Now as the daughter of Satrajit laid her head on her pillow, previously covering it with her veil, Janardanna thought "This is my opportunity (for effecting an entrance into her room)" (12). Then by (manual) signs commanding the handmaids not to announce his presence, he approached Satyabhama with faltering steps (13). Taking up the fan and standing by her side, he then began to fan slowly and laugh gently (14). That illustrious one (Hari), then perfumed in consequence of his contact with the Pārijāta flower, diffused there a divine, super-natural and rare fragrance (15). Smelling that wondrous fragrance, and taken with admiration, Satyā uncovered her face, and said "What is this?" (16) Then rising from her bed, she of pure and gentle smiles, without bestowing a glance on her godly husband, began to question her maids about the cause of the fragrance (17). But thus questioned, the maids could not say anything, and kneeling down on the ground they waited there with countenances cast down towards the earth and with palms joined together (in supplication) (11). Then (as if) not finding the source of that wonderful fragrance, Satyabhama bethought herself thus:—"The earth emits diverse kinds of smell; can this fragrance be one of her excellent emissions?" (19) Then when wondering as to what this could be due, she was looking on all sides, her glance suddenly lighted on Kesava that creator of the worlds (20). She said "Ah! right," and then suddenly her eyes became dimmed with tears, the intensity of love filling her all the more with jealous anger (21). With her delicate lips pouting and herself sighing, that beautiful lady of dark eyes then turned her down-cast countenance away in another direction, and remained thus for a while (22). Then contracting her brows in a disapproving frown and placing her face on her palms, she said to Hari with her eyes upraised, "Thou lookest beautiful" (23). Tears of jealous passion began to flow down from her eyes, like drops of dew falling from a pair of lotus-petals (24). The lotus-eyed Krishna then seeing tears flow down from the lotus-like countenance of her wife, approached her in haste and held them in her hands (25). Then wiping off with his hands those tears that were falling on her breast, that wearer of the mark of Srivatsa, the lotus-eyed Vishnu spoke to her as follows (26):—"O lotus-eyed one, O most beautiful and excellent lady,–for what reason is it that tears flow down from thine eyes likes drops of dew from a pair of lotuses (27)? O fascinating lady-why do thy countenance and thy body wear the shape of (appear like) the full moon in the morning sky, or the full-blown lotus at noon[281] (28) O thou of delicate waist, what is the reason that thou dost not wear to-day garments sprinkled with safflower and gold-dust, but choosest the white and plain ones (29)? Although the garments decorated with safflower and gold-dust thou likest most, why hast thou then worn the white garments which ladies do not like to wear except at the time of worshipping the gods (30)? O thou of beautiful limbs—say why are thy limbs unadorned with ornaments? Why, O most excellent lady, is thy seat for writing letters soiled with tears. (31)? Why, O thou of beautiful shape, do the fragrant white sandal (and not red) and the white silk cloth (not yellow or blue) veil thy beautiful forehead (32)? O dearest object of my heart, O thou of expanded eyes—thou hast thus so bedimmed the brightness of thy countenance as to cause, O dear one, great pain to my mind (33). The unctuous and refrigerent sandal paste that loves thy forehead most, does not look beautiful on that seat for writing letters[282] (34). Thy neck, deprived of ornaments, does not appear beautiful, just as the autumn sky does not look beautiful being devoid of the planets and stars and the silvery beams of the moon (35). Why dost thou not to-day greet me, with language flowing out from thy smiling face that breathes the perfume of the lotus and vies with the beauty of the full moon (36). Why dost thou not to-day cast even a partial glance on me? Why dost thou heave sighs and shed tears that mar the beauty of the collyrium of thine eyes (37)? O thou of complexion bright like the blue lotus, O intelligent lady! do thou not weep any more! Do not shed tears soiled with the collyrium of thine eyes only to prejudice the beauty of thy incomparable face (38). O thou of divine beauty—I am known in the world as thy servant; Why then, O most excellent lady, dost thou not command me as before? (39). What act, O beautiful queen, repulsive to thee, have I committed, for which, O dear one, thou gavest thyself so much pain (40)? I have never neglected thee, in thought, in actions or in words; this, O thou of exquisite limbs, I tell thee in all sooth (41). O beautiful lady, I entertain it is true, regard for my other wives—but save in thyself my regard and affection do not reach the consummation (42). O thou that may be compared with the daughter of the gods,—my love for thee will not wane even if my life were taken away from me; know this to be my firm belief (43). Just as endurance, &c., are the constant qualities of the earth, just as sound is the constant quality of space, so sure is my love for thee, O thou of brightness like the lotus-bud (44). Just as flame is in fire, divine brightness is in the sun, and unfading charms are in the moon, so my love resides in thee and thee only (45)."
When Janardana had thus spoken in his vindication, the blessed Satyabhāma, wiping off the tears of her eyes addressed him slowly in the following manner (46). "Hence-before, O lord, my firm belief was that thou wert mine own. But to-day I come to perceive that thy love for me is nothing more than ordinary and common-place (47). I did not know before that the course of time is uncertain. But I have come to know to-day that the course of the world is fickle (48). I entertained the fond hope that so long I live, thou only shalt be my second self and I thine. But what is the good of talking much; I know thy heart, O infallible one (49). I see that thou usest fascination in speech only and thy love for me is false; whereas it is true in regard to the other wives of thine (50). Knowing me to be simple and attached to thyself, thou, O foremost of men, dost neglect me with thy cruel, guileful conduct (51). This surely is more than enough! I have seen what is worth-seeing and have heard what is worth-hearing. I have perceived the fruition of thy love for me (52). Be that as it may, I have made up my mind to devote myself to the performance of severe penances, and if thou cherishest any love for me, thou ought to permit me to do so; for whatever vows or penances women may observe, must be with the permission of their husbands, in as much as those that are undertaken against the husband's consent, surely become fruitless" (53-55).
Having thus spoken that chaste and beautiful lady again wiped off the tears from her eyes; then that blessed one of pleasing smiles, catching the end of Hari's yellow garment covered her face with it (55).
| [280] | This used to be a separate room in the palace of ancient queens, where they resorted in order to indicate their annoyance or anger at the conduct of their husbands. |
| [281] | The moon wanes in the morning and the lotus withers down at noon. Krishna asks in circumlocution the cause of the lady's pale and placid appearance. |
| [282] | It appears that the lady had lain her head down on the seat in consequence of which it was besmeared with the sandal of her forehead. |
CHAPTER CXXIV. SATYABHAMA'S GRIEF.
Vaishampāyana said:—O Bharata, Nārāyana once more affectionately addressed the chaste and beautiful Satyabhāma who was thus suffering under the influence of jealousy and resentment, in the following manner (1).
The auspicious god said:—O lotus-eyed one! sorrow seems to burn through all my limbs (at seeing thee in this plight). What is the cause that has renderd thee so much aggrieved? (2). O thou beautiful in all thy parts, if there is no harm and if it is proper for thy affectionate husband to hear it, I entreat thee, on my life, to reveal to me the cause of thy grief (3).
Then Satyabhāmā seated with her countenance cast down towards the earth thus spoke to her husband, ever truthful in vows, in a voice choked with the vapour of grief (4). "O lotus-eyed one, O destroyer of Kesin, O bestower of honor it was thy ownself that established my honor and prosperity in days gone—and that honor and that prosperity have now become famous in the worlds (5). That I am most beloved of thee among all thy wives—is what prompted me to raise my head with pride above all others, O God (6). But, my maids have told me as they have heard it others say, that to-day I have been laughed at by my rival (co-wives) and by other people also (7). I hear that the Parijata flower that Nārada gave thee, thou hast given to thy dear one, totally neglecting my (poor) self (8). That thy love and thy regard for her is supreme, thou hast given unmistakable expression to—by presenting her with that best of all precious things (the Parijata flower) (9). Narada also eulogised her in thy presence, and thou surely wert also gratified having heard that eulogy bestowed on thy dear wife (10). But supposing Narada had some reason for praising her in thy presence, why was it that the name of this unfortunate one was uttered in that connection (11)? O Lord, if I am to repent for having tasted the (sweet) liquor of thy love, it is better I should have nothing to do with it? Be kindly pleased to accord me thy permission (12). O lotus-eyed one, I could not have believed even in my dream, that thou hast honored some body else more than myself; but alas, it has come to pass in real life even before the eyes of others (13). It may be that the sage Narada of incomparable powers has conceived a love for her (Rukshmini), but O lord, the cause of my grief in this, is thy presence in the scene (14). Thou hast told me that people live for the sake of honor only,–so, thus dishonored, I do not desire to live any longer (15). My source of protection has been turned to-day into my source of fear. He that used to protect me in every-thing does not do so to-day (16), Alas, what course shall I pursue, O Lord, being thus abandoned by thee! Surely renounced by thee, I shall be reduced to the condition of the white lily[283] (17). Have I done to day something disliked by the gods out of foolishness in consequence of which, O bestower of honour I have incurred thy dislike, although I used to be thy chosen one (18). How could I who was thy beloved wife, but now discarded, look upon this Raibataka Hills decked with the flowers of the spring (19)? Now that I have been the object of thy hate, how could I, unfortunate one, venture to breathe the pure breeze (of this place) ringing with the sweet notes of the cuckoo and fraught with fragrance of the flowers (20). How could I, who did sport on thy lap inside the waters of this ocean, again glance at it, O lord, in this my unhappy condition (21)? Thou didst tell me in days gone by,–'O daughter of Satrajit, know that there is no wife of mine dearer to me than thyself'—What of that assurance! Or who cares to remember it[284] (22)! My mother-in-law used to look upon me with much regard and pleasure—but unfortunate lady queen as she was,—she has been contemptuously treated by thee (23). O Lord, what then is the good of this thy hidden and unmanifest love for me, if thou dost not even deign to reckon me among thy common wives (23)? O subduer of thy foes, I did not know thee hence-before to be so much of a cheat and a knave; but now I have come to know thee as fickle, deceiving, and partial to my rival (co-wife)[285] (25). I have read thy innermost and secret thoughts, O thief, by thy articulations and thy features and signs, although thou triest to conceal them from me; thou knave, thou partisan of my rival, it is thy tongue only that is honeyed, but thou art too guileful" (26).