The Kadambari of Bana

[Dark Saint Alaick]

'Or what could there be harder to tell than this very thing, which
is supposed to be impossible to hear or say? I will at least briefly
tell the marvel that followed on that thunderbolt, and I will tell,
too, what came as a tiny dim cause of my prolonging my life, which by
its mirage so deludes me that I bear about a hated body, almost dead,
alien to me, burdensome, unfitted to my needs, and thankless for my
care. That shall suffice. Afterwards, in a sudden change [285] of
feeling, with resolve firmly set on death, lamenting bitterly, I cried
to Taralika: "Rise, cruel-hearted girl; how long wilt thou weep? Bring
together wood and make a pile. I will follow the lord of my life."

(332) '"'Straightway a being swiftly left the moon's orb and descended
from the sky. Behind him he trailed a silken vesture hanging from
his crest, white as the foam of nectar, and waving in the wind;
his cheeks were reddened with the bright gems that swayed in his
ears; on his breast he bore a radiant necklace, from the size of its
pearls like a cluster of stars; his turban was tied with strips of
white silk; his head was thick with curling locks, and dark as bees;
his earring was an open moon lotus; on his shoulder was the impress
of the saffron lines that adorned his wives; he was white as a moon
lotus, lofty in stature, endowed with all the marks of greatness, and
godlike in form; he seemed to purify space by the light shed round him
clear as pure water, and to anoint it as by a thick frost with a dewy
ambrosial shower that created a chill as he shed it from his limbs,
cool and fragrant, and to besprinkle it with a rich store of goçirsha
[286] sandal-juice.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

'With arms sturdy as the trunk of Airavata, and fingers white as
lotus-fibres and cool to the touch, he lifted my dead lord, (333)
and, in a voice deep as a drum, he said to me: "Mahaçveta, my child,
thou must not die; for thou shalt again be united with him!" And with
these words, tender as a father's, he flew into the sky with Pundarika.

'"'But this sudden event filled me with fear, dismay, and eager
anxiety, and with upraised face I asked Kapiñjala what it might
mean. He, however, started up hastily without replying, and with the
cry, "Monster, whither goest thou with my friend?" with uplifted eyes
and sudden wrath he hastily girt up his loins, and following him in
his flight, in hot pursuit he rose into the sky; and while I yet gazed
they all entered amongst the stars. But the departure of Kapiñjala was
to me like a second death of my beloved, and it redoubled my grief,
so that my heart was rent asunder. Bewildered what to do, I cried
to Taralika: "Knowest thou not? Tell me what this means!" But she,
with all a woman's timidity at the sight, was at that very moment
trembling in all her limbs, overcome by a fear stronger than her grief,
and was frightened, moreover, by the dread of my death; and so with
downcast heart she piteously replied: "Princess, wretch that I am,
I know not! Yet this is a great miracle. The man is of no mortal
mould, and thou wert pityingly comforted by him in his flight as by a
father. Such godlike beings are not wont to deceive us, even in sleep,
much less face to face; and when I think it over I cannot see the
least cause for his speaking falsely. (334) It is meet, therefore,
that thou shouldst weigh it, and restrain thy longing for death. In
thy present state it is in truth a great ground for comfort. Moreover,
Kapiñjala has gone in pursuit of Pundarika. From him thou canst learn
whence and who this being is, and why Pundarika on his death was by
him raised and carried off, and whither he is carried, and wherefore
thou wert consoled by him with the boon of a hope of reunion that
exceeds thought; then thou canst devote thyself either to life or
death. For when death is resolved upon, it is easy to compass. But
this can wait; for Kapiñjala, if he lives, will certainly not rest
without seeing thee; therefore let thy life be preserved till his
return." Thus saying, she fell at my feet. And I, from the thirst
for life that mortals find so hard to overcome, and from the weakness
of woman's nature, and from the illusion his words had created, and
from my anxiety for Kapiñjala's return, thought that that plan was
best for the time, and did not die. For what will not hope achieve?

[Dark Saint Alaick]

'That night I spent in Taralika's company on the bank of the lake. To
my wretchedness it was like a night of doom, [287] drawn out to a
thousand years, all torment, all grief, all hell, all fire. (335)
Sleep was rooted out, and I tossed on the ground; my face was hidden
by the loosened and dishevelled tresses that clung to my cheeks,
wet with tears and gray with dust, and my throat was weak, for my
voice failed, broken with piteous weeping.

'"'At dawn I arose and bathed in the lake, and having formed my
resolve, I took, for love of Pundarika, his pitcher and his bark
garments and his rosary; for I clearly knew the worthlessness of the
world. I perceived my own lack of merit; I pictured to myself the
remediless cruelty of the blows of fate; I pondered the inevitableness
of grief; I beheld the harshness of destiny; I meditated the course
of love, rich in sorrow; I learnt the inconstancy of earthly things;
I considered the frailness of all joys. Father and mother were
disregarded; kinsfolk and followers abandoned; the joys of earth were
banished from my mind; the senses held in firm restraint.

'"'I took the ascetic vow, and sought the protection of Çiva, lord
of the three worlds and helper of the helpless. Next day my father
came, having somehow learnt my story, bringing with him my mother and
kinsfolk. Long he wept, and strove with all his might and by every
means--prayers, admonitions, and tender words of every kind--to lead
me home. (336) And when he understood my firm resolve, and knew that I
could not be turned from that infatuation, he could not, even though
without hope, part with his love for his child; and though I often
bade him go, he stayed for some days, and went home at length full
of grief, and with his heart hot within him.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

'After his going, it was only by empty tears that I could show
my gratitude to my lord; by many a penance I wasted my hated body,
worn away by love of him, rich in ill, devoid of shame, ill-omened,
and the home of a thousand tortures of grief; I lived but on water
and the roots and fruits of the wood; under the guise of telling
my beads I counted his virtues; thrice a day I bathed in the lake;
I daily worshipped Çiva, and in this cell I dwelt with Taralika,
tasting the bitterness of a long grief. Such am I, evil, ill-omened,
shameless, cruel, cold, murderous, contemptible, useless, fruitless,
helpless, and joyless. (337) Why should one so noble as thou deign
to look on or speak with me, the doer of that monstrous crime, the
slaughter of a Brahman?' Thus saying, she covered her face with the
white edge of her bark garment, as if veiling the moon with a fleck
of autumn cloud, and, unable to quell the irresistible torrent of
her tears, she gave way to her sobs, and began to weep loud and long.

'"From the very first Candrapida had been filled with reverence
by her beauty, modesty, and courtesy; by the charm of her speech,
her unselfishness and her austerity; and by her serenity, humility,
dignity, and purity. But now he was carried away both by the story of
her life, which showed her noble character, and by her devoted spirit,
and a fresh tenderness arose in him. With softened heart he gently
said: 'Lady, those may weep who fear pain, and are devoid of gratitude,
and love pleasure, for they are unable to do anything worthy of love,
and show their affection merely by vain tears. But thou who hast
done all rightly, what duty of love hast thou left undone, that thou
weepest? For Pundarika's sake, thy kinsfolk who from thy birth have
been around thee, dear as they were, have been forsaken as if they
were strangers. (338) Earthly pleasures, though at thy feet, have
been despised and reckoned light as grass.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

The joys of power, though
their riches excelled the empire of Indra, have been resigned. Thy
form has been emaciated by dread penances, even though by nature it
was slender as a lotus-stalk. Thou hast taken the ascetic vow. Thy
soul has been devoted to great penance. Thou hast dwelt in the woods,
hard though it be for a woman. Moreover, life is easily resigned by
those whom sorrow has overwhelmed, but it needs a greater effort not
to throw away life in heavy grief. This following another to death is
most vain! It is a path followed by the ignorant! It is a mere freak
of madness, a path of ignorance, an enterprise of recklessness, a view
of baseness, a sign of utter thoughtlessness, and a blunder of folly,
that one should resign life on the death of father, brother, friend,
or husband. If life leaves us not of itself, we must not resign
it. For this leaving of life, if we examine it, is merely for our
own interest, because we cannot bear our own cureless pain. To the
dead man it brings no good whatever. For it is no means of bringing
him back to life, or heaping up merit, or gaining heaven for him,
or saving him from hell, or seeing him again, or being reunited with
him. (339) For he is led helplessly, irresistibly to another state
meet for the fruits of his own deeds. And yet he shares in the guilt
of the friend who has killed himself. But a man who lives on can help
greatly, by offerings of water and the like, both the dead man and
himself; but by dying he helps neither. Remember how Rati, the sole
and beloved wife of Love, when her noble husband, who won the hearts
of all women, was burnt up by the fire of Çiva, yet did not yield
her life; and remember also Kunti, of the race of Vrishni, daughter
of Surasena, for her lord was Pandu the wise; his seat was perfumed
by the flowers in the crests of all the kings whom he had conquered
without an effort, and he received the tribute of the whole earth,
and yet when he was consumed by Kindama's curse she still remained
alive. Uttara, too, the young daughter of Virata, on the death of
Abhimanyu, gentle and heroic, and joyful to the eyes as the young
moon, yet lived on. And Duhçalya, too, daughter of Dhritarashtra,
tenderly cared for by her hundred brothers; when Jayadratha, king of
Sindhu, was slain by Arjuna, fair as he was and great as he had become
by Çiva's [288] gift, yet made no resignation of her life. (340)
And others are told of by thousands, daughters of Rakshasas, gods,
demons, ascetics, mortals, siddhas and Gandharvas, who when bereft
of their husbands yet preserved their lives. Still, where reunion
is doubtful, life might be yielded. But for thee, thou hast heard
from that great being a promise of reunion.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

What doubt can there be
in a matter of thine own experience, and how could falsehood find
a place in the words of such noble truth-speaking saints, even when
there might be greater cause? And what union could there be between
the dead and the living? Therefore of a surety that wondrous being
was filled with pity and carried away Pundarika to heaven solely
to bring him back to life. For the power of great men transcends
thought. Life has many aspects. Destiny is manifold. Those skilled in
penance are fitted for wondrous miracles. Many are the forms of power
gained by previous actions. Moreover, however subtly we may consider
the matter, what other cause can we imagine for Pundarika's being
taken away, but the gift of fresh life. And this, thou must know,
is not impossible. It is a path often trodden. (341) For Pramadvara,
daughter of Viçvavasu, king of the Gandharvas and Menaka, lost her
life through a poisonous snake at the hermitage of Sthulakeça, and
the young ascetic Ruru, son of Pramati and grandson of the Bhrigu
Cyavana, provided her with half his own life. And when Arjuna was
following the Açvamedha steed, he was pierced in the van of the
battle by an arrow from his own son Babhruvahana, and a Naga maiden,
Ulupa, brought him back to life. When Parikshit, Abhimanyu's son,
was consumed by Açvatthama's fiery dart, though he had already died
at birth, Krishna, filled with pity by Uttara's lament, restored
his precious life. And at Ujjayini, he whose steps are honoured
by the three worlds, carried off from the city of death the son of
Sandipani the Brahman, and brought him back. [289] And in thy case,
too, the same will somehow come to pass. For by thy present grief,
what is effected or what won? Fate is all-powerful. Destiny is
strong. We cannot even draw a breath at our own will. The freaks of
that accursed and most harsh destiny are exceeding cruel. A love fair
in its sincerity is not allowed long to endure; for joys are wont to
be in their essence frail and unlasting, while sorrows by their nature
are long-lived. (342) For how hardly are mortals united in one life,
while in a thousand lives they are separated. Thou canst not surely
then blame thyself, all undeserving of blame. For these things often
happen to those who enter the tangled path of transmigration, and it
is the brave who conquer misfortune.' With such gentle and soothing
words he consoled her, and made her, albeit reluctantly, bathe her
face with water brought in his joined hands from the cascade.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Straightway the sun began to sink, as if he were leaving the day's
duties from grief at hearing Mahaçveta's story. Then day faded away;
the sun hung shining red as the pollen of a cluster of priyangu in full
blossom; the quarters of space were losing the glow of sunset soft
as silk dyed in the juice of many lotuses; (343) the sky was tinged
with red, glowing like the pupils of a partridge, [290] while its
blue was hidden; twilight was reddening and lighting up the earth,
tawny as a pigeon's eye; the clusters of stars shone forth, vying
with each other; the darkness of night was deepening into black,
and stealing away the broad path of the stars with its form dark as a
forest buffalo; the woodland avenues seemed massed together as their
green was hidden by deep gloom; the wind wandered cooled by night-dew,
with its path tracked by the perfume of the wild flowers as it stirred
the tangle of trees and creepers; and when night had its birds all
still in sleep Mahaçveta slowly rose, and saying her evening prayers,
washed her feet with water from the pitcher and sat down with a hot,
sorrowful sigh on her bark couch.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

Candrapida, too, rose and poured a
libation of water strewn with flowers, said his evening prayer, and
made a couch on the other rock with soft creeper boughs. As he rested
upon it he went over Mahaçveta's story again in his mind. 'This evil
Love,' thought he, 'has a power hard alike to cure and to endure. For
even great men, when overcome by him, regard not the course of time,
but suddenly lose all courage and surrender life. Yet all hail to
Love, whose rule is honoured throughout the three worlds!' (344)
And again he asked her: 'She that was thy handmaiden, thy friend in
the resolve to dwell in the woods, and the sharer of the ascetic vow
taken in thy sorrow--Taralika, where is she?' 'Noble sir,' she replied,
'from the race of Apsarases sprung from ambrosia of which I told you,
there was born a fair-eyed daughter named Madira, [291] who married
King Citraratha, the king whose footstool was formed of the buds in
the crests of all the Gandharvas. Charmed by her countless virtues,
he showed his favour by giving her the title of Chief Queen, bearing
with it cowrie, sceptre and umbrella, marked by a golden throne,
and placing all the zenana below her--a woman's rarest glory! And,
as they pursued together the joys of youth in their utter devotion
to each other, a priceless daughter was in due time born to them,
by name Kadambari, most wondrous, the very life of her parents, and
of the whole Gandharva race, and even of all living beings. From her
birth she was the friend of my childhood, and shared with me seat,
couch, meat and drink; on her my deepest love was set, and she was
the home of all my confidence, and like my other heart.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

Together we learnt to dance and sing, and our childhood
passed away free from restraint in the sports that
belong to it. (345) From sorrow at my unhappy story
she made a resolve that she would in nowise accept a
husband while I was still in grief, and before her girl friends she
took an oath, saying: "If my father should in anywise or at any time
wish to marry me against my will and by force, I will end my life
by hunger, fire, cord, or poison." Citraratha himself heard all the
resolution of his daughter, spoken of positively in the repeated
gossip of her attendants, and as time went on, seeing that she was
growing to full youth, he became prey to great vexation, and for a
time took pleasure in nothing, and yet, as she was his only child and
he dearly loved her, he could say nothing to her, though he saw no
other resource. But as he deemed the time now ripe, he considered the
matter with Queen Madira, and sent the herald Kshiroda to me at early
dawn with the message: "Dear Mahaçveta, our hearts were already burnt
up by thy sad fate, and now this new thing has come upon us. To thee
we look to win back Kadambari." Thereupon, in reverence to the words
of one so respected, and in love to my friend, I sent Taralika with
Kshiroda to bid Kadambari not add grief to one already sad enough;
(346) for if she wished me to live she must fulfil her father's words;
and ere Taralika had been long gone, thou, noble sir, camest to this
spot.' So saying she was silent.