SUDARSHANA.
No, I don’t.
SURANGAMA.
The large door has opened . . . he is coming; my King is coming in.
SUDARSHANA.
How can you perceive when he comes?
SURANGAMA.
I cannot say: I seem to hear his footsteps in my own heart. Being his servant of this dark chamber, I have developed a sense-I can know and feel without seeing.
SUDARSHANA.
Would that I had this sense too, Surangama!
SURANGAMA.
You will have it, O Queen . . . this sense will awaken in you one day. Your longing to have a sight of him makes you restless, and therefore all your mind is strained and warped in that direction. When you are past this state of feverish restlessness, everything will become quite easy.
SUDARSHANA.
How is it that it is easy to you, who are a servant, and so difficult to me, the Queen?
SURANGAMA.
It is because I am a mere servant that no difficulty baulks me. On the first day, when he left this room to my care, saying, “Surangama, you will always keep this chamber ready for me: this is all your task,” then I did not say, even in thought, “Oh, give me the work of those who keep the other rooms lighted.” No, but as soon as I bent all my mind to my task, a power woke and grew within me, and mastered every part of me unopposed. . . . Oh, there he comes! . . . he is standing outside, before the door. Lord! O King!
SONG outside.
Open your door. I am waiting.
The ferry of the light from the dawn to the dark is done for the day,
The evening star is up.
Have you gathered your flowers, braided your hair,
And donned your white robe for the night?
The cattle have come to their folds and birds to their nests.
The cross paths that run to all quarters have merged into one in the dark.
Open your door. I am waiting.