Madana
Tell me the story to the end. I am the heart-born god, and I
understand the mystery of these impulses.
Chitra
Only vaguely can I remember what things I said, and what answer I
got. Do not ask me to tell you all. Shame fell on me like a
thunderbolt, yet could not break me to pieces, so utterly hard,
so like a man am I. His last words as I walked home pricked my
ears like red hot needles. "I have taken the vow of celibacy. I
am not fit to be thy husband!" Oh, the vow of a man! Surely
thou knowest, thou god of love, that unnumbered saints and sages
have surrendered the merits of their life-long penance at the
feet of a woman. I broke my bow in two and burnt my arrows in
the fire. I hated my strong, lithe arm, scored by drawing the
bowstring. O Love, god Love, thou hast laid low in the dust the
vain pride of my manlike strength; and all my man's training lies
crushed under thy feet. Now teach me thy lessons; give me the
power of the weak and the weapon of the unarmed hand.
Madana
I will be thy friend. I will bring the world-conquering Arjuna a
captive before thee, to accept his rebellion's sentence at thy
hand.
Chitra
Had I but the time needed, I could win his heart by slow degrees,
and ask no help of the gods. I would stand by his side as a
comrade, drive the fierce horses of his war-chariot, attend him
in the pleasures of the chase, keep guard at night at the
entrance of his tent, and help him in all the great duties of a
Kshatriya, rescuing the weak, and meting out justice where it is
due. Surely at last the day would have come for him to look at
me and wonder, "What boy is this? Has one of my slaves in a
former life followed me like my good deeds into this?" I am not
the woman who nourishes her despair in lonely silence, feeding it
with nightly tears and covering it with the daily patient smile,
a widow from her birth. The flower of my desire shall never drop
into the dust before it has ripened to fruit. But it is the
labour of a life time to make one's true self known and honoured.
Therefore I have come to thy door, thou world-vanquishing Love,
and thou, Vasanta, youthful Lord of the Seasons, take from
my young body this primal injustice, an unattractive plainness.
For a single day make me superbly beautiful, even as beautiful as
was the sudden blooming of love in my heart. Give me but one
brief day of perfect beauty, and I will answer for the days that
follow.
Madana
Lady, I grant thy prayer.
Vasanta
Not for the short span of a day, but for one whole year the charm
of spring blossoms shall nestle round thy limbs.
SCENE II
Arjuna
WAS I dreaming or was what I saw by the lake truly there?
Sitting on the mossy turf, I mused over bygone years in the
sloping shadows of the evening, when slowly there came out from
the folding darkness of foliage an apparition of beauty in the
perfect form of a woman, and stood on a white slab of stone at
the water's brink. It seemed that the heart of the earth must
heave in joy under her bare white feet. Methought the vague
veilings of her body should melt in ecstasy into air as the
golden mist of dawn melts from off the snowy peak of the eastern
hill. She bowed herself above the shining mirror of the lake and
saw the reflection of her face. She started up in awe and stood
still; then smiled, and with a careless sweep of her left arm
unloosed her hair and let it trail on the earth at her feet. She
bared her bosom and looked at her arms, so flawlessly modelled,
and instinct with an exquisite caress. Bending her head she
saw the sweet blossoming of her youth and the tender bloom and
blush of her skin. She beamed with a glad surprise. So, if the
white lotus bud on opening her eyes in the morning were to arch
her neck and see her shadow in the water, would she wonder at
herself the livelong day. But a moment after the smile passed
from her face and a shade of sadness crept into her eyes. She
bound up her tresses, drew her veil over her arms, and sighing
slowly, walked away like a beauteous evening fading into the
night. To me the supreme fulfilment of desire seemed to have
been revealed in a flash and then to have vanished. . . . But who
is it that pushes the door?
Enter CHITRA, dressed as a woman.
Ah! it is she. Quiet, my heart! . . . Fear me not, lady! I am
a Kshatriya.