SHADES
Stop a few moments among us. The earth's tears still cling about you, like dew on freshly culled flowers. You have brought with you the mingled odours of meadow and forest; reminiscence of children, women, and comrades; something too of the ineffable music of the seasons.
SOMAKA
Master, why are you doomed to live in this muffled stagnant world?
RITVIK
I offered up your son in the sacrificial fire: that sin has lodged my soul in this obscurity.
SHADES
King, tell us the story, we implore you; the recital of crime can still bring life's fire into our torpor.
SOMAKA
I was named Somaka, the King of Videha. After sacrificing at innumerable shrines weary year on year, a son was born to my house in my old age, love for whom, like a sudden untimely flood, swept consideration for everything else from my life. He hid me completely, as a lotus hides its stem. The neglected duties of a king piled up in shame before my throne. One day, in my audience hall, I heard my child cry from his mother's room, and instantly rushed away, vacating my throne.