The Substance of a Dream

by F. W. Bain

XXI

And when I came back to myself, I looked, and saw an old man with a long white beard gazing at me with anxiety, sitting by my bed in which I was lying, having been brought home I know not how as I lay in a swoon. And when he saw me look at him, he began to rub his hands together, with a little laugh. And he said: Ha! then, as it seems, after all, thy soul has returned at last: and it was time. For it had been away so long that I was beginning to doubt whether it had not said good-bye to thy body, for good and all. And now it has come back after all, by the favour of Ganapati, and the help of the Ayurweda, and one of Dhanwantari's[30] most unworthy devotees. And I said slowly: How long have I been dead? Then said that old physician: It is now nearly sunset again, and thou hast lain there without moving ever since they brought thee here from the street, about the time of sunset, yesterday. And now what is it, that has struck thee down, as if by a thunderbolt? For how can the physician cure, unless the patient tells him of his case?

And I closed my eyes for a while, as if to rest: and after a while I said: O father, there is nothing to tell, to one of thy experience and skill: for since childhood, it happens to me, every now and then, to fall down and lie in a trance: and when once I come back, all is over, and I go on as before, till next time. And now there is nothing to be done, but for me to reward thee for thy care, to which I owe my life. And though it is a thing of little or no worth, I will count it, for thy sake, as if it were a thing of price. And I gave that old man gold, and sent him away delighted, for all I wanted was to be rid of him as quickly as I could, lest I should fall into a fever and begin to rave, and betray my secret against my will.

And then, for many days, I lay, living very slowly, like one in a long dream, drinking water, and eating almost nothing, and going over in my mind every detail of my life since first I saw the Queen. And it seemed to me, as I mused, as if I had died long ago; and everything appeared to me like something that had happened long ago, to some other than myself. And day very slowly followed day, and life came back to me as it were with hesitating steps, as though it knew that it was coming to one that scarcely cared to bid it welcome. And then at last there came a day when I looked about with curiosity to see what might be seen, and lo! there in a corner lay my lute upon the floor.

So, after a while, I said: Lute, canst thou tell me, how it feels to be discarded? And I went and took it up, and strung it, and began to play. And as fate would have it, there came over the strings as I touched them a sadness like my own, that seemed to say: Come, we are fellow-sufferers, and now let us weep together, since there is absolutely nothing else to do. And suddenly, the lute fell from my hands of its own accord, and I fell with it upon the floor. And I wept, as if my very soul was about to abandon my body, for sheer despair. And as I wept, I came slowly back to the self I was before; yet so, that the half of me was left behind, and lost for ever. And I said to myself: I have been robbed by Táráwalí of all that was worth anything in my soul, and it only remains to consider, what is the next thing to be done.

And that very evening, I went out of my house for the first time since I fell down. And avoiding the streets, I wandered along by bypaths, till I reached the river bank. And I hid myself in the bushes, and lay watching the sun go down across the river, and thinking of Táráwalí and her pool, till unawares I went to sleep. And how long I slept I know not, but I woke suddenly in the night, roused by the voices of two that were talking close beside me, not knowing there was anyone by, to overhear. And as I listened carelessly without curiosity, all at once there fell on my ear the name of Narasinha.

And instantly, I crawled, like a panther, little by little, nearer to those two talkers, until I could easily hear everything they said. And one was saying to the other: It will be very easy, and the reward is very large. Then the other said: But why does Narasinha want to have him slain at all? And the first voice answered: What a question! Anyone can see that thou art a stranger to this city. Dost thou not know that he is the lover of the Queen, aye! and so, that she is more than his life? And yet, for all that, he cannot keep her to himself, since she is not only a Queen, and above all his controlling, but also a lady of many lovers, roaming like a bee, from flower to flower, as she will, and yet leaving each in the lurch almost as soon as it is tasted, being as unsteady as the flame of a lamp in the wind, and as deep and as crooked as a river, amusing herself as if she were a female trinamani[31] by watching the irresistible effect of her own attraction on the straws that she finds and throws away, as soon as she has tested them, regardless of what afterwards becomes of them, since they are then absolutely useless, resembling mere husks, whose kernel she has eaten. And if he could bear to do without her, Narasinha would slay her out of jealousy with his own hands: but as it is, he cannot, however much she laughs in his face. And so he repays himself by wreaking his vengeance on her lovers, in lieu of herself: and one by one, they all pay the penalty of their presumption, in having anything to do with her, with their lives: giving him hard work to do, since she finds and casts off a new lover almost every day. And of all, the only one that has escaped is Shatrunjaya, the mad player, who lost his reason altogether when he found himself cast adrift without knowing why: and was accordingly passed over by Narasinha, as not even needing to be killed, since he was as good as dead already, and beyond the reach of revenge.

And the second voice said: What a fool must this Shatrunjaya have been, to go mad, over such an abhisariká as this Queen! Then said the first with emphasis: Thou art thyself the fool, speaking at random without ever having seen her: for she is a very Shrí, laughing all the other women to utter scorn; and small wonder that he fell a victim to such a spell, being as he is very young. And moreover, she is the cleverest woman in the three worlds, and easily persuades every lover that she is doing as he wishes to oblige him, and not as is really the case making him a puppet of her own. And not one of them all ever even knows of the existence of any other lover than himself. And Shatrunjaya is all the more to be excused, because she really took a momentary fancy to him, and cloyed him for a day or two with nectar that soon turned poison, as Chaturiká says.

And the second voice said: Who is Chaturiká? And the first replied: She is the niece of my cousin on the mother's side, and she tells me all. And Táráwalí took her for a confidential chetí on account of her cleverness and beauty: as well she might, since the little jade is very pretty, and clever enough to be prime minister to any king. And between the two of them, who are more than a match for any man that ever lived, Shatrunjaya had no chance at all. Little did he know Táráwalí, thinking to keep her beauty to himself, or confine the ocean of her charms to a tank! Poor fool! what a trick they played him! For Chaturiká says, that Táráwalí gave another lover the very rendezvous she fixed for him, bidding her pratihárí say she was gone. Well he might go mad, for as I think, any other man might lose his reason, to be kept standing outside the door, while his mistress was kissing another man!

And he laughed out loud, as he ended: but I rose up from the ground, drawing my kattárí from its sheath. And I leaped out of the bushes suddenly upon those two laughers, who took me for a ghost in the form of the god of death. And I struck at one with the knife, and as luck would have it, I all but severed his head from his body at a single sweep. And I turned upon the other as he stood terror-stricken, staring at me with open mouth, and I said: Thy jest was very good, but mine is better still. I am Shatrunjaya, and not mad after all: but thou shalt not tell my secret to Narasinha; whom I will send after thee in good time. And I struck the knife into his eye, so hard, that I could scarcely pull it out again by putting my foot upon his head.

And I left them lying, and went home quickly, laughing to myself, and saying: Now they are paid beforehand, with their work still to do, in coin very different from that of Narasinha. And his own turn will come, by and by. And I wonder whose life I have saved, for I never caught his name. But no matter: I have learned, what is left for me to do: and it only remains to determine on the way. Alas! Narasinha, thy star is beginning to decline. Thou hast just lost thy assassins, and presently I will deprive thee of Táráwalí, and last, I will rob thee of thy life.