________________________________________________
_ SCENE VIII
Villagers
WHO will protect us now?
Arjuna
Why, by what danger are you threatened?
Villagers
The robbers are pouring from the northern hills like a mountain
flood to devastate our village.
Arjuna
Have you in this kingdom no warden?
Villagers
Princess Chitra was the terror of all evil doers. While she was
in this happy land we feared natural deaths, but had no other
fears. Now she has gone on a pilgrimage, and none knows where to
find her.
Arjuna
Is the warden of this country a woman?
Villagers
Yes, she is our father and mother in one.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter CHITRA.]
Chitra
Why are you sitting all alone?
Arjuna
I am trying to imagine what kind of woman Princess Chitra may be.
I hear so many stories of her from all sorts of men.
Chitra
Ah, but she is not beautiful. She has no such lovely eyes as
mine, dark as death. She can pierce any target she will, but not
our hero's heart.
Arjuna
They say that in valour she is a man, and a woman in tenderness.
Chitra
That, indeed, is her greatest misfortune. When a woman is merely
a woman; when she winds herself round and round men's hearts with
her smiles and sobs and services and caressing endearments; then
she is happy. Of what use to her are learning and great
achievements? Could you have seen her only yesterday in the
court of the Lord Shiva's temple by the forest path, you would
have passed by without deigning to look at her. But have you
grown so weary of woman's beauty that you seek in her for a man's
strength?
With green leaves wet from the spray of the foaming waterfall, I
have made our noonday bed in a cavern dark as night. There the
cool of the soft green mosses thick on the black and dripping
stone, kisses your eyes to sleep. Let me guide you thither.
Arjuna
Not today, beloved.
Chitra
Why not today?
Arjuna
I have heard that a horde of robbers has neared the plains.
Needs must I go and prepare my weapons to protect the frightened
villagers.
Chitra
You need have no fear for them. Before she started on her
pilgrimage, Princess Chitra had set strong guards at all the
frontier passes.
Arjuna
Yet permit me for a short while to set about a Kshatriya's work.
With new glory will I ennoble this idle arm, and make of it a
pillow more worthy of your head.
Chitra
What if I refuse to let you go, if I keep you entwined in my
arms? Would you rudely snatch yourself free and leave me? Go
then! But you must know that the liana, once broken in two,
never joins again. Go, if your thirst is quenched. But, if not,
then remember that the goddess of pleasure is fickle, and waits
for no man. Sit for a while, my lord! Tell me what uneasy
thoughts tease you. Who occupied your mind today? Is it Chitra?
Arjuna
Yes, it is Chitra. I wonder in fulfilment of what vow she has
gone on her pilgrimage. Of what could she stand in need?
Chitra
Her needs? Why, what has she ever had, the unfortunate creature?
Her very qualities are as prison walls, shutting her woman's
heart in a bare cell. She is obscured, she is unfulfilled. Her
womanly love must content itself dressed in rags; beauty is
denied her. She is like the spirit of a cheerless morning,
sitting upon the stony mountain peak, all her light blotted out
by dark clouds. Do not ask me of her life. It will never sound
sweet to man's ear.
Arjuna
I am eager to learn all about her. I am like a traveller come to
a strange city at midnight. Domes and towers and garden-trees
look vague and shadowy, and the dull moan of the sea comes
fitfully through the silence of sleep. Wistfully he waits for
the morning to reveal to him all the strange wonders. Oh, tell
me her story.
Chitra
What more is there to tell?
Arjuna
I seem to see her, in my mind's eye, riding on a white horse,
proudly holding the reins in her left hand, and in her right a
bow, and like the Goddess of Victory dispensing glad hope all
round her. Like a watchful lioness she protects the litter at
her dugs with a fierce love. Woman's arms, though adorned with
naught but unfettered strength, are beautiful! My heart is
restless, fair one, like a serpent reviving from his long
winter's sleep. Come, let us both race on swift horses side by
side, like twin orbs of light sweeping through space. Out from
this slumbrous prison of green gloom, this dank, dense cover of
perfumed intoxication, choking breath.
Chitra
Arjuna, tell me true, if, now at once, by some magic I could
shake myself free from this voluptuous softness, this timid bloom
of beauty shrinking from the rude and healthy touch of the world,
and fling it from my body like borrowed clothes, would you be
able to bear it? If I stand up straight and strong with the
strength of a daring heart spurning the wiles and arts of twining
weakness, if I hold my head high like a tall young mountain fir,
no longer trailing in the dust like a liana, shall I then appeal
to man's eye? No, no, you could not endure it. It is better
that I should keep spread about me all the dainty playthings of
fugitive youth, and wait for you in patience. When it pleases
you to return, I will smilingly pour out for you the wine of
pleasure in the cup of this beauteous body. When you are tired
and satiated with this wine, you can go to work or play; and when
I grow old I will accept humbly and gratefully whatever corner is
left for me. Would it please your heroic soul if the playmate of
the night aspired to be the helpmeet of the day, if the left arm
learnt to share the burden of the proud right arm?
Arjuna
I never seem to know you aright. You seem to me like a goddess
hidden within a golden image. I cannot touch you, I cannot pay
you my dues in return for your priceless gifts. Thus my love is
incomplete. Sometimes in the enigmatic depth of your sad look,
in your playful words mocking at their own meaning, I gain
glimpses of a being trying to rend asunder the languorous grace
of her body, to emerge in a chaste fire of pain through a
vaporous veil of smiles. Illusion is the first appearance of
Truth. She advances towards her lover in disguise. But a time
comes when she throws off her ornaments and veils and stands
clothed in naked dignity. I grope for that ultimate you, that
bare simplicity of truth.
Why these tears, my love? Why cover your face with your hands?
Have I pained you, my darling? Forget what I said. I will be
content with the present. Let each separate moment of beauty
come to me like a bird of mystery from its unseen nest in the
dark bearing a message of music. Let me for ever sit with
my hope on the brink of its realization, and thus end my days.
___
End of Scene VIII [Rabindranath Tagore's play/drama: Chitra] _
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