महावीरचरितम् (महाकवि भवभूति - वीररस-प्रधान रामकथा नाटक सम्पूर्ण ७ अङ्क सटीक)

37] Act II, Daṇḍakā Revisited — Translation [—ii. 19² abounding in [holy] bathing-places and hermitages and moun- tains and rivers—[they] appear to be, familiar as they have been to me, the [same old] regions belonging to the wilderness of Daṇḍakā. 14 Śambūka—Surely this is Daṇḍakā; and—as I have learnt—by Your Majesty when formerly living here— Fourteen thousand Demons, frightful in their deeds, and the three; Dūshaṇa,¹ Khara, and Trimūrdhan, in battle were slain. 15 And hence it was that in such a saintly resort—in this Janasthāna—even timid persons like me could roam at will, apprehending danger from nowhere. Rāma—So, not merely Daṇḍakā, but this is even Janasthāna? Śambūka—Assuredly: For, smiting all creatures with horror—hosts of furious and savage beasts infesting [all] its inaccessible mountain-recesses— there in sooth are those extensive forests outlying the skirts of Janasthāna and stretching [from there] towards the south. For— Noiseless and [profoundly] silent in places; in places resounding to the roarings of ferocious beasts; huge and horrible serpents, stretched out in repose, making with their [fiery] breath [the whole forest] ablaze: these [indeed] are those bordering regions having [very] little water flashing in their clefts, so that the thirsty lizards [must] drink the sweat exuded by [mighty] pythons! 16 Rāma—I do [indeed] behold Janasthāna, once the abode of [the demon] Khara; and as if [happening] just before my eyes those former events I do now experience! 17 Looking carefully all around. Yes (hi): And the daughter of the King of Videha [my Sītā] always loved these woodlands (ārāma). Here, to be sure, are those [very] forests: Than this can anything be more terrible? With tears. 'With thee will I dwell in those dales where the scents are sweet' —[this was her thought, and] with that alone here was she happy—such was her love [for me]! 18 Though doing nothing, by the very joy [of being together] we chase away all sorrow: Indeed it is a treasure indescribable when some one has some one to love. 19 Śambūka—Let us, if you please (tad), turn away from these impenetrable [forests]. But here are these others,—studded with hills that wear the soft tinge of a lusty and tuneful peacock's throat—decked with clusters of ¹ For the names see Introduction, § 18, H and I.

ii. 19²—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [38 young trees thickly planted and yielding an ample and bluish shade—with the numerous herds of deer fearlessly [roaming about] : let the noble one [now] look at these, these serene and awe-inspiring central forests : Here, as the [youth-]intoxicated birds invade the vānīra creepers, the flowers [dropping down into the rillets] suffuse with fragrance their cool and limpid waters;—as the jambū clusters, darkling with the load of ripening fruit, impede [the rillets in] their path, their [broken] currents incessantly murmur : thus do these [mountain-]rillets glide along. 20 Furthermore— Here, of the young bears that have their lairs in [these] caverns, the spluttered growls (ambūkṛita) become augmented by the echoes that they send forth; [and] cool and bitter and pungent as it is, the exuding fragrance of the śallakī¹ branches, torn from their joints and scattered about by [rutting] elephants, is [also] augmented. 21 Rāma, stemming [the flow] of his tears—Friend, happy be your path! May you attain the Course celestial,² leading you on to the Realms of the holy! Śambūka—Meantime I shall do my homage to the ancient Brahman sage, [the venerable] Agastya, before I enter the Abode eternal. Goes out. Rāma—This, once more, is that same, same forest that to-day I behold, [the forest] wherein formerly for many many days we lived [together], as foresters and as householders, duly discharged our [several] duties, [and] knew the taste of [all] the charms of life. 22 Here are those selfsame mountains alive with the cries of peacocks—these the same wooded ridges full of the lustily sportive deer. Here again, vocal with [the rustlings of] the lovely vañjula creepers, are those same river-banks densely fringed with the sable nichula [trees]. 23 And this here that, like a range of clouds, one can well make out even from a distance—this is the mountain Prasravaṇa, where is the river Godāvarī. 24 It was on the mighty crest of this very [mountain] that the king of vultures [Jaṭāyus] had his abode; and at its foot we likewise found our comfort in those leafy cottages. The waters of the ¹ A tree the twigs of which form the favourite so the exudations of śallakī intensify the food of wild elephants. The idea is, as pungent smell of the elephants' rut. the caverns deepen the growls of bears, ² See Note to the passage.

39] Act II, Daṇḍakā Revisited — Translation [—ii. 28³ Godāvarī reflecting the glory of its sombre trees and the birds filling the skies with their incessant warblings—such is this charming woodland [scenery]. 25 And even here is that Pañchavaṭī every spot in which can bear witness, in the course of our long residence, to those manifold expressions of unreserved endearments, and where my dear wife’s dear friend, Vāsantī, [has her abode]. What then is this that has to-day befallen this Rāma? For now— Like the virulent essence of some poison [dormant hitherto but now] after such a long time diffusing itself all over and causing spasms [of acute pain]--like the splinter of an arrow [imbedded in flesh and smarting now] as when, from some cause or other, it is violently shaken—like a [festering] ulcer overgrown with flesh [on the outside but] bursting open in the very vitals of the heart—even so my [long and so to say] solidified grief [now] unmans me as would a recent [grief]. 26 Still, these friends of old—these landscapes here—I will see. Looking [more] closely. Ha! How changed [now] is the aspect of this region!— Where once was the stream [itself], there now are the sands of the rivers; of the sprouting trees (kshiti-ruh) the denseness and the sparseness have exchanged places:¹ This forest, seen after [such] a long time, seems to me like another [forest]—only the unaltered position of the mountains confirms the idea that it is the same! 27 Alas! Though trying to avoid it, my attachment to Pañchavaṭī forcibly draws me, as it were, towards it. With pathos— [That Pañchavaṭī] wherein, in that [blissful] manner, those days with her I passed, and later, in our home, with long talks about which [Pañchavaṭī] we constantly whiled away our time: alone, now, after being the cause of the loss of his dear [wife], how should Rāma, sinful as he is, visit that very same Pañchavaṭī, or how pass on regardless of it? 28 Śambūka, entering—Victory unto Your Majesty! The exalted Agastya hearing from me of your presence [here], sends this word unto you:— ‘Having in readiness all the auspicious preparations for your welcome, the kindly Lopāmudrā awaits you, as do also all the sages [in our neighbourhood]. Come then: honour us [with your visit]. With your swift Pushpaka you can thereafter return to your country in time for the horse-sacrifice.’ ¹ I. e. where the trees were dense, now they are sparse, and vice versa.

ii. 28⁴—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [40 Rāma—As the exalted [Agastya] commands. Śambūka—Let Your Majesty then turn the Pushpaka this way.¹ Rāma—O Pañchavaṭī [of] revered [memory]! Being constrained by [this call from] those to whom deference is due (guru), for a while let this transgression of Rāma be forgiven [him]. Śambūka—Behold, Sire, behold!— [These clumps here—] when in the tiny-nests (kuṭīra) within their bushes the flocks (ghaṭā) of owls do hoot—they constrain the troops of rooks² to silence: these vast stretches (āḍambara) of the melodious (guñjat) bamboo-clumps (stambha) [growing on] this mountain called Krauñchāvata; [this mountain] wherein [also] are to be seen—frightened by the cries of the hovering (prachalat) peacocks—these snakes² climbing in fear around the trunks of ancient sandal trees. 29 Furthermore,— These here, with their caverns rumbling and roaring with the torrents (vāri) of the Godāvarī³—the clouds overhanging their blue and towering peaks—[these] are the lofty Southern ranges. [Here likewise—] with mutual clashings overwhelmed and surging with the tumult of their noisily dashing billows—here are the confluences of these holy and fathomless streams. 30 Exeunt both. END OF ACT II CALLED DAṆḌAKA REVISITED. ¹ It would seem that throughout the act peacocks. Snakes are inordinately fond Rāma was in his aerial car, though it is of sweet-smelling sandal trees. not a necessary supposition. See Notes ³ It is not possible to reproduce in translation for further discussion of the point. the alliteration of the original. It suggests ² Rooks fear the owls as snakes fear the Southey's ‘Lodore’.

ACT III Then enter two River[-goddesses]. First [River-goddess]—Friend Muralā, why do you seem to be in a [great] flurry? Muralā—Honoured Tamasā! I am sent by the exalted Agastya's wife— Lopāmudrā—to say unto the great river Godāvarī as follows: “You already know that ever since [Rāma] abandoned our daughter-in-law [Sītā]— Through the imperturbable gravity [of his nature] carrying concealed within [himself] commotions of intense agony, like an iron-vessel-closed-and-boiling (puṭapāka) is the impassioned grief that Rāma is enduring. 1 So that, born out of that misfortune which befell one that was so dear to him, his long-continued sorrow, now [wellnigh] coming to a climax, has made dear Rāma sadly pine away. As I look upon him my heart seems as if trembling to its [very] root! Now, furthermore, as dear Rāma has once again come here, he would certainly not fail to see these spots in the woodlands of the Pañchavaṭī that could speak to him (sākshin) of those unreserved endearments that he had had in the company of his wife. And in those [spots], firm by nature though he be, still—under such conditions—through the overwhelming emotions of a sorrow settled-and- profound, at every step, it is to be feared, would arise occasions for great mishaps. Do you, therefore, O exalted Godāvarī, be watchful about it: With breezes borne over [your] waves and surcharged with cooling sprays and wafting along the perfumes of [your] lotus- filaments—every time dear Rāma sinks-under-his-grief (mohe)— do you [O Godāvarī] his senses revive, gently, gently fanning him.” 2 Tamasā—This assiduous-care is worthy indeed of the affection [Lopāmudrā bears for Rāma]; but for dear Rāma's revival, the only-natural-remedy- that-there-is (maulika), is here at hand to-day. Muralā—How so? Tamasā—Listen. You-may-not-perhaps-know (kila) that, after abandoning her in the outskirts of Vālmīki's penance-grove, when Lakshmaṇa went back, Queen Sītā—as travail came upon her—in the very vehemence of 6 [H.O.S. 21]

iii. 2⁵—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [42 her pangs, threw herself into the stream of the Ganges; and then, even there, she was delivered of a pair of sons. She was then comforted by [her mother] Earth and the river Jāhnavī¹ [Ganges] and by them taken to the Nether regions. Then as the twins [grew of an age to be] weaned, them the Goddess [of the] Ganges handed over in person to the son of Varuṇa, to the great sage [Vālmīki]. Muralā, with amazement— Of such [as Rāma and Sītā] even an [adverse] turn [of fate] proves to be full of miracles, in that even persons [as exalted] as these [the Earth and the Bhāgīrathī] serve as instruments [to their ends]. 3 Tamasā—And now, in consequence of this affair of Śambūka, [Bhāgīrathī] being led to anticipate, through the [river] Sarayū's² report, that Rāma would come hither to Janasthāna, and, what the exalted Lopāmudrā out of affection [for Rāma] apprehended, apprehensive of the same, the exalted Bhāgīrathī, in the company of Sītā and under pretext of some household rite or other, has come here on a visit to the Godāvarī.³ Muralā—This is a happy thought of the exalted [Bhāgīrathī]. For when indeed [he is] stationed in his capital and engrossed in all those activities conducive to the world's progress, it is possible to keep dear Rāma's mind away [from his grief⁴]; whereas [now] with nothing [else] to occupy [his thoughts] and face-to-face-with naught but his sorrow, this his revisiting of the Pañchavaṭī [will be] an unfailing source of mischief. But how—as-things-stand (idānīm)—is Queen Sītā going to comfort Rāma? Tamasā—Thus spake [unto Sītā] the exalted Goddess Bhāgīrathī: “My child, thou that hast sprung from the [very] sacrificial ground of the Gods, Sītā! To-day, as-you-know (khalu), it being the twelfth birthday of the long-lived ones—of [our] Kuśa and Lava—for their ensuing prosperity (abhivardhate) we must tie the auspicious twelfth (saṅkhyā) knot.⁵ There- fore, unto thy ancient Father-in-law, the Progenitor of all this race of Royal sages beginning with Manu,⁶ [I mean] unto the God Sun, the dispeller

¹ When Bhagīratha brought down the Ganges                  ³ A physical fact, believed even now to occur     (cp. p. 21, note 6, above), the river in its                           at stated intervals : see Notes.     course washed the sacrificial sheds of                       ⁴ Or, it is quite possible to keep dear Rāma's     Jahnu, who in anger drank it all up. At                        mind from running off [to the one subject     Bhagīratha's intercession he let the river                      that harrows him].     out again through his ears. Hence the                       ⁵ A thread tied around the wrist or the arm,     name Jāhnavī.                                                            one knot being added each succeeding ² A tributary of the Ganges: Ayodhyā,                          birthday.     Rāma's capital, is situated on it, and so                       ⁶ The seventh of his name, Son of the Sun,     the river knew what happened in that                        and founder of the Solar race of kings.     city.

43] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 6ᵈ of all that is evil, do thou, with flowers collected by thy own hands, pay thy homage. And as thou wilt tread the surface of the earth—through my sure contrivance (prabhāva)—not even deities shall [be able to] see thee, still less mortals." [Likewise] thus was I commanded : "Tamasā, for you this daughter of Janaka, this [our] dear daughter-in-law, has already con- ceived a great affection; do you, therefore, yourself keep her company." Accordingly I am now going to do what I am bidden. Muralā—And I for my part will [now] unto the exalted Lopāmudrā convey this news. Dear Rāma, I think, is just coming here. Tamasā—And here is she, issuing from the deep basin of the Godāvarī— With her face lovely even in the [very] paleness of its emaciated cheeks and with the braid of hair all dishevelled¹—the very image of Pathos² or like Grief-of-separation incarnate : so unto the woodland goes this daughter of Janaka. 4 Muralā—And this to-be-sure (hi) is she! Her long and remorseless sorrow, parching up the flower of her heart, withers away her body [which is] like a tender sprout torn from its stalk, and all pale and emaciated—as does the autumnal heat the inmost petal of a ketakī flower. 5 Both walk about and go out. END OF INTERLUDE. [Voice,] behind the curtain—O how unfortunate, how unfortunate! Then enters Sītā busied in collecting flowers and listening with pathetic eagerness. Sītā—Ha! I know it is my dear friend Vāsantī that is speaking. [Voice,] behind the curtain— That youngling of an elephant who was [fed] formerly by Queen Sītā with tender śallakī leaves gathered by her own hands, fed as he stood before her fond and expectant— 6 a, b Sītā—[And] what of him ? [Same Voice,] behind the curtain once more— he, sporting in the water in the company of his mate, is busily engaged in combat by a mighty leader of another herd of tuskers, who has in wanton-pride (darpa) assailed him. 6 c, d ¹ A woman in separation does not plait her hair. ² Here, as in several other places, the word Pathos is used in a technical sense. Pathos is one of the eight or nine or ten sentiments that, according to Hindu writers on Rhetoric, should pervade a poetic composition.

iii. 6¹—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [44 Sītā, in flurry advancing a few steps—To his succour, Noble my Lord, to the succour of my fondling! Recollecting, and with dejection. Alas, alas! Those same long-familiar words, at the sight of [this] Pañchavaṭī, come up to my lips—unhappy that I am! Alas, my noble Lord! Swoons. Tamasā, entering—Look up! Courage, my child! [Voice,] behind the curtain—[Stay,] thou best of aerial cars, stay right here! Sītā, recovering, with trepidations of joy—Ha! Like a swollen rain- cloud’s tremulous roar, deep and massive, whence now is this thrilling voice which, as it fills the hollows of my ears, quickly brings even me, the luckless one, back to life? Tamasā, with a tearful smile—What now, my darling? At this sound, indistinct and coming thou knowest not whence, here art thou standing thus startled and eager—as might a pea- hen at a thundering cloud! 7 Sītā—‘Indistinct’—does your ladyship say? [No.] By the tone of voice I do recognize that it is my noble Lord himself who is saying this. Tamasā—It has [indeed] come to our ears that, for laying chastisement upon a Śūdra practising penance, the Royal descendant of Ikshvāku has come to Janasthāna. Sītā—It is happy that [he] fails not in [the discharge of] his kingly duties—the King! [Voice,] behind the curtain— Where trees no less than the deer were my comrades; where long in the company of my beloved I have stayed: here, along the margin of the Godāvarī, are those very same mountain-slopes with many a cave and waterfall. 8 Sītā, observing—Alas! How now? [Is this then,] like the orb of the moon at daybreak, wan and weak and wasted in his look, and only through his own proper mild and serene grandeur recognizable—is this then none other than my noble Lord? [Honoured Tamasā] lend me now your support. Falls in Tamasā’s arms, overwhelmed with emotion. Tamasā, supporting [her]—Take heart, my child, take heart! [Voice,] behind the curtain—Through this sight of Pañchavaṭī— Of the fire of my grief [long] dormant within and now about to blaze forth wildly, this gloom is as it were the column of smoke that, as a precursor [of the coming fire], is now enveloping me. 9 Alas, my dearest! Thou daughter of Janaka! Tamasā, to herself—This it was that the [kind] elders had also dreaded. Sītā, recovering herself—Ha! How comes this?

45] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 12¹⁰ [Voice,] behind the curtain—O Queen, dear companion of [my] residence in the Daṇḍakā forest! Thou daughter of the King of Videha! Sītā—Alas, alas! Calling upon me—ill-starred that I am—and closing his blue eye-lotuses [my Lord] has really swooned! Look, how on the [bare] surface of the earth—all languid and helpless—he is lying out- stretched! Quick, honoured Tamasā, run, run to the rescue: restore my noble Lord to life. Falls at her feet. Tamasā—Do thou, rather, O blessed one, thyself restore the Lord of the world to life. The touch of thy hand carries bliss: on it rests all the burden. 10 Sītā—Be it [then] as it will: As your ladyship commands. Exit in great flurry. Then enters¹ Rāma stretched on the ground and touched by the sorrowing Sītā and reviving and full of joy. Sītā, rather joyfully—I think life seems to have again returned unto the [Lord of the] three worlds! Rāma—Ha! What, in sooth, can this be? Is it, perchance, an anointment of the juice [pressed out] of the [tender] harichandana leaves; or is it rather a sprinkling of [the essence] kneaded out of a sprout of moon-beams? Of the scorching fire of my life the all-allaying [balm], is it an extract from some life-giving herb poured upon my heart? 11 A touch from of old familiar—certainly it is that same, giving life to my soul and [anon] overwhelming it with languor: It hath at once dispelled the gloom which came from my grief, but hath [also] thrown me once more into a lassitude of joy! 12 Sītā, withdrawing in excitement and sorrow—Even this much now for me should more than suffice! Rāma, sitting up—Surely it could not have been my Queen come, out of affection, to favour me? Sītā—Alas, alas! Wherefore [now] should my noble Lord worry himself (maggissadi)² about me? Rāma—Well: I [must] find out. Sītā—Honoured Tamasā, let us depart. Should he see me, for thus approaching him without leave, the King will be ever so much more dis- pleased with me. ¹ 'Is discovered' we should say in modern          of me [if he should find me here, as he     theatrical terms.                                            probably will]? ² Or, what opinion will he have (mantissadi)

iii. 12¹¹—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [46 Tamasā—But don't-you-recollect (ayi), child, that, by virtue of Bhāgīrathi's sure-contrivance (vara), even unto deities thou hast become invisible? Sītā—Ah, yes: so it is. Rāma—Dear Jānakī! Why, I say, my dearest Jānakī! Sītā, [as if] choked with passion—Noble my Lord! Inconsistent this really is with all that has happened! With tears. Or rather, wherefore, when I have [here] obtained, as if in another life, this sight of him that I should never have aspired to attain; [wherefore] at a time when towards one so ill-starred as I am, he is so brimful of affection and kind words: [wherefore,] hard as adamant though I be, should I against my noble Lord be so relentless? For, I know his heart, and he knows mine. Rāma, looking in all directions, with dejection—Why! nobody here! Sītā—Honoured Tamasā! Although the author of my causeless banishment, still, as I see him in this his plight, I know not what sort of emotions surge foremost (anubandha) in my heart. Tamasā—I know it, child, I know it: Apathetic through despair and yet stirred with a sense for thy wrongs; in this long long separation as if forthwith ardent for reunion: gracious in thy [innate] goodness and filled to its depths with pity for thy dear Lord's piteous plight, and melting in affection—thus now, meseems (iva), all in a moment thy heart has become. 13 Rāma—Queen! Like a favour incarnate, thy touch, cool and full of affection,— even now it bedews me with joy: but where art thou, thou my Joy? 14 Sītā—These, in sooth, revealing the treasure (sambhāra) of an affection inward and unfathomed, [and] overflowing [me] with joy—these words of my noble Lord I have [once again] heard: [words] which, as I drink them in (jāṇaṁ pachchaeṇa) now—though the barb of my unmerited abandon- ment still rankles within [my heart]—they make me prize this my life [so] highly. Rāma—No (athavā), it could not by any chance be my dearest. Verily, springing out of the perfection of his practised meditation [on her], this must be Rāma's illusion.¹ [Voice,] behind the curtain—Oh, how unfortunate, how unfortunate! That youngling of an elephant who was [fed] formerly by Queen Sītā with tender śallakī leaves gathered by her own hands, fed as he stood before her fond and expectant— 15 a, b ¹ I. e. thinking too intently upon an object you get a hallucination of the same.

47] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 16ᵇ Rāma, with sympathetic eagerness—Well, what of him? [Same Voice,] behind the curtain, once more— he, sporting in the water in the company of his mate, is busily engaged in combat by a mighty leader of another herd of tuskers, who has in wanton-pride (darpa) assailed him. 15 c, d Sītā—Who now will succour him? Rāma—Where, where is that wicked [beast] that is assailing one who was as a son unto my dear wife—and that too while he is enjoying his mate's company? Rises. Vāsantī, entering, greatly agitated—How! Is it the King, the joy of Raghu's race? Sītā—Why! It is my dear friend, Vāsantī! Vāsantī—Victory attend Your Majesty! Rāma, observing [her]—Who! My Queen's dear friend, Vāsantī? Vāsantī—Haste, Sire, haste: along this way, south of Jaṭāyu's peak, past [what they call] Sītā's Ford, do you descend down to Godāvarī's bank and honour [by your visit] the Queen's [foster-]son, [the elephant]. Sītā—Alas, father Jaṭāyu! Void without thee ¹ [now must be] this Jana- sthāna! Rāma—Alas! They really tear the [very] vitals of my heart—these familiar allusions! Vāsantī—This, this way, Sire! Sītā—Honoured [Tamasā]! And is it indeed true that even sylvan deities can't see me? ² Tamasā—Knowest thou not (ayi), darling, that superior by far to [that of] ⎫ all other divinities is the power of the divine Mandākinī [Ganges]? Why ⎬ dost thou fear then? ⎭ Sītā—In that case—let us go after [them]. [Sītā and Tamasā] walk about. Rāma—My homage to thee, exalted Godāvarī! Vāsantī, observing—Sire! Rejoice at the victory [gained] by the Queen's [foster-]son [that is there] in the company of his mate. Rāma—May victory and long life attend him! Sītā—Oh! And has he grown thus [big]! Rāma—Queen! Here is something to be glad of— With his tapering tusks, just sprouting and soft like fibres of lotus, [he] who used to pull, O fair-bodied one, the lavalī leaves ¹ See note 2, page 24, above. invisible to Rāma and Vāsantī. The poet ² It is necessary to bear in mind that through- himself draws our attention to this fact out this Act Sītā and Tamasā remain whenever we seem most near forgetting it.

iii. 16ᵇ—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [48 that decked thy ears¹—this [is he] that [foster-]son of thine, [now] a vanquisher of sturdy and rutting elephants, by whom, what in growing youth is a bliss, that ² has already been achieved. 16 Sītā—Only, unseparated from this his gentle-looking mate ³ may he for ever live! Rāma—Look, friend Vāsantī, look! The youngster has even learnt—though only by half—the art of courting his mate's favour!— When the bunches of lotus stalks, in frolic uprooted, had been [by her] bitten off, he transferred [unto his mate] trunkfuls of water perfumed with the blooming lotuses; then indeed a bath from the sprays of his trunk he gave her, but, when through with that, he has not, in his affection, [pulled out] a straight stalk of lotus, [leaf and all, and] held [it] as a sunshade over her. 17 Sītā—Honoured Tamasā, thus now has this one grown up: but the other two—through all this [long] time—my Kuśa and Lava, I know not how [big] they have grown. Tamasā—As this one here, so likewise those two [sons]. Sītā—Thus ill-starred am I that [I am condemned] not merely [to] an eternal separation from my noble Lord but even [to] a separation from my sons! Tamasā—Thus Fate hath decreed. Sītā—And why have I given birth unto sons [at all], if, of both of them, so [lovable] as they are, those unspotted lotus-like faces—with cheeks bloom- ing by reason of their teeth, tender, white, and rather sparse—rippling with a laugh charming and musical—and [decked] with little locks plaited over their ears and forehead—if [their faces] my noble Lord has not kissed? Tamasā—May it so happen by the favour of the Gods! Sītā—Honoured Tamasā! Now, as I am fondly (saṁ) thinking of my sons, my bosom heaves and longs to suckle them; and, with their father ⁴ here by me, I feel as if—just for a moment—I were restored to my domestic felicity! Tamasā—Needs this to be said? A child is the utmost perfection of the love [between man and wife]. It is the closest link that can hold them together: As being the meeting-ground (saṁśraya) for the mother's and

¹ The young elephant was then only of a man's height. ² I. e. love and triumphant valour. ³ A characteristic benediction! ⁴ This mode of referring to the husband, says one of the commentators, indicates that the author was a Dravidian. The inference does not, however, hold.

49] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 22³ the father’s affection, in a child we [so to say] tie in a [common] knot of joy [the several strands of] their inmost hearts. 18 Vāsantī—And this way, likewise, let Your Majesty turn his eye: He, in the full intoxication [of his youth], has ended [with a flourish] his mirthful dance, this peacock, whose smooth and wavy feathers have [only] recently sprouted forth—here [he is now] with his expansive plumage [sitting,] like a jewelled coronet, on the top of this kadamba tree, [and] rejoicing in the company of his mate. 19 Sītā, in curiosity and with tears—This is he! Rāma—Rejoice, darling! [Ever] rejoice! Sītā—So be it! Rāma—At each of thy whirlings, [O peacock,] her eyes, rolling around¹ within the lids, had their charm enhanced by the skilful dancings of her tremulous eyebrows, as she, [my wife,] in the fondness of her heart (mugdhayā) taught thee to dance, keeping time by the clapping of her hands, delicate like a sprout—thus it is [O peacock] that I think on thee, as on a son, with a mind brimful of affection. 20 Why! Even animals² remember (anurudhyante) old friendships!— That kadamba tree, displaying just a sprinkling (katipaya) of flowers, which my dearest had once reared up;— 21 a, b Sītā, observing, with tears—Rightly [indeed] has my noble Lord recognized [the tree]. Rāma—[that kadamba,] this mountain-peacock remembers as [having been [once] favourite to the Queen: hence it is that on ['it he is feeling merry. 21 c, d Vāsantī—Here, in the meantime, let Your Majesty take a seat: This here, situated in the middle of the kadalī grove, [this] is that same slab of stone which did duty as a bed for you and your wife; and because, sitting here, Sītā would give frequent '[morsels of] grass to the deer, therefore [those fondlings] refused [ever] to leave her [alone]! 22 Rāma—This, I cannot [even] endure its sight [now]. Sits elsewhere, weeping. Sītā—Friend Vāsantī! What hast thou achieved by showing this [place] to my noble Lord and to myself? Alas, alas! Here [now] is my noble Lord [ever] the same; here the same Pañchavaṭī grove; and here the ¹ To follow the circular movements of the ² Cp. Jātaka, No. 156, story of the grateful dance. elephant. [C. R. L.] 7 [H.O.S. 21]

iii. 22³—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [50 selfsame dear companion of mine—Vāsantī. Here [likewise] are these [mute] witnesses to our varied and confidential intercourse—these woodland spots on [the banks of] the Godāvarī: and these [again] are the very same deer and birds and trees—all esteemed by us like our own children. To me, however, though present before my [very] eyes, they are all—such is my fate—no better than non-existing! Such then are [some of] the vicissitudes of this world of mortals! Vāsantī—Sītā, my friend! Dost thou not notice [thy] Rāma's condition ?¹ With his limbs lovely like the petals of a blue lotus, he [formerly] used to cause supreme delight to [thy] eyes; and, although thou couldst see him always and at will, he did [then] look new and ever newer to thee: But [now] here he is with his limbs all lifeless, overspread with pallor, and extremely (pari) enfeebled by grief; not without difficulty can he be recognized as the same, though he [to be sure] still continues to delight [our] sight. 23 Sītā—I see it, my friend, I do see it. Tamasā—Mayest thou, [my dear] daughter, see what is dear² to thee ! Sītā—Alas, [cruel] Fate! He without me and I without him—would any one [ever] have thought this possible? Let me therefore—just for a moment and through my tears—take a look at my noble and loving Lord, whom I, as if in a second birth,³ am able [here] to behold. Remains looking [at him]. Tamasā, embracing [Sītā], with tears of affection— Floating in an overwhelming flood of tears both of joy and of sorrow and wide open in thy eagerness [to see him], thy eyes (dṛiṣhṭi) seem as it were to bathe the Lord of thy heart in an overflow of affection—as [if by] a stream of milk, white and copious and charming. 24 Vāsantī—Let trees, with flowers and fruits that drip with their [sweetest] juices, yield an offering [unto Rāma]—surcharged with the fragrance of full-blown lotuses, let breezes blow over the dales—let the [youthful and] full-throated birds pour forth their incessant melodies—for here, once more, unto this forest, has our Lord Rāma himself returned. 25 Rāma—Come, dear Vāsantī! Won't you take a seat here? ¹ Vāsantī purposely assumes ignorance as to ³ It was in an earlier life, as it were, that Sītā's fate. I was his wife and he my Lord : so ² Either i. her husband's face or ii. a termi- changed are our present relations. nation of her sorrows.

51] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 28¹ Vāsantī, seating herself, with tears—My liege Lord! Is dear Lakshmaṇa doing well ? Rāma, pretending not to hear— With water and wild-rice and grass—offered with her own lotus- like hands—these trees and birds and deer¹ that the daughter of the King of Mithilā² [once] used to feed: as I sight them [now] an indescribable emotion wells up within me; [an emotion] that, like an oozing [in some rock], must end (yogya) by breaking my heart [in twain]. 26 Vāsantī—I was asking, My liege Lord, Is it all well with dear Lakshmaṇa ? Rāma, to himself—Ah! ‘My liege Lord’ [is] a mode of address devoid of cordiality and her inquiry referred to the son of Sumitrā [Lakshmaṇa] only; her voice [too was choked] with tears [and] faltered: so I fear she already knows the news about Sītā. Aloud. Ah, yes: Prince Lakshmaṇa is doing well. Sobs. Vāsantī—Why, O King, why art thou [so, so] cruel ? Sītā—And what art thou, dear Vāsantī, when thou couldst reproach [him] thus ? My noble Lord certainly deserves kind consideration from all—and particularly from my dear friend. Vāsantī—“Thou [art] my life; thou art my second heart; thou the moon-light of my eyes: thou the [immortal] ambrosia to my body”—with these and hundreds of other endearments her simple- and-loving (mugdhā) soul thou didst beguile; and her now—alas! why utter the rest? 27 Faints. Tamasā—Quite natural indeed that [thus] she should break off in her speech and faint away. Rāma—Compose thyself, friend, compose thyself. Vāsantī, recovering—Wherefore, then, has Your Majesty done this un- worthy deed ? Sītā—Desist, dear Vāsantī, desist. Rāma—Because the people would not put up with it. Vāsantī—And why ? Rāma—They themselves know—I-know-not-what (kimapi). Vāsantī—O thou hard-hearted one! Is it honour that you profess (kila) to hold dear? What dishonour I ask (nanu) is more dreadful than this? And what, in that forest, may have been the fate of that fawn-eyed one [your wife]? Alas! Tell me, My Lord, what do you think about it? 28 Tamasā—After a [very] long time [indeed comes] this reproof! ¹ Respectively. ² Mithilā was the capital of King Janaka.

iii. 28²—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [52 Sītā—Friend Vāsantī! 'Tis thou that art terrible—that art cruel, in that thou dost thus fan [his] flames.¹ Tamasā—It is thy love [for thy Lord] that thus speaks—[thy love] and thy grief. Rāma—Dear friend! What [else] could any one think about it? She whose eyes were tremulous like those of a fawn, just a year old, [when it is] taken with fright, [and who was] languid with the quick and throbbing burden in her womb—her dear creeper- like form, [a form that was] as if the very quintessence (mayī) of moon-beams and [delicate] like a soft and lovely lotus—[her form] the flesh-eating Monsters must certainly have swallowed up. 29 Sītā—I am still alive, dear my Lord, still alive! Rāma—Alas, dearest! Thou daughter of Janaka, where art thou?² Sītā—Alas, alas, that even my noble Lord, in the fullness of his heart, should cry aloud! Tamasā—This, my child, is nothing but proper. Those in grief must [at times] give vent to their grief: For— When put to a strain by the flood, for a tank, an overflow is the [only] remedy; so, when agitated by grief, the heart only through laments is restrained-from-breaking (avadhāryate). 30 And especially for [our] dear Rāma this world of life has been full of unusually great and manifold troubles: This entire world he has to protect assiduously and in [strict] conformity with the law; [then there is] this sorrow for his beloved, which withers, like heat, the flower of his life; having himself brought about [his wife's] abandonment, what relief there is in lamentations, even that is not easy for him: still he continues to draw his breath [in this world]—is not weeping then a real gain? 31 Rāma—Oh, these torments! My heart with its intense tumults [of grief] is near to bursting, but it [will] not break in twain; this shattered frame succumbs [again and again] to a swoon, but it [will] not part with con- sciousness; an inward anguish burns my body, but [will] not consume it to ashes: Fate strikes me down and pierces my vitals, but [will] not cut this life away! 32 Sītā—So it is [even with me]! Rāma—Ye my worthy citizens and subjects! ¹ Dost increase his sorrow. ² See page 47, note 2, above.

53] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 37³ When I indeed knew (kila) that you did not wish my Queen to stay in the house, her, like mere chaff, in that void wilderness, I abandoned, and not even so much as mourned! [But] these scenes long familiar [unto me]—[they] have to-day set my heart melting, so that in sheer helplessness—forgive me [my people]— I am here—weeping! 33 Tamasā—Deep is the roar of this ocean of grief. Vāsantī—My Lord! As matters that have been, it behoves you to endure [them] with courage. Rāma—What is it you say, friend!—courage? Since when this world was deprived of its Queen, this is the twelfth year: Even her very name seems to have vanished quite: and yet Rāma has not ceased to be! 34 Sītā—These words of my noble Lord—by them I am beguiled [into forget- fulness of my own grief]. Tamasā—And no wonder, my child! These words, brimful of affection [but withal] terrible by reason of grief—it is not an unmixed pleasure (priyatama) that they bring thee: they are streams of honey and poison a-dripping upon thee. 35 Rāma—And [furthermore,] Vāsantī, have I not indeed— [This dart that] like a glowing spear-head driven deep and athwart, or like a fang of venom—this pointed dart of grief [that rankles] within my heart [and] tears my vitals to pieces: [have I not then patiently] endured it? 36 Sītā—Such is my hard lot that I am once more¹ a cause of trouble to my noble Lord. Rāma—Although, therefore, [by an extreme effort] I have firmly restrained my mind, still to-day the sight of these various familiar scenes has thus overpowered me. For— To stem the swelling commotions of this wild and tumultuous heart, every single effort that I somehow bring to bear upon it— all those [efforts], one after another, some mysterious impulse within breaks forcibly through, and gains ground for itself (prasarati), as would a torrent of water a dam of sand—[a torrent when] unchecked in its course. 37 Sītā—This my noble Lord's outburst of grief [that is] growing (ārambha) more and more alarmingly irresistible, it has revived the [smouldering] grief of my own heart and makes it tremble [in agitation]. ¹ The earlier occasion was when she was    fight and win her back.    abducted by Rāvaṇa, and Rāma had to

iii. 37⁴—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [54 Vāsantī, to herself—To a piteous plight has His Majesty come; let me, therefore, create a diversion. Aloud. Will now Your Majesty [be pleased to] have a look at these [sights] long familiar [to him]—these spots in the Janasthāna? Rāma—So be it. Rises and walks about. Sītā—The very things that would inflame the sorrow, my dear friend [Vāsantī] conceives [them] as remedies to allay it! Vāsantī, with pathos—Sire, Sire! It was under this, this very bower of creepers that once you stood, your eyes watching [expectant] for her return; while she, attracted by the sight of the [sporting] swans, tarried a little longer [than usual] on the sands of the Godāvarī. But as she returned, observing your slight displeasure, at once did she fold, in tremor, her supplicant hands—[hands that were] graceful like a bud of [red] lotus! 38 Sītā—Oh, cruel, cruel art thou, Vāsantī, in that with these thy efforts to drive the darts deeper and more firmly into the vitals of the heart, thou art again and again making my noble Lord remember me—ill- starred that I am! Rāma—O thou ruthless one, thou daughter of Janaka! I seem to see thee here and there [and everywhere], and yet thou wouldst have no pity on me! Alas, alas, O Queen! My heart is bursting asunder; the frame of my body is flying to pieces; all void seems [now] this world to me; an incessant flame [of anguish] from within, inflames me; immersed in utter darkness, this lonely soul within me seems to plunge down [in deep despair]: an all-overspreading stupor paralyses me—O miserable wretch that I am, what can I do? 39 (Faints.) Sītā—Alas, alas! Once again my noble Lord has fainted! Vāsantī—Be comforted, Sire, be comforted. Sītā—Alas, My noble Lord! That for the sake of me, the ill-starred one, thou on whose blessed life (jammalābha) rests the happiness of this entire living world, [that thou] shouldst be reduced to such a terrible plight and that thy very life should be in frequent danger!—Wretch, wretch that I am. (Faints.) Tamasā—Take heart, take heart, my child! Once again it is the touch of thy hand that is the only remedy for bringing dear Rāma to life. Vāsantī—How now, he does not yet recover! Sītā, my dear friend! Where art thou, alas! Come and rescue this Lord of thy life.

55] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 41ᶜ Sītā in excitement approaches [Rāma] and touches his heart and forehead. Vāsantī—Happily dear¹ Rāma has come to life again! Rāma—[This touch,] as if anointing with ambrosial anointments, both within and without, all the tissues of my body—this touch that has [just] brought me to life—once again, it has, all of a sudden, produced, through joy, an infatuation in me—[only] of a different kind. 40 With eyes still closed in joy. Friend Vāsantī! Here is a matter for rejoicing. Vāsantī—And what may it be? Rāma—What else, my friend? She has returned—the daughter of Janaka! Vāsantī—Why, my dear Rāma, where is she? Rāma, enjoying the felicitous touch—Look! Is not she just here in front? Vāsantī—Wherefore, my dear (ayi), [wherefore,] with these frightful excesses of thy ravings that pierce the very vitals, dost thou again [and again] burn me [in anguish], ill-starred that I am, and already burnt up with [the sorrow consequent upon] the sufferings of my dear friend [Sītā]? Sītā—I do wish to withdraw: but this my noble Lord's touch, gentle and cooling by reason of his enduring affection, has all of a sudden allayed even my long and cruel grief, and has held fast, as if with adamantine cement, [this] my moist and powerless hand, [causing it] to tremble in helplessness. Rāma—No: not ‘ravings’, my friend! That [hand,] begirt with bracelet, which formerly, at the time of marriage, I had held [in mine], and which, since then, through all that long time, had been familiar to me by its cooling and ambrosial touch—[touch] that was [once, alas!] mine for the asking— 41 a, b Sītā—Noble my Lord! Thou art [ever] the same—[then and] now! Rāma—that same hand of hers, resembling a tender stalk of lavalī but most happily compared [only] with her own other hand— that hand here I have grasped. 41 c, d Seizes it. Sītā—Oh, fie! Carried away by my noble Lord’s touch I have really committed a blunder! Rāma—Friend Vāsantī! With my eyes (indriya) closed in [the ecstasy of my] joy and in my [present] excited state I am [no longer] master of myself: Do you therefore hold her likewise. Vāsantī—Why! This is sheer madness! ¹ This is the first time in this Act that Vāsantī uses this familiar mode of address.

iii. 41⁷—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [56 Sītā hastily snatches away [her hand] and stands aloof. Rāma—Oh, fie! What a folly! That hand of hers, [tender] like foliage and tremulous and per- spiring¹—[that hand], in my listlessness, I have all of a sudden let slip from my own hand, [no less] tremulous and perspiring! 42 Sītā—Why, alas! Even yet—with his eyes [now] inert [and now] rolling unsteadily all about—he has not yet regained his composure! Tamasā, observing [Sītā], with affection— With a thrill of joy over her moist and tremulous body, my dear child [Sītā] has, at her dear Lord's touch, become like a branch of kadamba, blooming with buds as when washed by early showers and shaken by [gentle] breezes. 43 Sītā, to herself—Why! For this loss of self-control I have really been put to shame by the honoured Tamasā! What indeed will she think [of me but this]?—Such [was] thy abandonment and such [is] thy [persistent] attachment! Rāma, looking all about [him]—Alas! Is she then really not there? ² Why, I say, thou pitiless daughter of the King of Videha! Sītā—Pitiless I certainly must be, in that, seeing thee in this thy plight, I yet continue to live. Rāma—Where then art thou, Queen? Take pity on me! Do not, I beg, abandon me in this plight! Sītā—Why, noble my Lord! Quite otherwise stand the facts! ³ Vāsantī—Please, Sire, with your own proper all-transcendent courage, do, I beg you, restrain-and-compose yourself; your self-deception has gone beyond all bounds. How, [how] could my dear friend [Sītā] have been here? Rāma—Clearly then she is not here; otherwise how could even Vāsantī have failed to see her? Can this then have been a dream? But I was not dreaming; for, sleep has fled [long] away from Rāma! Undoubtedly then this must be that almighty Self-deception which was induced by my repeated meditations [upon her] and which persistently clings to me. Sītā—'Tis I then, the ruthless one, that have caused his deception! Vāsantī—Behold, Sire! Broken to pieces by Jaṭāyus, here is the iron-chariot of the grand- son of Pulastya [Rāvaṇa]. Behold these, in front [of the chariot], the bony remains of the goblin-faced donkeys.⁴ Here on this side are the wings of Jaṭāyu clipped off by [Rāvaṇa's] sword. ¹ When the hands of lovers meet, perspira- ² Cp. page 47, note 2. tion at the finger-tips is one of the signs ³ It is you that have abandoned me. of their love—such is the poetic con- ⁴ Yoked to Rāvaṇa's chariot. vention.