Vrishaparva, ‘Behead Kacha and bring his head on a salver to the court. I am going to show you all what an adept danseuse I am!’
Kacha was led out of the court and beheaded. The guard brought his bloody head in. I put the salver down and danced the love theme round it. Love smiles like a blooming flower and sometimes flares like a fire. Sometimes it twinkles like a star or it strikes like lightning. It may take the form of a tame deer or a vicious cobra! It may rejuvenate or slay. I depicted all this in my dance.
I do not know how long I danced thus. I was intoxicated and could see nothing except Kacha’s head. Blood was oozing from it and I imagined it to be my lover’s head anointed with the auspicious red tilak [1] . I forgot that the head was lifeless. I danced up to it, knelt down and kissed it with the words : ‘Kacha dear, you did not want to kiss me, but there you are, I have you in the end.’
I am still in love with Kacha. How then could I be so cruel? Where do dreams come from? Do they not stem from the mind? Ah! I know now. A dream is like an intricate weave. How did this dream come to my mind —
Kacha used to say that a disciple must observe the vow of purity. He would gather wild flowers for me with unfailing regard but he never put them in my hair. My slightest touch was to him heavenly bliss and he used to come alive for an instant, even with a passing one. But he was constantly on the alert to avoid it.
Or is it that my foolish heart is still in love with him? And the conscious mind hates him? Love and hate. Fire and water.
When will this conflict of the conscious and subconscious end? How foolish, soft and blind is a woman’s heart! Kacha has never even enquired of me since he left. He had achieved Sanjeevani on the plea of my love for him and returned to the realm of the gods. He was hailed there as a great ascetic and hero! The mortal danger to the gods had receded because of him.
Now he can claim any celestial beauty of his choice. Why then should he remember Devayani? Men are so ungrateful! Wily, hard and heartless! Like the birds in a fable, they fly away with the net with ease. As for the women, their hearts are entangled in the invisible web of love and they sit and weep helplessly.
No, I will not sit and fret like other women. I am made of sterner stuff. God has given me beauty and Father has given me intelligence and education.
All of Father’s earlier penance has now come to nought. He is going to undertake another to acquire a different power. I am the daughter of Maharishi Shukracharya, who has risen above the world. I am going to forget Kacha.
No, I am going to banish him from my mind. He has left me with a curse. But how can a true lover curse his beloved? What does it matter if a Brahmin’s son will not marry me? Has the Creator given me all this unique beauty so that I may only bedeck myself with flowers? Is it for nothing that a beauty like Princess Sharmishtha, the King’s daughter, is always envious of me? She must be racking her head as to the clothes she must wear to look prettier than Devayani. On the first day of the spring festivities tomorrow morning, the princess and her friends are going for a picnic in the forest and then go bathing. I am also going for Father’s sake, in that beautiful sari which Kacha brought for me from heaven, when all eyes will be dazzled. I had put it away for a long time specially for these festivities. Sharmishtha probably does not even know. When she sees Devayani clad in that beautiful red sari ...
But that was given to me by Kacha. It was a present he brought when he came to stay with us. Then he was in love with me! I had also fallen in love with him. It would have been becoming if I had worn the red sari then. But to wear it now when we are no longer in love? No, if I wear it now, the dying embers of that love will flare up again in my mind. He would climb impossible hill slopes in order to collect the flowers which I fancied;
Kacha was led out of the court and beheaded. The guard brought his bloody head in. I put the salver down and danced the love theme round it. Love smiles like a blooming flower and sometimes flares like a fire. Sometimes it twinkles like a star or it strikes like lightning. It may take the form of a tame deer or a vicious cobra! It may rejuvenate or slay. I depicted all this in my dance.
I do not know how long I danced thus. I was intoxicated and could see nothing except Kacha’s head. Blood was oozing from it and I imagined it to be my lover’s head anointed with the auspicious red tilak [1] . I forgot that the head was lifeless. I danced up to it, knelt down and kissed it with the words : ‘Kacha dear, you did not want to kiss me, but there you are, I have you in the end.’
I am still in love with Kacha. How then could I be so cruel? Where do dreams come from? Do they not stem from the mind? Ah! I know now. A dream is like an intricate weave. How did this dream come to my mind —
Kacha used to say that a disciple must observe the vow of purity. He would gather wild flowers for me with unfailing regard but he never put them in my hair. My slightest touch was to him heavenly bliss and he used to come alive for an instant, even with a passing one. But he was constantly on the alert to avoid it.
Or is it that my foolish heart is still in love with him? And the conscious mind hates him? Love and hate. Fire and water.
When will this conflict of the conscious and subconscious end? How foolish, soft and blind is a woman’s heart! Kacha has never even enquired of me since he left. He had achieved Sanjeevani on the plea of my love for him and returned to the realm of the gods. He was hailed there as a great ascetic and hero! The mortal danger to the gods had receded because of him.
Now he can claim any celestial beauty of his choice. Why then should he remember Devayani? Men are so ungrateful! Wily, hard and heartless! Like the birds in a fable, they fly away with the net with ease. As for the women, their hearts are entangled in the invisible web of love and they sit and weep helplessly.
No, I will not sit and fret like other women. I am made of sterner stuff. God has given me beauty and Father has given me intelligence and education.
All of Father’s earlier penance has now come to nought. He is going to undertake another to acquire a different power. I am the daughter of Maharishi Shukracharya, who has risen above the world. I am going to forget Kacha.
No, I am going to banish him from my mind. He has left me with a curse. But how can a true lover curse his beloved? What does it matter if a Brahmin’s son will not marry me? Has the Creator given me all this unique beauty so that I may only bedeck myself with flowers? Is it for nothing that a beauty like Princess Sharmishtha, the King’s daughter, is always envious of me? She must be racking her head as to the clothes she must wear to look prettier than Devayani. On the first day of the spring festivities tomorrow morning, the princess and her friends are going for a picnic in the forest and then go bathing. I am also going for Father’s sake, in that beautiful sari which Kacha brought for me from heaven, when all eyes will be dazzled. I had put it away for a long time specially for these festivities. Sharmishtha probably does not even know. When she sees Devayani clad in that beautiful red sari ...
But that was given to me by Kacha. It was a present he brought when he came to stay with us. Then he was in love with me! I had also fallen in love with him. It would have been becoming if I had worn the red sari then. But to wear it now when we are no longer in love? No, if I wear it now, the dying embers of that love will flare up again in my mind. He would climb impossible hill slopes in order to collect the flowers which I fancied;
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