Kaalidaasa - Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works
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Kaalidaasa >> Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works
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Until from this dear wife there springs
A son as great as former kings,
The seven islands of the earth
And all their gems, are nothing worth.
The final debt, most holy one,
Which still I owe to life--a son--
Galls me as galls the cutting chain
An elephant housed in dirt and pain.
Vasishtha tells the king that on a former occasion he had offended the
divine cow Fragrant, and had been cursed by the cow to lack children
until he had propitiated her own offspring. While the sage is
speaking, Fragrant's daughter approaches, and is entrusted to the care
of the king and queen.
_Second canto. The holy cow's gift_.--During twenty-one days the king
accompanies the cow during her wanderings in the forest, and each
night the queen welcomes their return to the hermitage. On the
twenty-second day the cow is attacked by a lion, and when the king
hastens to draw an arrow, his arm is magically numbed, so that he
stands helpless. To increase his horror, the lion speaks with a human
voice, saying that he is a servant of the god Shiva, set on guard
there and eating as his appointed food any animals that may appear.
Dilipa perceives that a struggle with earthly weapons is useless, and
begs the lion to accept his own body as the price of the cow's
release. The lion tries sophistry, using the old, hollow arguments:
Great beauty and fresh youth are yours; on earth
As sole, unrivalled emperor you rule;
Should you redeem a thing of little worth
At such a price, you would appear a fool.
If pity moves you, think that one mere cow
Would be the gainer, should you choose to die;
Live rather for the world! Remember how
The father-king can bid all dangers fly.
And if the fiery sage's wrath, aglow
At loss of one sole cow, should make you shudder,
Appease his anger; for you can bestow
Cows by the million, each with pot-like udder.
Save life and youth; for to the dead are given
No long, unbroken years of joyous mirth;
But riches and imperial power are heaven--
The gods have nothing that you lack on earth.
The lion spoke and ceased; but echo rolled
Forth from the caves wherein the sound was pent,
As if the hills applauded manifold,
Repeating once again the argument.
Dilipa has no trouble in piercing this sophistical argument, and again
offers his own life, begging the lion to spare the body of his fame
rather than the body of his flesh. The lion consents, but when the
king resolutely presents himself to be eaten, the illusion vanishes,
and the holy cow grants the king his desire. The king returns to his
capital with the queen, who shortly becomes pregnant.
_Third canto. Raghu's consecration_.--The queen gives birth to a
glorious boy, whom the joyful father names Raghu. There follows a
description of the happy family, of which a few stanzas are given
here:
The king drank pleasure from him late and soon
With eyes that stared like windless lotus-flowers;
Unselfish joy expanded all his powers
As swells the sea responsive to the moon.
The rooted love that filled each parent's soul
For the other, deep as bird's love for the mate,
Was now divided with the boy; and straight
The remaining half proved greater than the whole.
He learned the reverence that befits a boy;
Following the nurse's words, began to talk;
And clinging to her finger, learned to walk:
These childish lessons stretched his father's joy,
Who clasped the baby to his breast, and thrilled
To feel the nectar-touch upon his skin,
Half closed his eyes, the father's bliss to win
Which, more for long delay, his being filled.
The baby hair must needs be clipped; yet he
Retained two dangling locks, his cheeks to fret;
And down the river of the alphabet
He swam, with other boys, to learning's sea.
Religion's rites, and what good learning suits
A prince, he had from teachers old and wise;
Not theirs the pain of barren enterprise,
For effort spent on good material, fruits.
This happy childhood is followed by a youth equally happy. Raghu is
married and made crown prince. He is entrusted with the care of the
horse of sacrifice,[1] and when Indra, king of the gods, steals the
horse, Raghu fights him. He cannot overcome the king of heaven, yet he
acquits himself so creditably that he wins Indra's friendship. In
consequence of this proof of his manhood, the empire is bestowed upon
Raghu by his father, who retires with his queen to the forest, to
spend his last days and prepare for death.
_Fourth canto. Raghu conquers the world_.--The canto opens with
several stanzas descriptive of the glory of youthful King Raghu.
He manifested royal worth
By even justice toward the earth,
Beloved as is the southern breeze,
Too cool to burn, too warm to freeze.
The people loved his father, yet
For greater virtues could forget;
The beauty of the blossoms fair
Is lost when mango-fruits are there.
But the vassal kings are restless
For when they knew the king was gone
And power was wielded by his son,
The wrath of subject kings awoke,
Which had been damped in sullen smoke.
Raghu therefore determines to make a warlike progress through all
India. He marches eastward with his army from his capital Ayodhya (the
name is preserved in the modern Oudh) to the Bay of Bengal, then south
along the eastern shore of India to Cape Comorin, then north along the
western shore until he comes to the region drained by the Indus,
finally east through the tremendous Himalaya range into Assam, and
thence home. The various nations whom he encounters, Hindus, Persians,
Greeks, and White Huns, all submit either with or without fighting. On
his safe return, Raghu offers a great sacrifice and gives away all his
wealth.[2]
_Fifth canto. Aja goes wooing_.--While King Raghu is penniless, a
young sage comes to him, desiring a huge sum of money to give to the
teacher with whom he has just finished his education. The king,
unwilling that any suppliant should go away unsatisfied, prepares to
assail the god of wealth in his Himalayan stronghold, and the god,
rather than risk the combat, sends a rain of gold into the king's
treasury. This gold King Raghu bestows upon the sage, who gratefully
uses his spiritual power to cause a son to be born to his benefactor.
In course of time, the son is born and the name Aja is given to him.
We are here introduced to Prince Aja, who is a kind of secondary hero
in the poem, inferior only to his mighty grandson, Rama. To Aja are
devoted the remainder of this fifth canto and the following three
cantos; and these Aja-cantos are among the loveliest in the epic. When
the prince has grown into young manhood, he journeys to a neighbouring
court to participate in the marriage reception of Princess
Indumati.[3]
One evening he camps by a river, from which a wild elephant issues and
attacks his party. When wounded by Aja, the elephant strangely changes
his form, becoming a demigod, gives the prince a magic weapon, and
departs to heaven. Aja proceeds without further adventure to the
country and the palace of Princess Indumati, where he is made welcome
and luxuriously lodged for the night. In the morning, he is awakened
by the song of the court poets outside his chamber. He rises and
betakes himself to the hall where the suitors are gathering.
_Sixth canto. The princess chooses_.--The princely suitors assemble in
the hall; then, to the sound of music, the princess enters in a
litter, robed as a bride, and creates a profound sensation.
For when they saw God's masterpiece, the maid
Who smote their eyes to other objects blind,
Their glances, wishes, hearts, in homage paid,
Flew forth to her; mere flesh remained behind.
The princes could not but betray their yearning
By sending messengers, their love to bring,
In many a quick, involuntary turning,
As flowering twigs of trees announce the spring.
Then a maid-servant conducts the princess from one suitor to another,
and explains the claim which each has upon her affection. First is
presented the King of Magadha, recommended in four stanzas, one of
which runs:
Though other kings by thousands numbered be,
He seems the one, sole governor of earth;
Stars, constellations, planets, fade and flee
When to the moon the night has given birth.
But the princess is not attracted.
The slender maiden glanced at him; she glanced
And uttered not a word, nor heeded how
The grass-twined blossoms of her garland danced
When she dismissed him with a formal bow.
They pass to the next candidate, the king of the Anga country, in
whose behalf this, and more, is said:
Learning and wealth by nature are at strife,
Yet dwell at peace in him; and for the two
You would be fit companion as his wife,
Like wealth enticing, and like learning true.
Him too the princess rejects, "not that he was unworthy of love, or
she lacking in discernment, but tastes differ." She is then conducted
to the King of Avanti:
And if this youthful prince your fancy pleases,
Bewitching maiden, you and he may play
In those unmeasured gardens that the breezes
From Sipra's billows ruffle, cool with spray.
The inducement is insufficient, and a new candidate is presented, the
King of Anupa,
A prince whose fathers' glories cannot fade,
By whom the love of learned men is wooed,
Who proves that Fortune is no fickle jade
When he she chooses is not fickly good.
But alas!
She saw that he was brave to look upon,
Yet could not feel his love would make her gay;
Full moons of autumn nights, when clouds are gone,
Tempt not the lotus-flowers that bloom by day.
The King of Shurasena has no better fortune, in spite of his virtues
and his wealth. As a river hurrying to the sea passes by a mountain
that would detain her, so the princess passes him by. She is next
introduced to the king of the Kalinga country;
His palace overlooks the ocean dark
With windows gazing on the unresting deep,
Whose gentle thunders drown the drums that mark
The hours of night, and wake him from his sleep.
But the maiden can no more feel at home with him than the goddess of
fortune can with a good but unlucky man. She therefore turns her
attention to the king of the Pandya country in far southern India. But
she is unmoved by hearing of the magic charm of the south, and rejects
him too.
And every prince rejected while she sought
A husband, darkly frowned, as turrets, bright
One moment with the flame from torches caught,
Frown gloomily again and sink in night.
The princess then approaches Aja, who trembles lest she pass him by,
as she has passed by the other suitors. The maid who accompanies
Indumati sees that Aja awakens a deeper feeling, and she therefore
gives a longer account of his kingly line, ending with the
recommendation:
High lineage is his, fresh beauty, youth,
And virtue shaped in kingly breeding's mould;
Choose him, for he is worth your love; in truth,
A gem is ever fitly set in gold.
The princess looks lovingly at the handsome youth, but cannot speak
for modesty. She is made to understand her own feelings when the maid
invites her to pass on to the next candidate. Then the wreath is
placed round Aja's neck, the people of the city shout their approval,
and the disappointed suitors feel like night-blooming lotuses at
daybreak.
_Seventh canto. Aja's marriage_.--While the suitors retire to the
camps where they have left their retainers, Aja conducts Indumati into
the decorated and festive city. The windows are filled with the faces
of eager and excited women, who admire the beauty of the young prince
and the wisdom of the princess's choice. When the marriage ceremony
has been happily celebrated, the disappointed suitors say farewell
with pleasant faces and jealous hearts, like peaceful pools concealing
crocodiles. They lie in ambush on the road which he must take, and
when he passes with his young bride, they fall upon him. Aja provides
for the safety of Indumati, marshals his attendants, and greatly
distinguishes himself in the battle which follows. Finally he uses the
magic weapon, given him by the demigod, to benumb his adversaries, and
leaving them in this helpless condition, returns home. He and his
young bride are joyfully welcomed by King Raghu, who resigns the
kingdom in favour of Aja.
_Eighth canto. Aja's lament_.--As soon as King Aja is firmly
established on his throne, Raghu retires to a hermitage to prepare for
the death of his mortal part. After some years of religious meditation
he is released, attaining union with the eternal spirit which is
beyond all darkness. His obsequies are performed by his dutiful son.
Indumati gives birth to a splendid boy, who is named Dasharatha. One
day, as the queen is playing with her husband in the garden, a wreath
of magic flowers falls upon her from heaven, and she dies. The
stricken king clasps the body of his dead beloved, and laments over
her.
If flowers that hardly touch the body, slay it,
The simplest instruments of fate may bring
Destruction, and we have no power to stay it;
Then must we live in fear of everything?
No! Death was right. He spared the sterner anguish;
Through gentle flowers your gentle life was lost
As I have seen the lotus fade and languish
When smitten by the slow and silent frost.
Yet God is hard. With unforgiving rigour
He forged a bolt to crush this heart of mine;
He left the sturdy tree its living vigour,
But stripped away and slew the clinging vine.
Through all the years, dear, you would not reprove me,
Though I offended. Can you go away
Sudden, without a word? I know you love me,
And I have not offended you to-day.
You surely thought me faithless, to be banished
As light-of-love and gambler, from your life,
Because without a farewell word, you vanished
And never will return, sweet-smiling wife.
The warmth and blush that followed after kisses
Is still upon her face, to madden me;
For life is gone, 'tis only life she misses.
A curse upon such life's uncertainty!
I never wronged you with a thought unspoken,
Still less with actions. Whither are you flown?
Though king in name, I am a man heartbroken,
For power and love took root in you alone.
Your bee-black hair from which the flowers are peeping,
Dear, wavy hair that I have loved so well,
Stirs in the wind until I think you sleeping,
Soon to return and make my glad heart swell.
Awake, my love! Let only life be given,
And choking griefs that stifle now, will flee
As darkness from the mountain-cave is driven
By magic herbs that glitter brilliantly.
The silent face, round which the curls are keeping
Their scattered watch, is sad to look upon
As in the night some lonely lily, sleeping
When musically humming bees are gone.
The girdle that from girlhood has befriended
You, in love-secrets wise, discreet, and true,
No longer tinkles, now your dance is ended,
Faithful in life, in dying faithful too.
Your low, sweet voice to nightingales was given;
Your idly graceful movement to the swans;
Your grace to fluttering vines, dear wife in heaven;
Your trustful, wide-eyed glances to the fawns:
You left your charms on earth, that I, reminded
By them, might be consoled though you depart;
But vainly! Far from you, by sorrow blinded,
I find no prop of comfort for my heart.
Remember how you planned to make a wedding,
Giving the vine-bride to her mango-tree;
Before that happy day, dear, you are treading
The path with no return. It should not be.
And this ashoka-tree that you have tended
With eager longing for the blossoms red--
How can I twine the flowers that should have blended
With living curls, in garlands for the dead?
The tree remembers how the anklets, tinkling
On graceful feet, delighted other years;
Sad now he droops, your form with sorrow sprinkling,
And sheds his blossoms in a rain of tears.
Joy's sun is down, all love is fallen and perished,
The song of life is sung, the spring is dead,
Gone is the use of gems that once you cherished,
And empty, ever empty, is my bed.
You were my comrade gay, my home, my treasure,
You were my bosom's friend, in all things true,
My best-loved pupil in the arts of pleasure:
Stern death took all I had in taking you.
Still am I king, and rich in kingly fashion,
Yet lacking you, am poor the long years through;
I cannot now be won to any passion,
For all my passions centred, dear, in you.
Aja commits the body of his beloved queen to the flames. A holy hermit
comes to tell the king that his wife had been a nymph of heaven in a
former existence, and that she has now returned to her home. But Aja
cannot be comforted. He lives eight weary years for the sake of his
young son, then is reunited with his queen in Paradise.
_Ninth canto. The hunt_.--This canto introduces us to King Dasharatha,
father of the heroic Rama. It begins with an elaborate description of
his glory, justice, prowess, and piety; then tells of the three
princesses who became his wives: Kausalya, Kaikeyi, and Sumitra. In
the beautiful springtime he takes an extended hunting-trip in the
forest, during which an accident happens, big with fate.
He left his soldiers far behind one day
In the wood, and following where deer-tracks lay,
Came with his weary horse adrip with foam
To river-banks where hermits made their home.
And in the stream he heard the water fill
A jar; he heard it ripple clear and shrill,
And shot an arrow, thinking he had found
A trumpeting elephant, toward the gurgling sound.
Such actions are forbidden to a king,
Yet Dasharatha sinned and did this thing;
For even the wise and learned man is minded
To go astray, by selfish passion blinded.
He heard the startling cry, "My father!" rise
Among the reeds; rode up; before his eyes
He saw the jar, the wounded hermit boy:
Remorse transfixed his heart and killed his joy.
He left his horse, this monarch famous far,
Asked him who drooped upon the water-jar
His name, and from the stumbling accents knew
A hermit youth, of lowly birth but true.
The arrow still undrawn, the monarch bore
Him to his parents who, afflicted sore
With blindness, could not see their only son
Dying, and told them what his hand had done.
The murderer then obeyed their sad behest
And drew the fixed arrow from his breast;
The boy lay dead; the father cursed the king,
With tear-stained hands, to equal suffering.
"In sorrow for your son you too shall die,
An old, old man," he said, "as sad as I."
Poor, trodden snake! He used his venomous sting,
Then heard the answer of the guilty king:
"Your curse is half a blessing if I see
The longed-for son who shall be born to me:
The scorching fire that sweeps the well-ploughed field,
May burn indeed, but stimulates the yield.
The deed is done; what kindly act can I
Perform who, pitiless, deserve to die?"
"Bring wood," he begged, "and build a funeral pyre,
That we may seek our son through death by fire."
The king fulfilled their wish; and while they burned,
In mute, sin-stricken sorrow he returned,
Hiding death's seed within him, as the sea
Hides magic fire that burns eternally.
Thus is foreshadowed in the birth of Rama, his banishment, and the
death of his father.
Cantos ten to fifteen form the kernel of the epic, for they tell the
story of Rama, the mighty hero of Raghu's line. In these cantos
Kalidasa attempts to present anew, with all the literary devices of a
more sophisticated age, the famous old epic story sung in masterly
fashion by the author of the _Ramayana_. As the poet is treading
ground familiar to all who hear him, the action of these cantos is
very compressed.
_Tenth canto. The incarnation of Rama_.--While Dasharatha, desiring a
son, is childless, the gods, oppressed by a giant adversary, betake
themselves to Vishnu, seeking aid. They sing a hymn of praise, a part
of which is given here.
O thou who didst create this All,
Who dost preserve it, lest it fall,
Who wilt destroy it and its ways--
To thee, O triune Lord, be praise.
As into heaven's water run
The tastes of earth--yet it is one,
So thou art all the things that range
The universe, yet dost not change.
Far, far removed, yet ever near;
Untouched by passion, yet austere;
Sinless, yet pitiful of heart;
Ancient, yet free from age--Thou art.
Though uncreate, thou seekest birth;
Dreaming, thou watchest heaven and earth;
Passionless, smitest low thy foes;
Who knows thy nature, Lord? Who knows?
Though many different paths, O Lord,
May lead us to some great reward,
They gather and are merged in thee
Like floods of Ganges in the sea.
The saints who give thee every thought,
Whose every act for thee is wrought,
Yearn for thine everlasting peace,
For bliss with thee, that cannot cease.
Like pearls that grow in ocean's night,
Like sunbeams radiantly bright,
Thy strange and wonder-working ways
Defeat extravagance of praise.
If songs that to thy glory tend
Should weary grow or take an end,
Our impotence must bear the blame,
And not thine unexhausted name.
Vishnu is gratified by the praise of the gods, and asks their desire.
They inform him that they are distressed by Ravana, the giant king of
Lanka (Ceylon), whom they cannot conquer. Vishnu promises to aid them
by descending to earth in a new avatar, as son of Dasharatha. Shortly
afterwards, an angel appears before King Dasharatha, bringing in a
golden bowl a substance which contains the essence of Vishnu. The king
gives it to his three wives, who thereupon conceive and dream
wonderful dreams. Then Queen Kausalya gives birth to Rama; Queen
Kaikeyi to Bharata; Queen Sumitra to twins, Lakshmana and Shatrughna.
Heaven and earth rejoice. The four princes grow up in mutual
friendship, yet Rama and Lakshmana are peculiarly drawn to each other,
as are Bharata and Shatrughna. So beautiful and so modest are the four
boys that they seem like incarnations of the four things worth living
for--virtue, money, love, and salvation.
_Eleventh canto. The victory over Rama-with-the-axe_.--At the request
of the holy hermit Vishvamitra, the two youths Rama and Lakshmana
visit his hermitage, to protect it from evil spirits. The two lads
little suspect, on their maiden journey, how much of their lives will
be spent in wandering together in the forest. On the way they are
attacked by a giantess, whom Rama kills; the first of many giants who
are to fall at his hand. He is given magic weapons by the hermit, with
which he and his brother kill other giants, freeing the hermitage from
all annoyance. The two brothers then travel with the hermit to the
city of Mithila, attracted thither by hearing of its king, his
wonderful daughter, and his wonderful bow. The bow was given him by
the god Shiva; no man has been able to bend it; and the beautiful
princess's hand is the prize of any man who can perform the feat. On
the way thither, Rama brings to life Ahalya, a woman who in a former
age had been changed to stone for unfaithfulness to her austere
husband, and had been condemned to remain a stone until trodden by
Rama's foot. Without further adventure, they reach Mithila, where the
hermit presents Rama as a candidate for the bending of the bow.
The king beheld the boy, with beauty blest
And famous lineage; he sadly thought
How hard it was to bend the bow, distressed
Because his child must be so dearly bought.
He said: "O holy one, a mighty deed
That full-grown elephants with greatest pain
Could hardly be successful in, we need
Not ask of elephant-cubs. It would be vain.
For many splendid kings of valorous name,
Bearing the scars of many a hard-fought day,
Have tried and failed; then, covered with their shame,
Have shrugged their shoulders, cursed, and strode away."
Yet when the bow is given to the youthful Rama, he not only bends, but
breaks it. He is immediately rewarded with the hand of the Princess
Sita, while Lakshmana marries her sister. On their journey home with
their young brides, dreadful portents appear, followed by their cause,
a strange being called Rama-with-the-axe, who is carefully to be
distinguished from Prince Rama. This Rama-with-the-axe is a Brahman
who has sworn to exterminate the entire warrior caste, and who
naturally attacks the valorous prince. He makes light of Rama's
achievement in breaking Shiva's bow, and challenges him to bend the
mightier bow which he carries. This the prince succeeds in doing, and
Rama-with-the-axe disappears, shamed and defeated. The marriage party
then continues its journey to Ayodhya.
_Twelfth canto. The killing of Ravana_.--King Dasharatha prepares to
anoint Rama crown prince, when Queen Kaikeyi interposes. On an earlier
occasion she had rendered the king a service and received his promise
that he would grant her two boons, whatever she desired. She now
demands her two boons: the banishment of Rama for fourteen years, and
the anointing of her own son Bharata as crown prince. Rama thereupon
sets out for the Dandaka forest in Southern India, accompanied by his
faithful wife Sita and his devoted brother Lakshmana. The stricken
father dies of grief, thus fulfilling the hermit's curse. Now Prince
Bharata proves himself more generous than his mother; he refuses the
kingdom, and is with great difficulty persuaded by Rama himself to act
as regent during the fourteen years. Even so, he refuses to enter the
capital city, dwelling in a village outside the walls, and preserving
Rama's slippers as a symbol of the rightful king. Meanwhile Rama's
little party penetrates the wild forests of the south, fighting as
need arises with the giants there. Unfortunately, a giantess falls in
love with Rama, and
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