The Kādambarī of Bāṇa

‘“For a little time she pondered his request in silence, and then she began to weep noiselessly, and her eyes were blinded by tears which fell in large drops, carrying with them the purity of her heart, showering down the innocence of her senses, distilling the essence of asceticism, dropping in a liquid form the brightness of her eyes, most pure, falling on her white cheeks like a broken string of pearls, unceasing, splashing on her bosom covered by the bark robe.

(273) ‘“And as he beheld her weeping Candrāpīḍa reflected: ‘How hardly can misfortune be warded off, if it takes for its own a beauty like this, which one might have deemed beyond its might! Of a truth there is none whom the sorrows of life in the body leave untouched. Strong indeed is the working of the opposed powers of pleasure and pain.255 These her tears have created in me a further curiosity, even greater than before. It is no slight grief that can take its abode in a form like hers. For it is not a feeble blow that causes the earth to tremble.’

‘“While his curiosity was thus increased he felt himself guilty of recalling her grief, and rising, brought in his folded hand from the torrent some water to bathe her face. But she, though the torrent of her tears was in nowise checked by his gentleness, yet bathed her reddened eyes, and drying her face with the edge of her bark robe, slowly said with a long and bitter sigh:

(274) ‘“‘Wherefore, Prince, wilt thou hear the story of my ascetic life, all unfit for thy ears? for cruel has been my heart, hard my destiny, and evil my condition, even from my birth. Still, if thy desire to know be great, hearken. It has come within the range of our hearing, usually directed to auspicious knowledge, that there are in the abode of the gods maidens called Apsarases. Of these there are fourteen families: one sprung from the mind of Brahmā, another from the Vedas, another from fire, another from the wind, another from nectar when it was churned, another from water, another from the sun’s rays, another from the moon’s beams, another from earth, and another from lightning; one was fashioned by Death, and another created by Love; besides, Daksha, father of all, had among his many daughters two, Muni and Arishṭā, and from their union with the Gandharvas were sprung the other two families. These are, in sum, the fourteen races. But from the Gandharvas and the daughters of Daksha sprang these two families. Here Muni bore a sixteenth son, by name Citraratha, who excelled in virtues Sena and all the rest of his fifteen brothers. For his heroism was famed through the three worlds; his dignity was increased by the name of Friend, bestowed by Indra, whose lotus feet are caressed by the crests of the gods cast down before him; and even in childhood he gained the sovereignty of all the Gandharvas by a right arm tinged with the flashing of his sword. (275) Not far hence, north of the land of Bharata, is his dwelling, Hemakūṭa, a boundary mountain in the Kimpurusha country. There, protected by his arm, dwell innumerable Gandharvas. By him this pleasant wood, Caitraratha, was made, this great lake Acchoda was dug out, and this image of Çiva was fashioned. But the son of Arishṭā, in the second Gandharva family, was as a child anointed king by Citraratha, lord of the Gandharvas, and now holds royal rank, and with a countless retinue of Gandharvas dwells likewise on this mountain. Now, from that family of Apsarases which sprang from the moon’s nectar was born a maiden, fashioned as though by the grace of all the moon’s digits poured in one stream, gladdening the eyes of the universe, moonbeam-fair, in name and nature a second Gaurī.256 (276) Her Haṃsa, lord of the second family, wooed, as the Milky Ocean the Ganges; with him she was united, as Rati with Kāma, or the lotus-bed with the autumn; and enjoying the great happiness of such a union she became the queen of his zenana. To this noble pair I was born as only daughter, ill-omened, a prey for grief, and a vessel for countless sorrows; my father, however, having no other child, greeted my birth with a great festival, surpassing that for a son, and on the tenth day, with the customary rites he gave me the fitting name of Mahāçvetā. In his palace I spent my childhood, passed from lap to lap of the Gandharva dames, like a lute, as I murmured the prattle of babyhood, ignorant as yet of the sorrows of love; but in time fresh youth came to me as the honey-month to the spring, fresh shoots to the honey-month, flowers to the fresh shoots, bees to the flowers, and honey to the bees.

‘“‘257And one day in the month of honey I went down with my mother to the Acchoda lake to bathe, when its beauties were spread wide in the spring, and all its lotuses were in flower.

(278) ‘“‘I worshipped the pictures of Çiva, attended by Bṛingiriṭi, which were carved on the rocks of the bank by Pārvatī when she came down to bathe, and which had the reverential attendance of ascetics portrayed by the thin footprints left in the dust. “How beautiful!” I cried, “is this bower of creepers, with its clusters of flowers of which the bees’ weight has broken the centre and bowed the filaments; this mango is fully in flower, and the honey pours through the holes in the stalks of its buds, which the cuckoo’s sharp claws have pierced; how cool this sandal avenue, which the serpents, terrified at the murmur of hosts of wild peacocks, have deserted; how delightful the waving creepers, which betray by their fallen blossoms the swinging of the wood-nymphs upon them; how pleasant the foot of the trees on the bank where the kalahaṃsas have left the line of their steps imprinted in the pollen of many a flower!” Drawn on thus by the ever-growing charms of the wood, I wandered with my companions. (279) And at a certain spot I smelt the fragrance of a flower strongly borne on the wind, overpowering that of all the rest, though the wood was in full blossom; it drew near, and by its great sweetness seemed to anoint, to delight, and to fill the sense of smell. Bees followed it, seeking to make it their own: it was truly a perfume unknown heretofore, and fit for the gods. I, too, eager to learn whence it came, with eyes turned into buds, and drawn on like a bee by that scent, and attracting to me the kalahaṃsas of the lake by the jangling of my anklets loudly clashed in the tremulous speed of my curiosity, advanced a few steps and beheld a graceful youthful ascetic coming down to bathe. He was like Spring doing penance in grief for Love made the fuel of Çiva’s fire, or the crescent on Çiva’s brow performing a vow to win a full orb, or Love restrained in his eagerness to conquer Çiva: by his great splendour he appeared to be girt by a cage of quivering lightning, embosomed in the globe of the summer sun, or encircled in the flames of a furnace: (280) by the brightness of his form, flashing forth ever more and more, yellow as lamplight, he made the grove a tawny gold; his locks were yellow and soft like an amulet dyed in gorocanā. The line of ashes on his brow made him like Ganges with the line of a fresh sandbank, as though it were a sandal-mark to win Sarasvatī,258 and played the part of a banner of holiness; his eyebrows were an arch rising high over the abode of men’s curses; his eyes were so long that he seemed to wear them as a chaplet; he shared with the deer the beauty of their glance; his nose was long and aquiline; the citron of his lower lip was rosy as with the glow of youth, which was refused an entrance to his heart; with his beardless cheek he was like a fresh lotus, the filaments of which have not yet been tossed by the bees in their sport; he was adorned with a sacrificial thread like the bent string of Love’s bow, or a filament from the lotus grove of the pool of penance; in one hand he bore a pitcher like a kesara fruit with its stalk; in the other a crystal rosary, strung as it were with the tears of Rati wailing in grief for Love’s death. (281) His loins were girt with a muñja-grass girdle, as though he had assumed a halo, having outvied the sun by his innate splendour; the office of vesture was performed by the bark of the heavenly coral-tree,259 bright as the pink eyelid of an old partridge, and washed in the waves of the heavenly Ganges; he was the ornament of ascetic life, the youthful grace of holiness, the delight of Sarasvatī, the chosen lord of all the sciences, and the meeting-place of all divine tradition. He had, like the summer season,260 his āshāḍha261; he had, like a winter wood, the brightness of opening millet, and he had like the month of honey, a face adorned with white tilaka.262 With him there was a youthful ascetic gathering flowers to worship the gods, his equal in age and a friend worthy of himself.

(282) ‘“‘Then I saw a wondrous spray of flowers which decked his ear, like the bright smile of woodland Çrī joying in the sight of spring, or the grain-offering of the honey-month welcoming the Malaya winds, or the youth of the Lakshmī of flowers, or the cowrie that adorns Love’s elephant; it was wooed by the bees; the Pleiads lent it their grace; and its honey was nectar. “Surely,” I decided, “this is the fragrance which makes all other flowers scentless,” and gazing at the youthful ascetic, the thought arose in my mind: “Ah, how lavish is the Creator who has skill263 to produce the highest perfection of form, for he has compounded Kāma of all miraculous beauty, excelling the universe, and yet has created this ascetic even more fair, surpassing him, like a second love-god, born of enchantment. (283) Methinks that when Brahmā264 made the moon’s orb to gladden the world, and the lotuses to be Lakshmī’s palace of delight, he was but practising to gain skill for the creation of this ascetic’s face; why else should such things be created? Surely it is false that the sun with its ray Sushumnā265 drinks all the digits of the moon as it wanes in the dark fortnight, for their beams are cast down to enter this fair form. How otherwise could there be such grace in one who lives in weary penance, beauty’s destroyer?” As I thus thought, Love, beauty’s firm adherent, who knows not good from ill, and who is ever at hand to the young, enthralled me, together with my sighs, as the madness of spring takes captive the bee. Then with a right eye gazing steadily, the eyelashes half closed, the iris darkened by the pupil’s tremulous sidelong glance, I looked long on him. With this glance I, as it were, drank him in, besought him, told him I was wholly his, offered my heart, tried to enter into him with my whole soul, sought to be absorbed in him, implored his protection to save Love’s victim, showed my suppliant state that asked for a place in his heart; (284) and though I asked myself, “What is this shameful feeling that has arisen in me, unseemly and unworthy a noble maiden?” yet knowing this, I could not master myself, but with great difficulty stood firm, gazing at him. For I seemed to be paralyzed, or in a picture, or scattered abroad, or bound, or in a trance, and yet in wondrous wise upheld, as though when my limbs were failing, support was at the same moment given; for I know not how one can be certain in a matter that can neither be told nor taught, and that is not capable of being told, for it is only learnt from within. Can it be ascertained as presented by his beauty, or by my own mind, or by love, or by youth or affection, or by any other causes? I cannot tell. Lifted up and dragged towards him by my senses, led forward by my heart, urged from behind by Love, I yet by a strong effort restrained my impulse. (285) Straightway a storm of sighs went forth unceasingly, prompted by Love as he strove to find a place within me; and my bosom heaved as longing to speak earnestly to my heart, and then I thought to myself: “What an unworthy action is this of vile Kāma, who surrenders me to this cold ascetic free from all thoughts of love! Truly, the heart of woman is foolish exceedingly, since it cannot weigh the fitness of that which it loves. For what has this bright home of glory and penance to do with the stirrings of love that meaner men welcome? Surely in his heart he scorns me for being thus deceived by Kāma! Strange it is that I who know this cannot restrain my feeling! (286) Other maidens, indeed, laying shame aside, have of their own accord gone to their lords; others have been maddened by that reckless love-god; but not as I am here alone! How in that one moment has my heart been thrown into turmoil by the mere sight of his form, and passed from my control! for time for knowledge and good qualities always make Love invincible. It is best for me to leave this place while I yet have my senses, and while he does not clearly see this my hateful folly of love. Perchance if he sees in me the effects of a love he cannot approve, he will in wrath make me feel his curse. For ascetics are ever prone to wrath.” Thus having resolved, I was eager to depart, but, remembering that holy men should be reverenced by all, I made an obeisance to him with eyes turned to his face, eyelashes motionless, not glancing downwards, my cheek uncaressed by the flowers dancing in my ears, my garland tossing on my waving hair, and my jewelled earrings swinging on my shoulders.

‘“‘As I thus bent, the irresistible command of love, the inspiration of the spring, the charm of the place, the frowardness of youth, the unsteadiness of the senses, (287) the impatient longing for earthly goods, the fickleness of the mind, the destiny that rules events – in a word, my own cruel fate, and the fact that all my trouble was caused by him, were the means by which Love destroyed his firmness by the sight of my feeling, and made him waver towards me like a flame in the wind. He too was visibly thrilled, as if to welcome the newly-entering Love; his sighs went before him to show the way to his mind which was hastening towards me; the rosary in his hand trembled and shook, fearing the breaking of his vow; drops rose on his cheek, like a second garland hanging from his ear; his eyes, as his pupils dilated and his glance widened in the joy of beholding me, turned the spot to a very lotus-grove, so that the ten regions were filled by the long rays coming forth like masses of open lotuses that had of their own accord left the Acchoda lake and were rising to the sky.

‘“‘By the manifest change in him my love was redoubled, and I fell that moment into a state I cannot describe, all unworthy of my caste. “Surely,” I reflected, “Kāma himself teaches this play of the eye, though generally after a long happy love, else whence comes this ascetic’s gaze? (288) For his mind is unversed in the mingled feelings of earthly joys, and yet his eyes, though they have never learnt the art, pour forth the stream of love’s sweetness, rain nectar, are half closed by joy, are slow with distress, heavy with sleep, roaming with pupils tremulous and languid with the weight of gladness, and yet bright with the play of his eyebrows. Whence comes this exceeding skill that tells the heart’s longing wordlessly by a glance alone?”

‘“‘Impelled by these thoughts I advanced, and bowing to the second young ascetic, his companion, I asked: “What is the name of his Reverence? Of what ascetic is he the son? From what tree is this garland woven? For its scent, hitherto unknown, and of rare sweetness, kindles great curiosity in me.”

‘“‘With a slight smile, he replied: “Maiden, what needs this question? But I will enlighten thy curiosity. Listen!

‘“‘“There dwells in the world of gods a great sage, Çvetaketu; his noble character is famed through the universe; his feet are honoured by bands of siddhas, gods, and demons; (289) his beauty, exceeding that of Nalakūbara,266 is dear to the three worlds, and gladdens the hearts of goddesses. Once upon a time, when seeking lotuses for the worship of the gods, he went down to the Heavenly Ganges, which lay white as Çiva’s smile, while its water was studded as with peacocks’ eyes by the ichor of Airāvata. Straightway Lakshmī, enthroned on a thousand-petalled white lotus close by, beheld him coming down among the flowers, and looking on him, she drank in his beauty with eyes half closed by love, and quivering with weight of joyous tears, and with her slender fingers laid on her softly-opening lips; and her heart was disturbed by Love; by her glance alone she won his affection. A son was born, and taking him in her arms with the words, ‘Take him, for he is thine,’ she gave him to Çvetaketu, who performed all the rites of a son’s birth, and called him Puṇḍarīka, because he was born in a puṇḍarīka lotus. Moreover, after initiation, he led him through the whole circle of the arts. (290) This is Puṇḍarīka whom you see. And this spray comes from the pārijāta tree,267 which rose when the Milky Ocean was churned by gods and demons. How it gained a place in his ear contrary to his vow, I will now tell. This being the fourteenth day of the month, he started with me from heaven to worship Çiva, who had gone to Kailāsa. On the way, near the Nandana Wood, a nymph, drunk with the juice of flowers, wearing fresh mango shoots in her ear, veiled completely by garlands falling to the knees, girt with kesara flowers, and resting on the fair hand lent her by the Lakshmī of spring, took this spray of pārijāta, and bending low, thus addressed Puṇḍarīka: ‘Sir, let, I pray, this thy form, that gladdens the eyes of the universe, have this spray as its fitting adornment; let it be placed on the tip of thy ear, for it has but the playfulness that belongs to a garland; let the birth of the pārijāta now reap its full blessing!’ At her words, his eyes were cast down in modesty at the praise he so well deserved, and he turned to depart without regarding her; but as I saw her following us, I said, ‘What is the harm, friend. Let her courteous gift be accepted!’ and so by force, against his will, the spray adorns his ear. Now all has been told: who he is, whose son, and what this flower is, and how it has been raised to his ear.” (291) When he had thus spoken, Puṇḍarīka said to me with a slight smile: “Ah, curious maiden, why didst thou take the trouble to ask this? If the flower, with its sweet scent, please thee, do thou accept it,” and advancing, he took it from his own ear and placed it in mine, as though, with the soft murmur of the bees on it, it were a prayer for love. At once, in my eagerness to touch his hand, a thrill arose in me, like a second pārijāta flower, where the garland lay; while he, in the pleasure of touching my cheek, did not see that from his tremulous fingers he had dropped his rosary at the same time as his timidity; but before it reached the ground I seized it, and playfully placed it on my neck, where it wore the grace of a necklace unlike all others, while I learnt the joy of having my neck clasped, as it were, by his arm.

‘“‘As our hearts were thus occupied with each other, my umbrella-bearer addressed me: “Princess, the Queen has bathed. It is nearly time to go home. Do thou, therefore, also bathe.” At her words, like a newly-caught elephant, rebellious at the first touch of the new hook, I was unwillingly dragged away, and as I went down to bathe, I could hardly withdraw my eyes, for they seemed to be drowned in the ambrosial beauty of his face, or caught in the thicket of my thrilling cheek, or pinned down by Love’s shafts, or sewn fast by the cords268 of his charms.

(292) ‘“‘Meanwhile, the second young ascetic, seeing that he was losing his self-control, gently upbraided him: “Dear Puṇḍarīka, this is unworthy of thee. This is the way trodden by common men. For the good are rich in self-control. Why dost thou, like a man of low caste, fail to restrain the turmoil of thy soul? Whence comes this hitherto unknown assault of the senses, which so transforms thee? Where is thine old firmness? Where thy conquest of the senses? Where thy self-control? Where thy calm of mind, thine inherited holiness, thy carelessness of earthly things? Where the teaching of thy guru, thy learning of the Vedas, thy resolves of asceticism, thy hatred of pleasure, thine aversion to vain delights, thy passion for penance, thy distaste for enjoyments, thy rule over the impulses of youth? Verily all knowledge is fruitless, study of holy books is useless, initiation has lost its meaning, pondering the teaching of gurus avails not, proficiency is worthless, learning leads to nought, since even men like thee are stained by the touch of passion, and overcome by folly. (293) Thou dost not even see that thy rosary has fallen from thy hand, and has been carried away. Alas! how good sense fails in men thus struck down. Hold back this heart of thine, for this worthless girl is seeking to carry it away.”

‘“‘To these words he replied, with some shame: “Dear Kapiñjala, why dost thou thus misunderstand me? I am not one to endure this reckless girl’s offence in taking my rosary!” and with his moonlike face beautiful in its feigned wrath, and adorned the more by the dread frown he tried to assume, while his lip trembled with longing to kiss me, he said to me, “Playful maiden, thou shalt not move a step from this place without giving back my rosary.” Thereupon I loosed from my neck a single row of pearls as the flower-offering that begins a dance in Kāma’s honour, and placed it in his outstretched hand, while his eyes were fixed on my face, and his mind was far away. I started to bathe, but how I started I know not, for my mother and my companions could hardly lead me away by force, like a river driven backwards, and I went home thinking only of him.

(294) ‘“‘And entering the maidens’ dwelling, I began straightway to ask myself in my grief at his loss: “Am I really back, or still there? Am I alone, or with my maidens? Am I silent, or beginning to speak? Am I awake or asleep? Do I weep or hold back my tears? Is this joy or sorrow, longing or despair, misfortune or gladness, day or night? Are these things pleasures or pains?” All this I understood not. In my ignorance of Love’s course, I knew not whither to go, what to do, hear, see, or speak, whom to tell, nor what remedy to seek. Entering the maidens’ palace, I dismissed my friends at the door, and shut out my attendants, and then, putting aside all my occupations, I stood alone with my face against the jewelled window. I gazed at the region which, in its possession of him, was richly decked, endowed with great treasure, overflowed by the ocean of nectar, adorned with the rising of the full moon, and most fair to behold, I longed to ask his doings even of the breeze wafted from thence, or of the scent of the woodland flowers, or of the song of the birds. (295) I envied even the toils of penance for his devotion to them. For his sake, in the blind adherence of love, I took a vow of silence. I attributed grace to the ascetic garb, because he accepted it, beauty to youth because he owned it, charm to the pārijāta flower because it touched his ear, delight to heaven because he dwelt there, and invincible power to love because he was so fair. Though far away, I turned towards him as the lotus-bed to the sun, the tide to the moon, or the peacock to the cloud. I bore on my neck his rosary, like a charm against the loss of the life stricken by his absence. I stood motionless, though a thrill made the down on my cheek like a kadamba flower ear-ring, as it rose from the joy of being touched by his hand, and from the pārijāta spray in my ear, which spoke sweetly to me of him.

‘“‘Now my betel-bearer, Taralikā, had been with me to bathe; she came back after me rather late, and softly addressed me in my sadness: “Princess, one of those godlike ascetics we saw on the bank of Lake Acchoda – (296) he by whom this spray of the heavenly tree was placed in thy ear – as I was following thee, eluded the glance of his other self, and approaching me with soft steps between the branches of a flowering creeper, asked me concerning thee, saying, ‘Damsel, who is this maiden? Whose daughter is she? What is her name? And whither goes she?’ I replied: ‘She is sprung from Gaurī, an Apsaras of the moon race, and her father Haṃsa is king of all the Gandharvas; the nails of his feet are burnished by the tips of the jewelled aigrettes on the turbans of all the Gandharvas; his tree-like arms are marked by the cosmetics on the cheeks of his Gandharva wives, and the lotus-hand of Lakshmī forms his footstool. The princess is named Mahāçvetā, and she has set out now for the hill of Hemakūṭa, the abode of the Gandharvas.’

‘“‘“When this tale had been told by me, he thought silently for a moment, and then looking long at me with a steady gaze, as if gently entreating me, he said: ‘Damsel, thy form, young as thou art, is of fair promise, and augurs truth and steadfastness. Grant me, therefore, one request.’ Courteously raising my hands, I reverently replied: (297) ‘Wherefore say this? Who am I? When great-souled men such as thou, meet for the honour of the whole universe, deign to cast even their sin-removing glance on one like me, their act wins merit – much more if they give a command. Say, therefore, freely what is to be done. Let me be honoured by thy bidding.’