head because of his hatred o

women. Was His Majesty going to be

unhinged by his lust for women?He said, ‘My father could not ge

ndrani. But I will. I am going to take al

he pretty women on earth. Pluck on

flower, smell it and throw it away

Again pluck one, taste it and throw

away.’

I closed my ears. He was laughinhysterically and coming nearer.

collected all my strength and shouted

Keep away. Keep away. Don’t you



know who I am?’

He replied, ‘Yes, you are my wife.

Spiritedly I retorted, ‘I am the daughte

of Maharishi Shukra. You know what a

great ascetic my father is. I am going t

him now to report your behaviour. You

will not come to your senses except aftea terrible curse.’

He stood still on hearing the wor

curse.’ For a moment, I also melted and

felt like pleading with him to mend hi

ways — for my sake and for Yadu’s

sake. After all he was my husband. I

friends and relations do not forgivone’s failings who else will? I was

wife. Even if he failed in his duty as

husband, was it not enjoined on me to d



my duty as a wife?

Is love something one can buy? Value

for value is the rule of trade. But life i

not trade. If His Majesty was goin

astray, I should have pointed it out to

him. I should have convinced him of it.

should have stood by him if he lost hibalance.

For a moment, maybe only for th

moment, I melted at this thought. I wa

fidgety when His Majesty asked me

Where is Sharmishtha? You devil, you

have taken her life.’

He was coming forward. I was afraihat he might strangle me. Soon Hi

Majesty was very near me. His intentio

o strangle me was quite evident.



shouted from mortal fear, ‘Keep off

Don’t forget I am the daughter o

Maharishi Shukra. Step back. Go away

Get out of my room ...’

His Majesty began trembling and wen

back a step or two. He mumbled, ‘No,

won’t come any further.’The reference to Sharmishtha ha

enraged me. I said, ‘First swear to m

hat you will never touch me again.’ I do

not want even to be touched by tha

defiled body of his. I warned him

Swear to me that you will never touc

me. Swear in the name of my father.’His Majesty swore and left my room

That day the fine silken cord of ou

relation as husband and wife, the mos



beautiful tie in life broke. We wer

henceforward to go through life turne

away from each other.

How am I to blame for the unfortunat

ncident that day? The daughter o

Maharishi Shukra, the mother of Yaduand the Queen of Hastinapur ever

single one of them has consistentl

confirmed that what I did was right.But then who is it that occasionall

whispers to me, ‘ You were wrong. You

did not live up to your duty. You failed

o realise your responsibility.’

Who is this creature torturing me wit

her pricks, for the last eighteen years

This woman has no name, n



complexion and no form. I first though

she was the wife of King Yayati. To stop

her nagging, I said, ‘Why should a wif

ove her husband who has trampled upohe sanctity of their marriage and who i

known to be a deceitful rascal? M

resolve that night was the only right oneKnowing full well, that I would thus b

deprived of marital happiness I came t

hat resolve.’

That foolish woman was neve

convinced. So many years have gone b

but she still protests, ‘You did not truly

ive up to your duty. You failed trealise your responsibility. Does lov

depend on such exterior attributes? Th

day a person becomes a near and dea



one any arithmetical count of his goo

and bad points ceases. What remains i

ust selfless love. Love which gropes

stumbles, struggles up only to fall againa love which aims to rise to the peak o

devotion, inspite of the many falls. D

we ever sit down to reckon what Gohas given us or denied us when we ben

n worship to him? Love is the worship

of one person by another. You violated

hat worship, you are a blemish owomanhood. You will never, never be

happy.’

Today was the same. I was stunned bhe news of Yadu’s capture. Drawing on

my distraught condition this woman wa

dinning into my ears, ‘You did not liv



up to the duty of a wife, to th

responsibility of a woman. This is th

fruit of that sin.’

No, it is not true. Yadu’s defeat is the

fruit of the sins committed by Hi

Majesty.

Who has not had to taste the bitter fruof his sins? Poor Madhav, his dea

friend, lost his life in taking Sharmishth

out of town. His bride-to-be was in th

ikeness of Rati, the goddess of love

What beautiful eyes she had. They sa

her body was found floating on th

Yamuna one day.There were only Madhav’s old mothe

and niece left in his house. Taraka soo

grew up and granny was worried abou



her marriage. A few days later I learn

hat Taraka had gone off her head.

could not bring myself to believe it an

went to Madhav’s house. There waTaraka sitting in the doorway making

braid. She carried the lovely bloom o

outh, but her eyes were vacant. Thewere frightening. She stared at me a lon

ime, but did not recognise me.

Just then her granny came out. Sh

said, ‘Taraka don’t you recognise her

She is the Queen. Bow to her.’ Taraka

said, ‘What queen?’ Granny said, ‘Don’

ou know, you silly? She is the Queen oour King Yayati?’ Suddenly she looked

at the braid in her hand and screamed

Lord, what a big snake! Snake! Snake!’



Taraka had nothing to do with Hi

Majesty. She was only his friend’

niece. But even she did not escap

misfortune.

Eighteen years ago I had made Hi

Majesty take the oath. Even as Queen,

have lived like an ascetic. For nights oend, I was restless.

Sometimes, my firmness was on th

point of giving way. I would go to

Ashokavan but even after getting there,

never went in.

His Majesty, however, kept his word

He started a life of indulgence in animapleasures. First, when I heard of it,

was stung to the quick. I was disguste

with the love affairs of men and women



felt the world would have been

happier place if God had not created thi

attraction.

Occasionally, a chord somewhere in

corner of the heart would pulsate. I

would come alive with the words, ‘You

silly woman, forget your pride. Gstraight to His Majesty, wherever h

maybe. He maybe drunk. He maybe i

he arms of another woman. Fall at hi

feet and bathe them with your tears

saying, “What are you doing? Lord of m

heart, where are you going? A blemish

on you is a blemish on me. I fall witou. I am your wife. Must not th

husband protect the good name of hi

wife? You may squirt liquor on me.



shall not turn a hair. Crush Devayani fo

he sake of your pleasure as you might

flower. But stop this sacrilege of you

duty. Wake up to your duty as a husbandRemember your duty as a father. Do no

forget your duty as King.” ’

I did quite often feel like falling at thfeet of His Majesty and saying all thi

and more. But it was a passing thought

The next moment, I would think o

Kacha. How dearly he loved me. H

gave up love from a sheer sense of duty

He returned to heaven with Sanjeevan

All the beauties of heaven must havaid their beauty at his feet. But he wa

not moved or tempted. He did not stra

from his undertaking.



Remembering Kacha’s austerity and

renunciation, the indulgence of Hi

Majesty was disgusting. I was ashame

o submit to him. Kacha used to sayWhy do we lay flowers on a stone? Ha

he fragrance of flowers ever permeate

he stone?’ A lover should be in Kacha’smage. A woman should worship such a

man.

Married to Kacha, I would have bee

happy. The happiness which I would

have had in his cottage has not come m

way, even for a day, in this palace.

But, would I in fact have been happy

certainly loved him; but is th

attraction of blind love enough to mak



one happy? Was my love of him

selfless? No. Even that was a kind o

self-indulgence. If I was truly in lov

with him, I would have hesitated ipronouncing a curse on him. My lip

would have turned black with thos

poisonous words.What is love? What a puzzle it is. I

he disgusting indulgence of His Majest

over the last eighteen years love? Wa

he genuinely in love with Sharmishtha

To flirt with another woman deceivin

one’s wife ...

Sharmishtha! Her mere memory makeme burn. It must have been a

nauspicious moment, when I decided t

make her my maid. Because of her, I wa



separated from His Majesty. On the on

hand, I am denied even his touch. On th

other, he has fallen to abysmal depths

Today, Prince Yadu has been defeatedWhat a calamity! But His Majesty is no

paying any heed to it.

His Majesty should have rushed to mef he had set out to free Yadu, my eye

would have filled with tears

worshipping him. He would hav

enderly wiped those tears, saying

There is nothing to worry about, yo

silly one. Inside of two weeks, I shal

bring Yadu back to you.’‘You silly one.’ How sweet the words

are. No, that is not to be. Is lonelines

forever going to be my miserabl



companion?

Memories of the last eighteen year

haunted me. I was disheartened. Th

Prime Minister had not returned. It wa

clear that His Majesty was not prepare

o do anything to free Yadu.

* * *

A maid brought news of the Prim

Minister’s return. He came in, hung hi

head and was quiet. I asked sharply

Why were you so long?’

‘I could not get an audience with thKing for sometime.’

I asked, ‘In the end, did you or did yo

not see him?’



wedding, will soon open. Let Fathe

finish his penance. Then there will b

ime to show him.

A maid rushed in. Her face was lit up

with pleasure. She breathlessly sai

There is a messenger outside come o

he gallop. Your Majesty, his horsevomited blood and died as the rider go

off.’

I rushed out. He humbly made a

obeisance and said, ‘Your Majesty,

have come with very happy tidings. Th

Prince has been rescued from captivity.

My joy knew no bounds, I was verproud of Yadu’s valour and adventure.

asked impatiently, ‘How did the Princ

free himself? How did he escape? B



killing off the sentries?’

‘No, Your Majesty. Someone risked

his life to free the Prince.’

‘Who? The army commander?’

‘Not he. He is a youth of about th

same age as the Prince.’

‘His name?’

‘I do not know the hero’s name. He i

not of our army. The army commande

sent me post-haste to give Your Majestyhese glad tidings. The Prince is on hi

way to the capital to present the hero t

Your Majesty. They will reach

Hastinapur in two weeks’ time.’

I was still thinking of a present to b

given to the messenger, when anothe

maid brought news of a secon



messenger.

I recognised the messenger as he cam

n. He had come from King Vrishaparva

Father had successfully completed hi

penance. The demon kingdom wa

festive. Father was coming to take me t

he festivities. The message said that hwould be here in two weeks.

A happy Devayani was consoling th

unhappy Devayani now. She said

Today your penance has borne fruit

You suffered very badly for eighteen

ears. Now the worst is over. You shal

nform Maharishi Shukra abouSharmishtha, he will immediately set up

Yadu on the throne and punish Hi

Majesty ...’



was in a trance:

I had visions of Yadu being

crowned as king. The sacred waters

of all the rivers in Aryavarta were

being sprinkled on him; and yet all

the priests and ascetics felt that

there was a flaw somewhere. In theend, Yadu bows to me. My tears of

joy bathe his head. Father smiles

and says, ‘Now the coronation is

sanctified!’

In a moment, His Majesty is on his

knees before me saying, ‘I am in a

hundred ways guilty of neglectingyou. Forgive me.’



YAYAT

here am I — in heaven or hell? Am really Yayati? The husband o

Devayani? Devayani! What Devayani

Devayani is nothing to me. How can tha

be? She is my sworn enemy from aearlier birth. She has thrown me into thi

hell.

Am I in hell? Oh no, for many year



now I have been enjoying heavenl

bliss.

How many years? Eighteen? No,

have been in heaven for something lik

eighteen hundred years. I am foreve

drinking nectar from the lips of beautifu

maidens. Under the tree which grantevery wish is my bed. I loll in bed nigh

and day, on a mattress of delicate whit

flowers. Now, I am going to take Indran

n my arms.

Indrani, it was on Indrani’s accoun

hat King Nahusha was cursed. Who i

hat whispering in my ear? ‘The childreof King Nahusha will never be happy.’

But I am the son of King Nahusha.

am happy. My brother Yati ran away to



he jungle and lost his reason. But I a

sailing in a sea of happiness. All my

sorrows have been drowned in this sea

Except only one, the memory oSharmishtha. No, this agony of mine wil

never get drowned in wine. I canno

wipe out that memory even with bloodrawn in a hunt. No maiden in my bed

ending to my physical pleasure with he

embraces, can crush that poignan

memory.

No, Yayati is not happy. He is

unhappy. Am I unhappy? I really do no

know if I am happy or unhappy. What ihappiness? What is misery? Ther

cannot be two more difficult question

han these. Am I still Yayati or someone



emerging from the cup? It is not just

one figure. But — one ... two ...

three ... seventeen, eighteen.

Eighteen naked witches emerging

from this cup ...

What a weird dance they are doing.

What are they dancing on? Theylook like the corpses of

inexperienced beautiful young

maidens. This sweet girl baffled by

the first stirring of love; this

budding sweet girl who blushes to

herself with the first imprint of love

in her heart; this bold maiden,thrilled by the sacred experience of

love; this charming young woman

bursting with youth, preparing to



enter the golden temple, cherished

in her dreams, of love, with a salver

stacked with flowers and other

articles of worship; these uglywitches are dancing on the corpses

of all these.

They join in song with their dance.Their notes are like the furious

hissing of a cobra.

Oh God! The twinkling lamps of

heaven are going out one by one

with every note sung by them. In no

time the sky is dark and inky. These

witches have put out all the lamps inheaven with every breath of their

song.

What song, heralding the end of the



world, are these witches singing?

One of them danced up to me and

with a grotesque smile said, ‘Do

you recognise me? How foolish.

You still have not recognised us

sisters! We have striven so much for

your pleasure, you ungratefulwretch! You have failed to

recognise us, after all the pleasure

you derived to your heart’s content

in our company?’

Another tall one came very close to

me. She laughed fiendishly. I closed

my eyes, terrified by her intimacy.She put her arms round me and said,

‘Come and play with me.’

I opened my eyes. She took her



hands off me and closed her fist.

When she opened it, there were

cowries[1] in it.

Cowries? No, they are eyes. These,

these are Madhavi’s! These are

Taraka’s!

They were not cowries. They wereeyes. How much had I kissed them.

They were like little boats out to

exploit love with eyelids for their

oars. In those tiny boats, I have

often been as far as the fringe of

heaven.

The witch said, ‘Come, let us playwith these cowries.’ I shuddered.

For fear of life itself, I pushed her

away with difficulty.



Was all this fiction? I had neve

ndulged in it in the last eighteen years

Then why should it come to me now

Was it fact or fiction? Before me is onlyan empty glass. An empty glass. A blank

mind. A vacant heart.

The feeling of emptiness burnt insidme. Like a bird caught in a forest fire

flapping its wings and screeching, m

mind was flapping in a void o

oneliness. There was nowhere it coul

rest. In the end, I jumped into the ocea

of wine. I said to every wave in it, ‘Tak

me far, far down. Take me to the bottomof the dark sea of forgetfulness. Hide m

n the chasm of some huge rock. Let m

sleep there in peace. Let me sleep ther



n peace for all time.’

* * *

One day, I was fast asleep. But I wok

up suddenly. I could see nothing. I could

perceive nothing.‘It is evening.’

Who was talking? What did he say? I

was evening? Did he mean the eveninof my life?

This celestial messenger must hav

been mistaken. You silly, this is the

Ashokavan in Hastinapur. I am KinYayati. How can the evening of my life

come yet? I eagerly look forward t

every night. Go away celestia



messenger, try and remember the nam

of that senile old King on his deathbe

for whom it was intended and give hi

our message.

‘It is evening, Your Majesty. It is time

o get ready.’

I laughed to myself. It was onlMukulika talking to me. How terrifie

and upset I was, believing her to be

celestial messenger.

‘It is a beautiful evening. Shall I se

our things out?’

‘Pour me some wine and get my thing

ready if you have been able to find nice fresh flower.’

I went to the window. It was indeed

an inviting evening.



I thought all poets are slaves o

portents. They have set ideas o

beautiful evenings such as this. Thi

ntriguing pink of eventide in the west —s this the hue of eventide? The sun too

a sip of wine and put the same cup to th

ips of the evening. She demurred anwas coy but while protesting mildly, tha

she did not want any, she suddenly pu

her hand out for it. With that the cup fel

down and this is the wine that was spilt.

This gorgeous red of the eventide

This is the joy incarnate of the pleasure

of a hunt. This day, the quarry which hadescaped at dawn from the hands of th

ribal, was now within range. The arrow

has dug deep into its heart. It is th



blood spurting from that deep gash tha

has coloured the western horizon.

I thought I might cast an evil eye on th

exquisitely beautiful panorama befor

me and closed my eyes.

In life there are only three abidin

realities — wine, women and huntingMan forgets his unhappiness in thei

pursuit.

Wine stimulates the imagination andfrees the inhibiting shackles. All though

of morality, duty and good and evil mel

n the tempting warmth of wine.

In this life, one who does not want tbe a quarry oneself must prey on th

others. There is nothing like hunting t

bring home to one this ultimate truth o



ife. The truth jars and smacks of cruelty

But that is the most important, al

pervading hymn in the lyric of life

Purity, beauty and innocence are merwords conjured up by the upright an

weak. The holy sacrificial fire is nothin

more than the funeral pyre of thsacrificial goat. A beautiful woman is no

more than a living doll catering to th

ransient impulse of passion. Th

carefree harmless deer is just foodprovided by creation for the hunter.

And in the company of a woman ar

combined the pleasures of wine and thhunt.

I opened my eyes. All the hues o

eventide had vanished. Darkness hel



sway over the sky, the interstellar space

he earth. It was Time! All-consuming

Time! It was He who had made shor

shrift of the beautiful hues of eventide.

I did not dare to stand there, I turne

away and lay down on the bed. Mukulik

had already laid my things out. She waaimlessly hovering round me. I could no

bring myself to believe that this was th

Mukulika in whose company the myster

of the attraction of man and woman ha

been first revealed to me.

She was now middle-aged an

omorrow she will be old. I also ...Yesterday, today, tomorrow. No, wha

do yesterdays and tomorrows matter

Man has only one concern — the presen



moment. I have lived for the present fo

he last eighteen years. I tried to drow

he swift wheel of racing time in a cup o

wine and bring it to a standstill. I tried tensnare it in the glances of beautifu

women and hold it in their embraces.

No, I refuse to heed the past or thfuture.

Get rid of Mukulika? Can she easil

be put away? No, her existence and m

pleasures are inevitably linked together

* * *

That terrible night eighteen years ago.

came out of Devayani’s apartment

aking an oath that I would never agai



go near her. The poisonous darts o

disgrace were gnawing at me.

In the end, I turned to the cottage o

Mukulika’s preceptor. I thought I had

seen him somewhere before. Th

mystery was soon cleared. He wa

Mandar.Mandar posed as a great sage. He ha

made up very well. His speech had

ure about it. His discourses on religio

had the power to bring peace to trouble

minds. There were as many disciples o

Mandar as there are nuances of misery i

he world. On the other hand there wermany among his following who wer

here merely to achieve pleasures, no

easily available otherwise. But ther



was a handsome sprinkling of beautifu

oung women also. Mandar made skilfu

use of them. He had captivated m

eighteen years ago by just this device.

That night I longed for indulgenc

which would enable me to forge

everything. I wished to forgeDevayani’s insults, I had no time fo

good and evil or morality an

mmorality. It was Mandar who showed

me the way that night. I cannot even bea

o think what would have happened i

hat night Mandar had not shown me thi

easy way of escape, if he had not pilotehe bark of my life, heading for suicide.

Seeing Mandar that night in hi

hermitage, I was reminded of Yati. Yati



strove with implicit faith toward

attaining God by torturing his body.

Yati and Mandar? — What a contrast

Mandar’s philosophy was very differen

from Yati’s. The ordinary man believed

n it — it was more acceptable to him.

fell a victim to his teachings just becausof that. The essence of Mandar’

philosophy was life is transient; it is lik

a flower which blooms today and fade

omorrow. One must taste as much of it

fragrance as one can; the means ar

mmaterial. There is no sin in it.

Treading this unfamiliar path, inherennhibitions sometimes made me uneasy

As much as to say harshly, ‘Fool, wher

are you going?’



On such occasions Mandar woul

persuade me, sometimes by quoting fro

he ancient tenets of the sages. At othe

imes he would recount the unbridlendulgence in pleasure of renowned me

and women. Yet again, he would

mpress on me the transience of life froexamples in everyday life.

Once he and I were driving round th

own in a chariot. We turned off the

highway. Alongside was a potter’s shop

Smiling cynically, Mandar said, ‘Th

Almighty also is a potter.’

I asked, ‘In what sense?’‘He also makes similar earthe

vessels ... like you and me. Whe

earthen vessels break, they return t



after that day he would never again b

able to do so.

Looking at the blazing pyre,

magined myself in the place of th

outh.

Mandar put his hand on my shoulde

and said, ‘Your Majesty, in the runningaccount of life, there is no place fo

deferred consumption. He who does no

draw on pleasure today may not be abl

o get it tomorrow. In life the next golde

day will dawn. The fragrant flower

will bloom. But he may not himself b

here on the morrow to enjoy them.’One day we happened to visit th

house of a man of learning. Madhav ha

aken me to that very house. Now he wa



senile. He could remember nothing, se

nothing and was barely able to walk. Bu

he pleasures which he had spurned i

his youth, had now turned on him irevenge. His unrequited passions wer

rising to the surface in strangel

distorted forms. He would stand on throad and try to ogle at young girl

passing by. His children would take him

back to the house and lock him up. Eve

here he defaced the walls with obscensketches in black. The women in the

were half naked and in the presence o

his grandchildren, he would kiss them.In Mandar’s cottage, I saw man

oung and middle-aged men and women

t all added up to this — religion



morality, duty, soul and goodness — al

hese pious words are sacrosanct to man

But it is only a blind.

Life is transient. Death is uncertai

and may come any moment. Therefore

every moment of life is worth its weigh

n gold. Man must accordingly assuaghis desires wringing from life all th

fragrance, sweetness and happiness h

can. Such was the philosophy given t

me by Mandar.

started on this new life like th

whirlwind. For eighteen years, onseason followed another. Spring

summer, autumn and winter seemed to b

chasing each other around. The wheel o



ime had covered eighteen milestones

ight and day played hide and seek

ight found the day and the day in tur

found the night. Year after year rolledby. But there was no break or change in

he routine of my life.

Beautiful young maidens tended to mpleasure one day and were gone the nex

My one concern was to ensure that th

cup of my happiness was full. Manda

and Mukulika did keep it filled an

filled to overflowing for eighteen years.

There are two nights in this orgy which cannot put out of my mind. They ar

gnawing at me. They are nightmares.

One evening, Mukulika brought to m



for a companion a beautiful young girl.

ook her to bed. All I knew at the tim

was that she had lovely eyes. The girl i

my arms muttered, ‘Madhav, Madhav.’ was gently trying to put my hands roun

her, when she hugged me closer and

murmured, ‘Am I not yours? DonMadhav, don’t leave me like this!’

I was stunned. I peered at her.

recognised her. She was Madhavi

Mukulika must have doped her or mayb

Mandar had hypnotised her. They alon

knew what they did in replenishing m

cup of happiness.Gradually, Madhavi came to. Sh

ooked steadily at me. Then sh

screamed and ran out of the room



pushing open the door. Her body wa

found in the Yamuna the next day.

Another night, Mukulika brought to m

a coy young maiden. Only next mornin

did I find out it was Taraka! She wok

up as I was looking at her. She was in

error, as if bitten by a snake. The nexmoment she was screaming, ‘Snake

snake!’ and running out of the room.

I heard later that she had gone off he

head. Some years later, someone told m

hat she mistook the sparks from a fir

for flowers, went near to gather the

and was burnt to death.

The bride-to-be of my dearest friend

His niece! Both lives were laid desolat



because of me. I had ruined the life o

Madhavi and had been guilty of th

cruelest act towards Taraka whom I had

seen playing with her dolls. ‘Will you bhe husband of my doll?’ Those lispin

words of hers. I brought her living death

On these two occasions, I was upsefor a long time. But I did not know o

any way other than Mandar’s. I thought

was secure and fulfilled under th

nfluence of drink, the excitement of th

hunt, and the heavenly bliss in the arm

of a woman. Away from them, I was

obsessed with being lonely, unhappy andnsecure.

The seasons followed one another an

he wheel of time kept turning. Th



course of my pleasure wa

uninterrupted.

I heard Mukulika saying, ‘It is almos

midnight, Your Majesty.’ I opened my

eyes.

I smiled at Mukulika. She cam

forward quickly and dressed me in nime.

* * *

stood before the mirror. I was happ

ooking at my full-length reflection.

was handsome enough to be attractive tany young woman. I looked as young a

Yayati bending over young Alaka to kiss

her.



I had a good look at myself in th

mirror. In a few moments, the imag

dimmed and became hazy. Behind th

vague outline, I could see the forms onnumerable young maidens, grindin

heir teeth at me.

I stepped back a little and the hazinesdisappeared. I looked at my reflectio

again. My hair was tousled. I looke

more carefully. The next moment I wa

stunned as if by a blow. One white hai

was peeping through an otherwise blac

mass. That white hair seemed to me lik

he ashen hand of a sage pronouncing curse.

The banner of old age had bee

planted on Yayati’s head! Old age? The



most unsavoury part of the drama of life

would soon be old. I am still hungr

and thirsting for pleasure. No, I shall no

get old!

But that white hair? It maybe m

magination, as were those forms o

oung maidens a little while ago. ooked into the mirror again with grea

hope. The white hair was still there. I

was a clear manifestation of what wa

coming.

I closed my eyes. I kept impressing o

myself that the only real Yayati was the

one who had kissed young Alaka. Thwhite hair was the precursor of the crue

nevitable. I did not want to heed it

message. I tried to escape from it int



he past.

In doing so, I got back as far as Alaka

The Alaka of that glorious evening —

with her golden hair — I had not yet ha

one with golden hair.

Mukulika quietly opened the door o

he bedroom. The girl got up from thcouch. She cast a luring glance at me an

sat down.

The maiden was beautiful like thsculpture of an angel. I spread my arm

..

Just then I heard Mukulika’s tremulou

hoarse words: ‘Your Majesty.’ I askedn irritation, ‘What is the matter?’

‘The Prime Minister is here.’

‘I have no time to see him.’



‘He has been here sometime and h

will not take no for an answer. He says

he Prince has been captured.’

The Prince — captive — Alaka —

golden hair — white hair — old age —

death.

The Prime Minister talked at lengthHe prattled on and on. But I did not wan

o hear for a moment his idle talk abou

court matters. My mind was hoverin

round the girl near me.

Devayani was crying because Yadu

had been taken captive. Devayani ha

deputed the Prime Minister to remind mof my duty as King and as a father bu

how far had she honoured her duty a

wife? Did she once think of her husban



n the last eighteen years? Did she eve

feel that she ought to have forgiven him

Did she ever wish to rescue him fro

being carried away and drowned in thstream? Was she afraid of the huge

flood? Sharmishtha would never hav

kept quiet in those circumstances. Thfact is that she never loved me. What i

he use crying now? She feels today tha

should be true to my duty as King an

as father. Only he who honours his duthas the right to expect others to honou

heirs. Where did she leave her duty a

wife for the last eighteen years?The Prime Minister talked away. H

was trying to persuade me to return t

he palace.



Go on a campaign to free Yadu, take

o the battlefield. What if I am killed

o, my life is yet to be lived. I am ye

unfulfilled. My youth is still unsatisfiedThe golden-haired girl — golden hair —

white hair — old age, death. No —

shall not set out to rescue Yadu. I had byhen lost control over myself and did no

care what I said.

‘Please tell Her Majesty I am gratefu

o her for remembering me after so man

ears.’

The Prime Minister returned to th

attack. By now, I was exasperated andost my temper. I added, ‘Let alon

Yadu, I shall not move my little finge

even if Her Majesty were captured.’



As soon as I returned to the bedroom

my unknown bedmate stood up. But m

white hair was bothering me. What if sh

sees it? No, the shadow of old agcreeping over Yayati must not be notice

by anyone. Yayati is ever young! Yayati

was going to remain ever young!I stood before the mirror. What grea

hope I had that the white hair woul

have disappeared. But the wicked thin

was impudently jeering at me.

I remembered the golden hair o

Alaka. I was taken aback to find the gir

standing close to me. She had put hehand on my shoulder. Seeing me inactiv

nspite of her intimacy, she put her arm

round me.



I looked at her hair and shouted, ‘G

away.’

She did not know what she had done

She looked at me a little scared. I calle

angrily to Mukulika.

‘Take this flower of yours and throw

t away. Don’t you know my taste?’She went to the girl and lifted her hea

a little. She was crying. I bent her hea

gently, saying, ‘Look and see. Is there single golden hair in this? I want a gir

with golden hair! When can I get her .

omorrow?’

‘How can I find one by tomorrow?’

Mukulika begged of me with folde

hands, ‘If Your Majesty will kindly give

us fifteen days?’



‘All right, I will give you the time. Bu

f you do not succeed, the sixteenth da

ou and your preceptor will be publicl

disgraced. What is today?’

‘It is new moon today.’

‘All right. If by full moon day, a gir

with golden hair is not presented ...’Mukulika stood there with folde

hands. I shouted at her, ‘Get out.’

woke up next day well after sunrise

mmediately on rising, I went to th

mirror and looked carefully at myself.

was stunned. Not only was the whit

hair of last night mocking me but by it

side was another white hair.

Distressed, I went and lay in bed.



ossed about from side to side. Th

umult of thought, enough to split th

head, would not stop. I was again an

again reminded of Sharmishtha. I coulhave told her without reserve my fear o

old age, death and lack of contentmen

with life. Her tears would have assuagehe unnamed fear in my heart. But I wa

alone. In this whole world, I was al

alone.

I began thinking. Why should I not fee

contented even after eighteen years o

icentious pleasure?

What is the content of life? Why iman born? Why does he die? What is th

purpose of life? What is its significance

Are life and death, youth and old age, th



wo sides of the same coin? Are the

pairs as natural as day and night? Wh

hen is man so afraid of old age an

death?

What does man live on? Love? Bu

what then is love? Are love, kindnes

and affection mere masks? Man liveonly for his own happiness, only for th

satisfaction of his ego.

The love of the parents, the love o

man and wife — all love is pretension

t is mere playacting. At heart, man only

oves himself, his body, his happines

and his ego. Even in that wonderfuender and mysterious attraction betwee

man and woman, this element of sel

does not change. Do a few hours o



physical pleasure measure up to love

Momentary satisfaction of violen

passion — does it amount to love?

No. Love is apart from desire. In th

ove of man and wife also, desire burn

but that is sacred like the sacrificial fire

t burns within the bounds of the moralof life.

I did not keep the sanctity of it. M

profligate life has been nothing short of

forest conflagration. Many innocen

birds were scorched in that fire. Man

ender fragrant creepers were reduced t

ashes in it.Is this repentance? Is this prematur

renunciation brought about by the sigh

of those two white hairs? To achiev



pleasure, I spent every moment i

ndulgence. Why then am I stil

unsatisfied? Why am I unhappy? How i

t that the stream of countless momentarpleasures does not produce even a drop

of eternal happiness?

Really — what is happiness?Pleasure is a butterfly. It flits from

flower to flower, tasting honey. But can

he butterfly aspire to be an eagle? If yo

wish to bring a jug of nectar fro

heaven, a butterfly is unequal to the task

Only the eagle can attempt it. Th

butterfly and the eagle. Momentarpleasure and lasting happiness are thing

apart. I pursued pleasure but getting

did not bring me happiness.



What constitutes happiness? Has it n

relation to any physical pleasure? No

here was nothing wrong with th

ibertine’s life which I had led foeighteen years. I loved myself. I sough

my own pleasure. Was I to blame for it?

Is man’s love confined to the love ohis own self? Alaka’s love, Madhav’s

ove, Kacha’s love, were all these love

selfish? Were they not selfless?

And Sharmishtha — her love for me

There she is in the jungle eating root

and herbs, worshipping me at heart. And

? I am all the time mocking her sacreove steeped in wine. The lips sanctifie

by her kisses are sacrileged with kissin

other tainted lips.



o do it?

Kacha was not born a recluse. H

oved Devayani with all his heart. H

put duty to his community before self. I

honouring that duty, he renounced love

That sacrifice did not make his lif

futile, miserable, or idle.I had the happiness of a household i

he company of Devayani. I experience

a glorious, noble love with Sharmishtha

But I was not satisfied. I am still no

satisfied. And yet, Kacha, who i

unaware of the nectar of a maiden’

uscious lips, is satisfied. Why should be so? Where did I go wrong?

Kacha wrote to me from this ver

Ashokavan. I very much wish to rea



hat letter once again, but it is at th

palace. Both the things are there. Th

golden hair of Alaka and that letter o

gold of Kacha.

Shall I get peace of mind by readin

hat letter? But Devayani will not give

o anyone else. What if I go to the palacand fetch it? I shall never go there a

ong as I live.

But am I happy at least in Ashokavan

Why is my mind straining to drown th

fear of death, roused by the white hair

n the infatuation of a golden-haire

maiden?Are desires akin to ghosts? My desir

for Alaka in my youth remained

unsatisfied. How has that desire



repressed in the subconscious for man

ears, come to the surface now?

Why should I not be able to conque

t? Is it the rule of the universe tha

unless the pursuit of pleasures i

renounced, the ultimate truth of life is no

revealed? Devayani had taken care tkeep Yadu away from me all the time

My instinct of affection was unsatisfied

Would the void in my mind have been

filled in Yadu’s company? If not Yadu,

Puroo? Where is he? How heartless

have been. I have completely forgotte

him in the last eighteen years. Dsensuous pleasures dull the mind? D

hey lead to lack of humanity? How di

Kacha acquire his restraint? Why could



not have it?

To all appearances, I was lying dow

quietly on the bed. I looked as if I wa

fast asleep. But inside I was shaken b

blow after blow. Things which I wished

o forget were stealthily peeping throug

he subconscious. They were tearing amy heart. I dared not look at my past lif

without trepidation. There was only on

way out of my misery — suicide.

I shuddered. Then I laughed to myself

f I had the courage to take my life woul

not have done so eighteen years ago?

I had another long familiar way oemerging from my queer depression

That was to go over the sweet moment

of past indulgence.



Many figures who had served to keep

my cup of happiness ever filled to th

brim passed before my eyes. Here i

one. What a beautiful head of hair shhad. Not a head of hair, but a mass o

bees attracted to her lotus face.

Here is that dark but lovely maiden. Iou just touched her lips with yours,

hrill of ecstasy ran though your body

What utter delight her mouth was! Her

s that vivacious maiden. She coul

each a thing or two in the art of makin

ove, even to the god of love.

Innumerable such figures passebefore my eyes, I gathered a rich harves

of happiness in alluring glances, tende

embraces and silken heads of hair. Bu



even so, a golden-haired girl ...

Is Your Majesty not feeling welonight?’ Mukulika standing by the bed

bent over to ask me.

I opened my eyes. I said angrily

Where were you so long?’

‘I had gone to the palace very early.’

‘What did you find out?’

‘The Prince is free. There is grearejoicing at the palace.’

I asked in surprise, ‘The Prince i

free? How?’‘Some brave youth freed him at risk t

his own life. The Prince is on his wa

here with his friend.’



My heart should have leapt at Yadu’s

being released from captivity, but what

said was, ‘Yadu has been freed? Good.

Was Yayati living a fuller life day afterday in the last eighteen years or was h

dying by inches? How much of Yayat

was dead? Who, who was thawhispering, ‘Yayati is alive only

physically!’

Mukulika hurriedly told me, ‘Now tha

his penance is over the father of He

Majesty is soon coming here.’

Maharishi Shukra coming here? I

which case should I go out oHastinapur? Mukulika went on, ‘Kach

has also been invited by Her Majesty!’

She was by now very near me an



whispered, ‘The Queen has decided t

crown the Prince. In order to get th

blessings of both Maharishi Shukra an

Kacha ...’

Whatever happened I would no

relinquish the throne of Hastinapur.

said, ‘Kacha also is sitting in penance.’‘Yes, but they say that also is over.’

I smiled and said, ‘It looks as i

generally the time for penance is up. Sbe it. My penance can also end now.’

‘What does Your Majesty mean?’

‘Fill the cup and I will tell you.’

‘In the morning ...?’

‘A maid has no business to as

questions. Your duty ends with giving

me even a cup of poison, if asked for it.



I put the cup to my mouth and said

Wake me up when the golden-haired

girl arrives. Till then let me sleep .

sleep.’

During those fifteen days of waitin

for the full moon and the golden-haire

girl another realisation kept recurring. Isaid, ‘Yayati, you fool, where are you

going? This is the way to hell.’ I would

sip a little wine and say, ‘Is it not tru

hat Heaven and Hell are near eac

other?’ It would say, ‘Yes ... they border

one another.’ I would reply with a smile

Then why are you so afraid for meTomorrow, in a moment I shall quit the

way to Hell and go on the way t

Heaven.’



It would say: ‘You fool, there is

barricade every inch of the borde

between Heaven and Hell. In man’

childhood, it is all taken down. But as hgrows up man himself raises them on

by one. And once closed, none of th

doors can ever again be openedUnfortunate one! Now there is only on

door open to you. Don’t close it wit

our own hands. Listen to me, heed me!

This pricking consciousness I wouldrown in the cup.

But the nightmare I had could not b

drowned:

I would first see an enormous

chariot. It had six horses tethered to

it. All of them appeared to be



spirited animals. The charioteer of

my dream was staking his life to

rein in the steeds. But they were

beyond his control. They wererunning at will, careering madly

over pits and potholes, shattering

loose the chariot in their mad rush.

Every night I dreamt thus. But on th

fourteenth night:

The chariot went down a difficult bypass. On one side were towering

hills. On the other a deep chasm.

The finest and most spirited of thesix horses took the bit between his

teeth and ran amuck. He headed for

the chasm. The reins broke, the

whip lashed the back of the air and



in no time the chariot crashed. From

the abyss came a deafening roar as

if the heavens had fallen.

got up screaming ‘Shama, Shama.’ Wh

did I call to Sharmishtha in my dream?

felt the dream was an evil omen

Perhaps Sharmishtha was taking leave o

his cruel world somewhere. I could no

sleep. All night I lay in bed dead drunk

ike a corpse.

The sun was setting. The full moon wa

coming up. The sky appeared to bhrilled with happiness, drinking fro

he cup of the moon. The cup in its han

ilted a little and the wine overflowed a



moonlight on the earth.

Soon, Mukulika gave me the goo

news. With great difficulty, Mandar had

found a girl with golden hair for me

Shall I find the joy of taking Alaka when

crush her golden hair in my hands?

I told Mukulika, ‘I shall not bdeceived. If her hair is not golden, the

ou two will be beheaded. And wher

did you find this golden doll?’

‘Here itself.’

‘If she was found here, why was sh

not brought to me before? That Manda

s a fraud. You are cunning.’

‘Forgive me Your Majesty, but she is

not from Hastinapur. She only came to

he town today looking for her lover.’



She continued, ‘Her lover is a yout

who has gone to war. Someone told he

hat he was coming to town today wit

Prince Yadu. She left her escort, anelderly lady, and came to town thi

morning, only to learn that the Princ

was returning tonight. She wadisappointed. She is very naughty. Sh

started screaming, so we had to give he

a little dope. She should come round b

about midnight.’

‘Must I wait so long? Why did yo

give her so much dope?’

‘She was very violent, Your MajestyThere are many visitors today in th

hermitage. What if some of thes

strangers got wise to what is happening



Also, the courier has brought word tha

Maharishi Shukra will arrive at th

palace at about nine. The Prince is als

arriving about that time. So the preceptohought that your Majesty will b

otherwise engaged till almost midnigh

..’‘You are a fool and your preceptor i

worse. I am not concerned with th

Prince returning to town. Mak

arrangements to bring the golden-haire

girl in a palanquin straightaway, withou

rousing suspicion.’

Looking at the girl lying unconsciouon the bed, I could not make up my min

whether I was dreaming or it was in fac

my Alaka that I was seeing again. Sh



certainly had golden hair. Th

ntervening twenty years had rolle

away. I had regained my Alaka!

I was getting impatient for her. I wa

angry with Mandar and Mukulika. Wh

had asked them to give her so muc

dope? How can one make love to corpse?

I did not know how late it was. I ha

now no desire to sip wine. I wanted jus

o forget everything. God knows wha

omorrow will bring? Maharishi Shukra

Devayani ...

Today — here — now was thmoment, the golden moment!

I could not wait. I went and stood nea

he girl. I bent down to kiss her golde



hair. I was back again in my youth

Alaka was going to be my love tonigh

That golden dream hidden in my hear

for years was going to come true today.

But before I could put my lips to th

golden mop of hair, Mukulika screeched

from behind the door, ‘Your Majestyplease come out ... come out quickly!’

I resented the interruption but raise

my head and asked, ‘Why?’

‘The Queen and Maharishi Shukra ar

coming. Maharishi Shukra is in a rag

and is asking everybody where You

Majesty is!’My legs gave way. The tongue wen

dry. Like one lying ill for a long time,

stumbled into the outer room draggin



my feet.

Seeing me come in, Devayani, wh

was sitting on a couch, turned her hea

n disgust. Maharishi Shukra was pacin

he floor in a rage. The room was goin

round and round. I leaned against th

wall mirror and held myself up witdifficulty.

Maharishi Shukra suddenly stopped

fixed me with his eyes for a few second

and then in great anger said, ‘Yayati,

have not come to you in the role of

sage. Do you recognise me?’

I nodded with trepidation.Jeering at me, he said, ‘You are unde

he influence of drink and not in you

right senses. I am Shukra, the invincibl



Preceptor of the Demons, who havin

acquired Sanjeevani brought even th

gods to their knees. I have agai

acquired a power as potent aSanjeevani. I have come to inquire abou

my daughter’s well being and have ha

he misfortune to see my daughtesteeped to the neck in misery. You

rresponsible creature, I gave to you fo

safe keeping a matchless jewe

nvaluable as the earth, and you threw away as a piece of flint.’

I was scared by the wrath o

Maharishi Shukra. No words woulcome out. In the end, I gathered all m

courage to say, ‘Sire, I am guilty; I hav

offended against you in a hundred ways



But Devayani is equally to blame fo

what has unfortunately come to pass.’

On hearing this, Devayani turne

round and seething with rage, said

Father, did you bring me here to see fo

ourself how at every step insults ar

hurled at me? You are tired. Let us goback to the palace. Persons steeped i

vice are worse than the devil.’

My anger knew no bounds and

blurted out, ‘And what about person

steeped in selfish egoism?’

Devayani got angrier. She put her han

on Maharishi Shukra’s shoulder andsaid, ‘Father, Yadu must by now be

entering the town in state while you ar

with a libertine, drowned in wine an



women.’

Maharishi Shukra brushed her han

away and said in anger, ‘Devayani, you

are my all. But you are a fool. You do

not know the right time to do a thing

Once before you lost me the power o

Sanjeevani by insisting on my bringinKacha back to life. I shall not spar

Yayati as a son-in-law. I must punish

him with something which he wil

remember all his life ...’

Devayani said to him sweetly, ‘Settin

Yadu on the throne will open his eyes.

have now no mind for any othehappiness in life.’

I was burning inside at he

melodrama. But Devayani intended t



nsult me which hurt me. I said harshly

I am the King. How can Yadu be

crowned without my consent?’

Maharishi Shukra intervened calmly

King, I grant you your rights as th

King. Has Devayani no rights as th

Queen? When you accepted her hand imarriage did you not swear on oath tha

ou will not violate the sanctity o

marriage?’

‘I was unable to keep it. My youth wa

o blame. I fell a prey to temptation.’

‘If you were young, was Devayan

old?’‘I beg to be forgiven, Sire. I am guilt

n a hundred ways.’

‘Forgiveness is only for the firs



offence. A confirmed criminal will no

mend his ways with light punishment.’

He fell silent and was absorbed i

hought. I was like one chained to a hug

rock, at the mouth of a rumbling volcano

With a disparaging look, Maharish

Shukra said, ‘Your Majesty, is it not truehat you spurned Devayani and took t

ourself Sharmishtha?’

‘I did not love Devayani,’ I wanted tosay.

Sage Shukra raised his voice. Hi

words sounded like the thunder of blac

clouds. He said angrily, ‘Had I nowarned you to be careful o

Sharmishtha? You broke my command ..

he command of Devayani’s father ... th



command of Maharishi Shukra. You

must take the consequences o

disobeying my command.’

‘But, Sire, youth is blind.’

‘I only wish to cure you of your blin

spot. Youth is blind. It was youth tha

empted you. Was it not? Then I am onlygoing to ordain that you shall from now

on lose your youth. I pray that the sinne

before me, sinful Yayati, immediately

urn into a decrepit old man.’

The curse left me staggered, as if I ha

been struck by lightning. The worl

swam before my eyes. My mind becama blank. When I looked into the mirro

with trepidation, my face was wrinkled

My head was all covered with whit



hair. Standing before the mirror was

decrepit old man.

I was reminded of the golden-haire

girl in the bedroom. It must already b

past midnight. The girl must have com

o by now. A little while ago, I had no

even kissed her golden hair. Now, now— I can never kiss it again. Tha

glamorous girl with Alaka’s face ...

I was agonised by my thoughts

Devayani was sitting at the feet o

Maharishi Shukra and moaning, ‘Wha

have you done Father?’

A ray of hope arose in my heart. folded my hands and pleaded, ‘Sire

have mercy on me. My mind is stil

oung. I very much want to live happil



with Devayani. But what pleasure ca

she get in living with a decrepit ol

husband like me?’

Devayani intervened with a pityin

ook, ‘Father, I cannot bear to look a

him. Make him young again.’ Maharish

Shukra said, ‘Your Majesty, the arrowof a warrior and the curse of an asceti

never go in vain. You must suffer my

curse. You wish, even if belatedly, to

ive happily with Devayani again.

shall, therefore, pronounce a counte

curse. If some young man of your ow

flesh and blood comes forward texchange his youth for your old age, a

our wish your old age will pass to him

His youth will come to you. Bu



remember one thing. This borrowe

outh of yours will only return to him a

our death. And in no other way. You

must think of me and repeat three times“I am returning your youth” when yo

fall dead ...’

Devayani screamed, ‘Father what kinof a counter curse is this? This is eve

more terrible than the curse itself.’

Maharishi Shukra was overcome wit

anger and shot up from the couch. H

ooked angrily at Devayani and said

My girl, I rushed here immediately o

arrival to resolve your domestic affairsThat was a mistake. I have fondled an

spoilt you a great deal since childhood

What did I gain? Insults! Nothing bu



nsults! So far I have done what I coul

for you. Now I have nothing to do wit

ou and your husband.’ Maharish

Shukra left the apartment with thoswords.

The two of us remained behind,

senile decrepit and a beautiful ladyDevayani was afraid to look at me.

was ashamed to show my face to her

What a queer and unseemly plight. We

were in one room. But we lived i

different worlds.

I heard vague sounds from th

bedroom. The beautiful girl must bcoming to. That golden hair of hers ...

I heard a maid saying from th

doorway, ‘Your Majesty, the Prince is



coming to see you.’

I saw two youths walking in. I quickl

urned away. If Yadu were to see my old

haggard self ...

But Yadu was my son, Yadu was of my

family. He was my flesh and blood. Hcould take on my old age and give m

his youth.

Yadu was talking to DevayaniHearing that she had suddenly gone t

Ashokavan, he had rushed here. Wit

him was the brave youth who had free

him from captivity.

Every atom of my body wa

contemplating the beautiful girl in m

bed. At that moment, I wanted youth.



wanted the pleasure I could get in he

company only with youth. Suddenly lik

ightning, a thought struck me.

The two youths were taken aback o

seeing me. I calmly called Yadu to me

and said, ‘Yadu, do you recognise me?

am your father Yayati. Do you love yourfather enough to make a sacrifice?’

Devayani suddenly screamed, ‘Yadu

Yadu!’

Devayani had avenged herself on m

for eighteen years. Now was my golde

opportunity to wreak vengeance i

return. I wished to take over Yadu’south and go into the inner room an

come out arm in arm with that beautifu

girl.



I said to Yadu, ‘I have no more wish

o continue as King. You could be

crowned but not only because you ar

my son. You see this old age on me? came by it as the result of a curse. I a

ooking for a youth of my flesh an

blood who is prepared to take it ohimself in exchange for a kingdom. O

he day of my death, he will regain hi

outh. Maharishi Shukra has granted m

a counter curse to that effect. If yowant, ask your mother if it is not true.’

Yadu was startled at my words. He

drew back a little and hastened tDevayani. She took him in her arms an

said, ‘Yadu, your father is off his head

Come, let us return to the palace. Leav



him alone here, to admire his white hai

n the mirror.’

I was furious with Devayani. But

was helpless. His refusal was reflecte

on his face. My hopes had died!

Devayani said looking at Yadu’s

companion, ‘Yadu, you have not yet toldus the name of your companion. Th

skeleton in our cupboard should not hav

been exposed to an outsider!’

The youth said to Devayani in al

humility, ‘Mother, I am no stranger.’

‘You have saved the life of Yadu, my

son. How can I now look upon you as stranger?’

‘Mother, I am willing to do what th

Prince is frightened to undertake.’



Hope sprang in my heart. I went nea

he youth and said, ‘Are you prepared t

ake over my old age?’

‘Gladly.’

‘But, but how could you? It cannot b

aken over except by one of my flesh an

blood.’‘I owe every drop of my blood to you

Your Majesty. I am your son.’

Devayani trembled like an ashen leaat those words. She looked at the yout

and said, ‘His Majesty has only one son

who alone is heir to the throne.’

‘I am not laying a claim to the throne

Mother, I wish to abide by my duty as

son. I want to grant Father’s wish. I a

His Majesty’s son. None can deny m



he right to take over his old age.’

‘You, you are the son o

Sharmishtha?’ asked Devayani in agony

He replied, ‘Yes, my name is Puroo.’

Every atom of my burning body said

Remember, such an opportunity fo

revenge will never recur. You aregetting your youth back. Do not forg

his opportunity for vengeance.’

I looked at Puroo. He stood stilThere was not an iota of fear in his face

I was begging Puroo, now on th

hreshold of youth, for his youth. I wa

set on giving him my old age. No, no

can I even bear to see Puroo, whose mop

of hair I had fondly caressed, standin

before me as a haggard old man wit



white hair? I was shaky in my intentions

Devayani was aflame with the strang

happenings of the last two hours. I

measured steps she walked up to Puro

and said, ‘You are Puroo? Truly Puroo?

The son of Sharmishtha? Why are yo

hesitating then? She is said to have beedeeply in love with him. What is there t

hink of? Give your youth to him! And

and take on his old age.’

All the lurking desires were drummin

n my ears: ‘There is that beautifu

maiden waiting for you in your room

For the last fifteen days, you had set youheart on her. Are you going to throw

away this opportunity without eve

putting your lips to it? Then why did yo



not turn an ascetic eighteen years ago

What, after all, does Puroo stand to los

by taking over your old age for three o

four years? On the other hand, iexchange, he stands to gain a kingdom

For a few years, enjoy life to you

heart’s content; assuage all desire andhen return to him his youth.’

Whether it was because of Devayani’

nagging, Puroo immediately steppe

forward. He put his head on my feet an

said, ‘Father, I am the son of a Princes

who agreed to be a maid for the sake o

her people. I am willing to take on youold age.’ And all I could say in reply

was, ‘So be it!’ Realising th

mplication of those words,



mmediately closed my eyes. A few

moments later, I opened them to bles

Puroo. The Puroo standing before m

was decrepit and old.

Devayani was nonplussed at th

miracle. She left the room on the instan

with Yadu.Puroo stood before the mirror an

scanned his appearance. For a momen

he covered his face with his hands. I di

not know whether he was sorry for hi

sacrifice. But soon after he calmly wen

o the couch and sat there. That calme

me a little.When leaving the town, Sharmishth

had sent a message, ‘Let the hand of Hi

Majesty ever bless Puroo!’ But today,



had crashed a thunderbolt on his head.

wished to go to him, draw him to me an

console him, but that was onl

momentary. I did not have the courageHow timid sin is!

n a couple of hours, the world haurned topsy turvy. Liquor does mak

one subject to hallucinations. Was thi

one? In the whirlpool of thought became numb; I felt choked.

Hard fact stared me in the face in th

haggard form of Puroo. I saw myself i

he mirror. I was looking even youngerMy desire for Alaka — with her golde

hair — the unsatisfied longing of twent

ears was the one and only desire, tha



fired my mind now like the great fire a

he destruction of the world! I turned t

he bedroom.

I went in. The girl was sitting up. Sh

could not fathom how and when she ha

come into the bedroom. She looked a

me and smiled. I felt that my youth habeen rewarded. I stepped forward. Sh

showed fright on her face. She got up

and retired into a corner. I stepped

forward to take her hand when I hear

someone sobbing in the outer room. M

hand went limp.

First, I thought it might be Purosobbing. He must be repenting hi

houghtless sacrifice. But the sobs wer

hose of a woman.



The sobbing outside continued. I

grew louder. I did not want suc

distraction at my happiest moment.

came out in anger.

Puroo was sitting on the couch like

statue. Sitting close to him, with he

arms round him, was a woman weepinand sobbing. Her whole body wa

racked with emotion.

That a maid should be so intimate wit

Puroo? I lost my temper. I stepped

forward and said, ‘Puroo, you are now

King. And a King must keep his dignity

Who is this lowly maid, with her arm..’

The remaining words stuck in m

hroat. At the sound of my voice, th



woman had turned her head. I wishe

hat mother earth would open up an

swallow me.

She was Sharmishtha. She wa

weeping bitterly at Puroo’s condition.

could not bear to look at her. Her sob

were unbearable. I hung my head ishame.

Eighteen years ago, while biddin

Sharmishtha farewell from the top of th

underground stairs, I had said, ‘Go

knows where and in what circumstance

we shall meet again.’ That our meetin

had taken place today. And in such asetting. I was numb. I closed my eyes.

was rooted to the spot.

Sharmishtha, my beloved Shama.



was dying to draw her near me, wipe he

ears and console her. But how was I to

essen her grief? Can the hunter who ha

killed her young one console the deer?

By ourselves, I had often said to her

hat Sharmishtha and Yayati were no

wo but one. But today I had turned heenemy. He whom she had worshipped

all her life in her heart had toda

consigned her to the flames.

Sharmishtha’s tears were bathing m

feet. But every single tear was brandin

my heart. I was ashamed that an ange

ike her should fall at the feet of a deviike me. But I did not have the courage t

ouch her, even to lift her up.

She looked up once. In her eyes wa



crowded the pathos of eternal death

With trembling lips she said, ‘You

Majesty, what has happened to us?’

I had wrought it all with my own evi

hands. With all consciousness, I had

exchanged my old age with Puroo’

outh. Deliberately, for the momentarsatisfaction of the desire for sex!

I had trampled underfoot my duty as

father. I had spurned parental sentimen

and forgotten common humanity. Fo

momentary selfish pleasure, I ha

sacrificed the offspring of my flesh an

blood. For eighteen years, I had beeraising a temple to the demon of desire

What a terrible dome I had set on

oday!



Sharmishtha was mine. She had give

me unflinching love. It was my duty t

ay my life down for a tear of hers. I

was not just a duty; in such death laseas of happiness. I began thinking. To

make Sharmishtha happy, I must return to

Puroo his youth. And that, without moment’s delay. But except with my

death there was no returning to him hi

outh.

Death, from constant fear of which

had succumbed to physical pleasure, th

unknown, unnamed death. Without

hought, was I to embrace it?I turned to Sharmishtha. How

expectantly she was looking at me? Ha

she grumbled when she went into exil



eighteen years ago? She had gon

hrough that ordeal only to save me fro

Devayani’s wrath.

The love of Sharmishtha, of Madhav

of Kacha. Should I also not love thus? A

corner of my heart, which never in th

past had been revealed to me, was nowcoming into view. There was a gentl

ight in that corner. Slowly it grew

bigger.

The joy of dying for someone else is

hundred times greater than the joy o

iving for oneself. What a great an

noble truth this is! But, for the first timoday, it was revealed to me.

Maharishi Shukra had changed m

exterior, now Sharmishtha was changin



my heart. A Yayati I had never seen

before was now standing before me. H

placed his hand on the shoulder of deat

and said, ‘There are only two things rean life, Love and Death. Come my friend

have come to keep you company in thi

darkness. Fear not, fear none. Have yoseen this lamp in my hand? What did yo

say? This is the star of Venus? No, my

friend, it is Sharmishtha’s love.’

I raised her up and said, ‘Shama, don

worry. By the grace of God, everythin

will turn out all right.’

She asked pathetically, ‘Will Puroo brestored to his old self?’

I replied smiling, ‘Yes, here and

now.’



She said with tears in her eyes, ‘No

Your Majesty, you are deceiving me

Puroo will not be his old self.’

Wiping her tears I said, ‘Calm

ourself Shama, calm yourself. You

Puroo will be restored to his old self

Maharishi Shukra did not curse him. Iwas pronounced by the wicked ma

known as Yayati. This licentious

profligate, inhuman Yayati is you

culprit. He has sinned against Puroo.’

She looked blankly at me. She did no

believe my words. I was touched wit

her faith in me. Truly, how good man isHe lives on the strength of confidence

faith, attachment, love, devotion an

service. He has the courage to face deat



on the strength of those. But all thes

sentiments are not attributes of the body

They are attributes of the soul.

During the last eighteen years I ha

ost my soul. Sharmishtha, on the othe

hand, had preserved hers. With th

strength of her faith, it had blossomed. must embrace death, with the sam

ecstasy as of love, and return Puroo’

outh to him.

Knowing that I must accept death fo

he sake of Puroo, Sharmishtha wa

bewildered, and she lost her nerve an

began sobbing, ‘Your Majesty, as I am amother, I am also a wife. I want both my

eyes ... both of them, Your Majesty.’

She could not say more. I melte



seeing her devotion. But this was n

ime to take love; it was time to return i

full measure the love received.

I said to Sharmishtha, ‘It is late in th

night now. We can think more clearly

omorrow. In any case, I promise, tha

our Puroo will be restored to his olself. Go and sit with him. You have

given birth to a selfless son. You are

ruly the mother of a hero. Go an

comfort him.’

As soon as Sharmishtha’s back wa

urned I closed my eyes in meditation o

Maharishi Shukra. I kept saying, ‘I wiso return this borrowed youth to it

owner. In doing so, I am willing to

accept death.’ I repeated it twice.



started saying the words silently t

myself, with Sharmishtha’s back turned

o me. Suddenly I felt the room goin

round like a top. Simultaneously, I heardhe words, ‘Kacha has come.’

At that, I collapsed on the floor.

do not know how many days later

came round. It was probably evening

Someone was chanting in a sweet voiceThe chanting stopped. I could see

vague form approaching me. It put

mark of sacred ashes on my forehead.

peered at the figure and saw that it waKacha.

He did not say a word, just smiled. I

response, a faint smile must hav



appeared on my face. He smiled again

Truly, how sweetly communicative a

smile can be.

When I woke up again, it wa

morning. You could see the dawn in the

east. I lay quietly with my eyes closed

Someone was chanting hymns. I openemy eyes. Kacha was praying to the bal

of fire in the east.

could hear his prayers distinctly:Oh Sun God. Welcome to you. You

are the epitome of the power of the

soul over the senses. You haveconquered darkness. As much as

you are the soul of the universe; you

are also the soul of the spiritual

entity of man. Although your



charioteer maybe lame, you never

fail in your duty. Let your sacred

light penetrate our minds as it does

the caves and hollows of the world.There also wild beasts live. Oh you,

of the thousand rays, welcome to

you.

Morning and evening, Kacha woul

chant hymns like this. Even otherwise

when he visited me, it was his habit tchant hymns. But these hymns woul

ransport me to another world. There

flowers had no thorns to them and th

stones oozed fragrance.

Many hymns from Kacha’s recitatio

have come to be engraved on my mind:



The fragrance of flowers cannot be

seen but is felt by the nose. The

beauty of the soul is something like

that.

All kinds of passion are death. This

death is very different from the

ordinary one because in them thesoul itself perishes.

Oh eagle! Flying in the direction of

the high peaks, you know how deep

the valley on the other side is. Come

and tell man, blindly pursuing

transient pleasure, of that valley.

Bring him this nectar.Conscience, feeling and body: the

triple confluence of these constitutes

life. How can any one of them,



attain the sanctity of the three

together?

Do you wish to understand the grief

of the deer, which in pursuit runs till

it bleeds from the heart? Then

hunter let the deer be the hunter.

Give it your bow and arrows. Andyou? You be the deer.

Do you wish to know how to love?

Then make the river, the tree and the

mother your tutors.

The senses are never satisfied by

indulgence. As the fire blazes with

an offering, so do the senses getincensed the more by indulgence.

could recall a whole lot of hymns t



his effect. They were my friends in m

sick bed.

Gradually, the royal physicia

permitted me to talk a little. In thi

ntervening period, not only was I rebor

but apparently Devayani also. She ha

acquired considerable restraint and lovof service.

I tried to piece together the incident

from the time I collapsed to the floor tha

night. In my mind I tried to weave into

fabric the clues provided by Kacha

Sharmishtha, Devayani, Puroo and Yadu

That night with Maharishi Shukra imy mind I had said twice the word

which would return Puroo’s youth to

him. I had started on the third time bu



did not complete it. It was interrupted b

he words, ‘Kacha has come.’ I the

collapsed to the floor.

Kacha also had acquired by hi

penance a power as potent as that o

Maharishi Shukra. On the strength of

he restored Puroo’s youth to him.Only when talking about ascetics, thei

penance and the powers achieved b

hem would Kacha be very disturbed

Then he would say, ‘Your Majesty, man

s no beast, but at heart, man remain

much like the beast pursuing life by th

blind instinct of self preservationTalking ill of the preceptor is a sin, bu

concealing the truth is an even greate

sin. I must, therefore, talk a little abou



Maharishi Shukra. Seeing him falling

prey to anger at every step, who ca

guarantee that the superhuman power

achieved by man, after prolongepenance, by a man who has been unabl

o gain mastery over his passions, wil

always be used for the well-being oall? What sense is there to a life i

which, with the two sides equall

matched, strife continues? Is this how th

world is to go on? No, if man desirehappiness he must first conquer hi

passions.’

Kacha would talk thus. I would listen was distressed by his sincerity. I wa

convinced of the truth of his words. But

did not know how to comfort him.



On my sick bed, we two came eve

nearer. Immediately after his penance

on hearing of my degeneration he had se

out to come here. He had got Devayani’nvitation on the way. As soon as he

entered the town, he heard that I wa

staying at Ashokavan and came straigho me.

How timely his arrival was! My deat

was averted by his coming. Puroo go

back his youth. And I was saved from a

overwhelming sin!

That golden-haired girl ... Is

possible that in her last moments Alakhad prayed to God, saying that her desir

o serve Yayati had been left unfulfilled?

How could it have been ordained tha



she should return to Hastinapur to be m

daughter-in-law?

Sharmishtha also had come in the nic

of time. She had come to live in

village near Hastinapur, so as to keep i

ouch with news of Puroo on th

battlefield. She was afraid that Puromight also have been taken captive wit

Yadu. Hearing of Yadu’s return to the

capital, she and Alaka decided to com

o Hastinapur early in the morning; but i

he night when Sharmishtha woke up

Alaka was not there! She looked fo

Alaka all night in that village. Heavy aheart, she somehow reached Hastinapu

n the evening. She saw Puroo enterin

he town with Yadu. The crowds were



hailing Puroo as the saviour of Yadu and

Puroo received more cheers and greate

ovation than Yadu. Her heart was full

She wanted to see him at closer quarterbut did not succeed. Suddenly Puroo an

Yadu went away somewhere. Later an

old man told her, ‘They have both gono Ashokavan for an audience with th

Queen.’ She was terrified. Would

Devayani bless Puroo as the saviour o

her son’s life or would she avengherself on him as the son of a co-wife?

She did not know what to do to ensur

he safety of Puroo. She just ran foAshokavan. But it was only when I saw

Yati again, that I realised, that miracle

greater than the most miraculous d



happen.

Yati came on purpose to see me

knowing that I was ill in bed. I wanted t

get up to bow to him, but he would no

et me. He drew me in close embrace

The hard-hearted, harsh Yati that I had

met in the forest and this loving Yati —what a contrast it was. I wished Mothe

was here to witness this meeting of he

wo sons.

I said to Yati, ‘You are the elder

brother. This kingdom is yours. You

must take the throne.’

He smiled and said, ‘A deer skin is better place to sit on than a throne. Try i

and see.’ Yati had said it casually, bu

his words sank deep. They germinate



and grew into a big tree.

In life, I had gone the limit i

sensuality. It was only natural that

should now turn to renunciation.

resolved to renounce the household

Kacha agreed with me and it was n

wonder that Sharmishtha should followme into the jungle. What astounded m

was Devayani. She also resolved to g

with me.

That night I was just coming round

For a few moments, I was full

conscious. It first seemed as if Alak

was sitting by my bed. But I realised thnext moment that she was Devayani. Sh

was fanning me.

I looked down and there wa



Sharmishtha massaging my feet.

I pondered over this great change i

Devayani for a long time in bed. Kach

must have talked to her at length. But tha

was nothing new to her. In the end,

brought it up before Kacha. I asked hi

n jest the cause of this reformation iDevayani. Seeing that I believed him t

have worked the miracle, he said, ‘You

are wrong, Your Majesty. What I had

been striving for years happened tha

night; but not because of me but becaus

of Puroo.’

I said in astonishment, ‘How?’‘When Puroo took over your old age

ou gave him the kingdom in return. Bu

as soon as he got back his youth, he ra



o Devayani. He fell at her feet and said

“Mother, Yadu is my elder brother

Father has given me the kingdom. But

will not take it. I shall not take the thronnsulting Yadu. Let Yadu be king. I will

ake his orders. I swear by you mother.

swear by my mother Sharmishtha, I wanou as mother, I want Yadu as brother. I

do not want a kingdom. I want a mothe

and a brother.” ’

Devayani who had never befor

ielded to anyone or anything melted a

his love, affection and sacrifice o

Puroo. She hugged him and bathing hiwith tears said, ‘Puroo, as to who is t

ake the throne, that is for the king an

his subjects to decide. But you hav



oday given me something which i

beyond all kingdoms. A selfless warrio

ike you has made me his mother. Puroo

who taught you so much love? It woulhave been far better if I had been taugh

hat in my childhood. I am now going t

earn it from you. You gladly took oveour father’s old age. From love for you

brother, you were prepared to relinquis

our kingdom. Puroo, I want nothin

more than the strength to love like you.’

Puroo had relinquished his right to th

hrone, but the subjects to the last ma

wanted him to be king. Yadu’s defeahad lowered him in their estimation. Th

Dasyu rebellion to the north had to b

put down. It could only be done by



brave king. Devayani also bowed to th

wish of the people.

On the day of Puroo’s coronation w

retired to the jungle. Immediately afte

he ceremony, Kacha asked all three o

us, ‘Does any of you have any residua

wish?’ Devayani and Sharmishthmmediately said, ‘No.’ I however kep

quiet. Kacha said, ‘Your Majesty ...’

I said, ‘Now, I am not to be called

Your Majesty, but Yayati. We are

Yayati_ a Classic Tale of Lust - Khandekar, V S

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