SUDARSHANA.
Your benedictions have given me Godspeed, and here I am, at last.
GRANDFATHER.
But do you see how ill-mannered our King is? He has sent no chariot, no music band, nothing splendid or grand.
SUDARSHANA.
Nothing grand, did you say? Look, the sky is rosy and crimson from end to end, the air is full of the welcome of the scent of flowers.
GRANDFATHER.
Yes, but however cruel our King may be, we cannot seek to emulate him: I cannot help feeling pain at seeing you in this state, my child. How can we bear to see you going to the King’s palace attired in this poor and wretched attire? Wait a little—I am running to fetch you your Queen’s garments.
SUDARSHANA.
Oh no, no, no! He has taken away those regal robes from me for ever—he has attired me in a servant’s dress before the eyes of the whole world: what a relief this has been to me! I am his servant now, no longer his Queen. To-day I stand at the feet of all those who can claim any relationship with him.
GRANDFATHER.
But your enemies will laugh at you now: how can you bear their derision?
SUDARSHANA.
Let their laughter and derision be immortal—let them throw dust at me in the streets: this dust will to-day be the powder with which I shall deck myself before meeting my lord.
GRANDFATHER.
After this, we shall say nothing. Now let us play the last game of our Spring Festival—instead of the pollen of flowers let the south breeze blow and scatter dust of lowliness in every direction! We shall go to the lord clad in the common grey of the dust. And we shall find him too covered with dust all over. For do you think the people spare him? Even he cannot escape from their soiled and dusty hands, and he does not even care to brush the dirt off his garments.
KANCHI.
Grandfather, do not forget me in this game of yours! I also will have to get this royal garment of mine soiled till it is beyond all recognition.
GRANDFATHER.
That will not take long, my brother. Now that you have come down so far—you will change your colour in no time. Just look at our Queen—she got into a temper with herself and thought that she could spoil her matchless beauty by flinging away all her ornaments: but this insult to her beauty has made it shine forth in tenfold radiance, and now it is in its unadorned perfection. We hear that our King is all innocent of beauty—that is why he loves all his manifold beauty of form which shines as the very ornament of his breast. And that beauty has to-day taken off its veil and cloak of pride and vanity! What could I not give to be allowed to hear the wonderful music and song that has filled my King’s palace to-day!