A Syrup of the Bees Part 3

[Footnote 28: The English reader may be puzzled by the difficulty: how a Widyadhari could ever be a woman. But it is very simple on Hindoo principles. Widyadharas are constantly falling into human bodies by reason of curses, or guilt contracted.]

Then said Makarandika: Thou art not absolutely wrong: for I am not a woman of the earth, but a Widyadhari, by name Makarandika. And by and bye I will tell thee all about myself, and my coming here, to rediscover and regain thee; and learn of thee thine. But in the meanwhile, come outside this gloomy temple into the moonlight, where I can see thee. And she drew him out of the temple, and as they stood, looking at one another, she said: Dost thou know, that I am paying a great price for thee? See, a little while ago, I came hither flying through the air. And as I came, I said to myself, with regret: I am flying for the very last time: for to-morrow I shall forfeit all my magic sciences, by marrying a mortal. And as my resolution wavered, at that very moment, I arrived, and saw thee, lying asleep in the moonlight, at the feet of Maheshwara yonder on the wall. And instantly, I exclaimed: Away with these miserable sciences, for what are they worth in comparison with him, or, worse, without him?

And Arunodaya exclaimed: What! wilt thou sacrifice all thy condition as a Widyadhari for such a one as me? Out, out, upon such a price, for such a worthless ware!

And for answer, she took his hand, and put it on her heart, looking at him with eyes that shone not only with moonlight, but with a tear. And Arunodaya said, with emphasis: Thou must be my wife: for how could I think, having seen thee, of any other woman in the world, even in a dream.

And as he spoke, he started, almost uttering a cry. For suddenly she clenched the hand she held with a grip that almost hurt it, and he felt the heart it lay on suddenly leap, as it were, and stop. And as he looked at her in wonder, he saw her turning paler and paler, till she seemed in that white moonlight about to become a stone image, in imitation of ours, just behind her, on the wall.

And he said in alarm: Art thou ill, or suffering, or what? Or dost thou regret thy sciences? And then, all at once, she laughed, and said: My sciences? Nay, nay, it is not that, of which I am afraid. Come, it is nothing, and what am I but a fool? Let us go now to thy palace: and see, I will exert my power, for the very last time, in thy favour, and carry thee through the air. And she sat down on the step, saying: Come, thou art rather a large and a clumsy baby: yet sit thou on my lap. And she took him in her arms, and rose with him into the air, and they floated over the sea towards the palace, resembling for the moment myself and thee roaming in the sky.

And as they went, Arunodaya said within himself: Surely I am only dreaming; and of what is this Widyadhari made, that has claimed me for her own? Is it fire or something else?

But Makarandika, as they floated, said to herself in ecstasy and exultation: Now, then, I have got him, and it will be my own fault, if I cannot so utterly bewitch him, as to cause him to forget all about his former wife, and take me, as why should I not have been? for her. And what do I care for her? For she may be the wife of that birth, but I am the wife of this. And why should the wife of the present count for less than the wife of the past?

III

A DISJUNCTIVE CONJUNCTION

I

Now, in the meanwhile, it happened, that when all the other Widyadhara would-be bridegrooms had broken up and gone away in wrath, disgusted at being turned to shame by Makarandika's rejection, there was one who went away with a heart that was more than half broken, for Makarandika was dearer to him than his own soul. And he would have given the three worlds to have had the precious garland put round his own neck. And when all was over, he took himself off, and remained a long while buried in dejection on the slopes of the Snowy Mountain, pining like a _chakrawaka_ at night-time for his mate, and striving to forget her,--all in vain: for his name was Smaradasa,[29] and his nature like his name. And at last, unable to endure the fiery torture of separation any longer, he said to himself: I will return, on the pretext of paying a visit to her father; and there, it may be, I shall at least get a sight of her. And who knows but that she may change her mind? for women after all are not like rocks, but skies. And at the thought, hope suddenly arose, reborn in his heart. For disconsolate lovers are like dry chips or straws, easily taking fire, and tossed here and there by the gusts of hope and desperation.

[Footnote 29: i.e. _the slave of love, or recollection_.]

So as he thought, he did. But when he arrived at Mahidhara's home, and inquired about her, he received an answer that struck him like a thunderbolt. For Mahidhara said: As for Makarandika, she has utterly disappeared, having gone somewhere or other, n.o.body knows where. And if, as I conjecture, she is looking for a husband among mortals, who will never even dream of any other woman than herself, she will not soon return. For it will be long before she finds him.

And then, that unhappy Smaradasa said to himself: I will find her, no matter how long it may take me, if at least she is able to be found. So after meditating for a while, he went away to seek a.s.sistance from the brother of the Dawn. And he said to him: O Garuda,[30] I am come to thee for refuge. And it is but a little thing that I ask, and very easy, for the Lord of all the birds of the air. There is a Widyadhari named Makarandika, who is dearer to me than life itself. Help me, if thou wilt, to discover where she is: for she has disappeared, without leaving any trace.

[Footnote 30: The King of Birds. (The final _a_ is mute.)]

Thereupon Garuda said: Stay with me for a little in the meanwhile, till I see what I can do. And he summoned all the sea-birds and the vultures in the world; and said to them: Go to the eight quarters of heaven, and find out what has become of Makarandika, a Widyadhari who is lost.

So then, after a few days, they returned. And their spokesman, who was a very old vulture named Dirghadars.h.i.+,[31] said: Lord, this has been a very simple thing. For some of my people saw her, a little while ago, flying westwards. And following her track, on thy order, they saw her sitting on the palace roof of King Arunodaya, who has married her, and made her his queen.

[Footnote 31: i.e. _long-sighted_.]

And instantly, hearing this news, which pierced his ear like a poisoned needle, Smaradasa uttered a loud cry, and fell down in a swoon: so great was the shock, that turned in the twinkling of an eye all the love in his soul to jealousy and hate. And when, with difficulty, he came to himself, he hurried away so fast that he forgot even to wors.h.i.+p Garuda.

But that kindly deity only laughed, and forgave him, saying: Well might he forget not me only, but everything in the three worlds, on learning that his love was lying in somebody else's arms.

But Smaradasa summoned instantly all his brother suitors. And he told them all about it, and he said: This matter is no longer what it was.

For if she flouted us all, by refusing to choose a husband from among us, yet no one could compel her, since she did but exercise the privilege of all kings' daughters. But now, not only has she placed this mortal above us all, but by marrying beneath her caste, she has degraded all the Widyadharas at once, and broken the const.i.tution of the universe. Therefore she deserves to be punished. Moreover, she is at our mercy, since she has lost all her magic sciences, by marrying a man.

So then, when they had all unanimously p.r.o.nounced her worthy of death, one suggesting one death, and another another, Smaradasa said scornfully: What is the use of putting her to death? For death is absolutely no punishment at all, since she will abandon one body only to enter another. Rather let us find some punishment suited to her crime, and worse than any death. And the best way would be, to contrive some means of making her behaviour recoil upon her own head. And this could be done, if only we could get this husband she has chosen to desert her for another. For as a rule, a rival is like _kalakuta_ poison to every woman: and she is not only jealous, but as it were jealousy itself. And thus she would become her own punishment. But first let us discover all about her: for then we can determine how to go to work.

So, when they all consented, Smaradasa went back to Garuda, and he said: O Enemy of Snakes, do me one more favour, and I will trouble thee no more. Find out for me only, how matters stand with her husband and herself: since her independent conduct is a matter of concern to all the Widyadharas, of whom she is one.

And Garuda said: Smaradasa, this commission is very different from the first. For if I am not mistaken, the Widyadharas mean mischief, and it is no business of mine. And yet, I will not do thee kindness by halves: but let this be the last. So after meditating for a while, he sent for the crows. And he said to them: Crows, you know everything about everybody, and see the world, and fly about the streets of cities, and eat the daily offerings,[32] and listen to all the scandal of the bazaars, and penetrate even into the palaces of kings. Go, then, to the city of Arunodaya, and spy about and listen, and bring back a full account of all you can discover, about him and his wife.

[Footnote 32: _Balibuk, an eater of daily offerings_, is a common epithet of the crow.]

And, after a week, the crows returned. And their spokesman, who was called Kalapaksha,[33] said: Lord, this King and Queen are never apart, being as inseparable as Ardhanari.[34] And as for Makarandika, it is clear that she is a _patidewata_, who loves her husband more than her own soul. And though he has nothing to do with any woman but herself, yet something is wrong, though we cannot discover what it is. But the citizens think that she is jealous, because she suspects that he is always dreaming, not of her, but the wife of his former birth.

[Footnote 33: Meaning either _black-wings, the dark half of the lunar month_, or _time-server_.]

[Footnote 34: The combined form of Maheshwara and his "other half."]

And as Smaradasa listened, he exclaimed in delight: Ha! what difficulty is there in doing a thing which is half done already? For this is a situation which will ripen almost without a.s.sistance, resembling as it does a balance already trembling, in which the addition of a single hair will turn the scale. And it wants only a touch, for Makarandika to turn her suspicions into certainties of her own accord. And thus she will become the instrument of her own torture, and expiate her error, the victim of her own choice, with n.o.body but herself to blame. For she was a Widyadhari, and is absolutely inexcusable.

II

And meanwhile Makarandika, ignorant and careless of all that was occurring in that world of the Widyadharas which she had thrown away like a blade of gra.s.s, and utterly forgotten, was living like a siddha in a moon without a spot, having, so to say, attained emanc.i.p.ation in the form of the husband of her own choice. And for his part, Arunodaya, having lit upon the very wife of his former birth, contrary to expectation, and married her again, lived with her like one plunged for an instant in an ocean of intoxication, salt as her beauty[35] and infinite as her devotion, and unfathomable as her eyes. And for a while, he seemed to be the very image of a bee drowned in the honey of a red lotus, or a _chakora_ surfeited with the beams of a young moon. And in order to make up to Makarandika, and console her for the loss of her power of flying through the air, which of all her sciences she most regretted, he built for her innumerable swings, with gold and silver chains, and one, that she loved the best, on the very roof she first arrived on. And she used to pa.s.s her time in it, whenever she had nothing else to do, swinging softly to and fro, and looking across the sea; tasting, by means of the swing and her own imagination, some vestige of her lost equality with all the birds of heaven. And though she never so much as whispered it aloud, yet sometimes, her unutterable longing to possess once more that power which she had lost for ever, as she watched the sea-birds flying, brought tears into her eyes, which she never let Arunodaya see.

[Footnote 35: A play on words, _salt_ and _beauty_ being the same (_lawanya_).]

And yet, though she had utterly lost all her magic sciences, she still retained the whole of that other magic, which the Creator has not limited only to Widyadharis, of feminine fascination. And like the moon, she was a very bundle of bewitching arts,[36] whose potency was doubled by the intensity of her affection for her lord. For a woman who does not feel affection for her own husband resembles a sunset from which the sun and all his redness are withdrawn.

[Footnote 36: _Kala_ means _arts_ as well as _digits_.]

And she was, moreover, so absolutely bent upon erasing from his recollection every vestige of the dim image of the wife of his former birth, for whom she had subst.i.tuted herself, like a new moon eclipsing an old one, that she thought of nothing else: and the thought of this former wife resembled a thorn that was fixed ineradicably in her own heart. And she busied herself all day and night, in occupying his whole attention, and laying snares for his soul, by dancing, and singing, and telling him innumerable stories, and making as it were slaves of all his senses, enthralling his eyes with the variety of her beauty, and captivating his ears with the sorcery of her voice, and chaining his desires to herself by never-ending wiles of caressing attention, in the form of embraces of soft arms, and kisses like snowflakes, and glances shot at him out the very corner of her eye, enveloping him with such a mist of the essence of a woman's sweetness as to keep him from seeing any other thing at all. For her Widyadhari nature gave to all her behaviour grace that was far beyond the reach of any ordinary mortal, and she seemed like an incarnation of femininity, divested of all the grossness and clumsy imperfection that it carries when mixed with the element of death, so that her touch seemed softer, and her step seemed lighter, and her outline rounder, and her smile far sweeter and her pa.s.sion purer, and her whole love ecstasy deeper and truer than any woman's could ever be.

But as for the prime minister, when he came, according to agreement, and Arunodaya showed her to him on the day of the full moon, he was so utterly bewildered by the very sight of her that she turned him as it were to stone. And after staring at her in stupefaction, being wholly bereft of appropriate speech, and as it were deserted by his reason, which lay prostrate at her little golden-bangled feet, he went away in silence. And after a long while, he said to himself as he sat alone: Beyond a doubt, this inexplicable King has somehow or other managed to find a very miracle of a queen, as far as beauty goes. For her very ankles alone, are enough to drive a lover mad, and worth more than the whole body of any other woman; so that whoever began to look at her, beginning with her feet, would never get any higher, but remain for ever wors.h.i.+pping their slender and provoking curve, with a thirst that was never quenched. She must be Rati or Priti, fallen, n.o.body knows how, into a mortal birth, and leaving Kama in despair. And yet, whether she be, as he supposes, the very wife of his former birth, or not, I am irretrievably disgraced. For he has managed this matter all alone, without so much as consulting me. And thus, not only have I lost my opportunity, of taking as it were tribute from all the surrounding kings, but I am very much mistaken if some of them, or even all, will not take umbrage at the slight put upon all their daughters by this unrelated queen,[37] and band together, and suddenly attack him, bewildered as he is by her disastrous intoxication; and so, the kingdom will be uprooted, since he is likely to be so entirely wrapped up in her that he will think of nothing else. And it may be that he will discover in the future that he has lost more, by disregarding his prime minister, than he has gained, by marrying even for the second time the wife of his former birth. And if, as I suspect, this is all but a trick, time will show up the imposture, and then it will be my turn. For if ever he should discover she has cheated him, all the coquetry and coaxing in the world will not keep him from abhorring her, for stealing his affection, and diverting it away from its proper object, to herself. For as a rule, men object to being cheated, even to their own advantage, since the cheater seems to argue that the cheated is a fool. But in the meantime I must wait, since it is useless to do anything, till the charm has lost its magic by dint of repet.i.tion. For beauty resembles amber: it attracts, but does not hold: and like a razor, loses virtue every time that it is used: till at last, it becomes altogether blunt, and impotent, and without either edge or bite. And then, unless I am very much mistaken, this lovely false wife of his previous existence will find, that she has to reckon with a formidable rival, in his recollection of the true.

[Footnote 37: Every reader of Scott will recall the "kinless loons."]

III

But Arunodaya, careless of his minister, gave himself up a willing captive to the witchery of his Widyadhari wife. And for a time, her task was very easy. For owing to his inexperience, he resembled a child, and every woman was to him an illusion, and a mystery, so that he would have sunk under the spell, even had it been less potent than it actually was.

And Makarandika was as it were his _diksha_,[38] incarnate in a form of more than mortal fascination: and like a priestess she took him by the hand and led him into the _garbha_[39] of that strange temple built not of stone, but of the materials of elementary infatuation, and made him perform, so to say, a _pradaks.h.i.+na_ round the image of the divinity[40]

of which she was herself a bewildering and irresistible incarnation. And lost in the adoration of a neophyte, he lay like a drunken bee in a lotus-cup, rolling in honey, and forgetting utterly not only his kingdom and its affairs, but everything else in the three worlds.

[Footnote 38: _i.e._ initiation.]

[Footnote 39: The Greek [Greek: adyton], or sanctuary.]

[Footnote 40: The Hindoo shrine, says Mr. A. K. Coomaraswamy, is essentially a place of pilgrimages and circ.u.mambulations, to which men come for _darshan_, to "see" the G.o.d.]

And yet, strange! there lay all the while lurking in the recesses of his soul a vague misgiving, mixed with a faint and unintelligible dissatisfaction, resembling a taste of something bitter in the draught of his infatuation, and an ingredient that qualified and just prevented his gratification from reaching its extreme degree, of ecstasy without alloy. And yet he hardly dared to acknowledge it, even to himself, accusing himself of ingrat.i.tude and treachery, and saying to his own soul: How is it possible to requite such infinite affection, and devotion, and service, and beauty, by returning nothing in exchange for it all but suspicion, and distrust, and doubt? For even if she were not the very wife of my former birth, what could I possibly wish for, more?

And yet, it is very strange. For notwithstanding all she does, she does not seem to reach and satisfy the craving for recognition in my heart, which obstinately refuses to corroborate her a.s.severations: nor do I ever feel that confidence and certainty, arising from the depths of recollection, which, if she really were my former wife, surely I ought to feel. Is it my fault, or hers? Alas! instead of meeting her half-way, I am oppressed with what is very nearly disappointment, and feel almost like a dupe, that have allowed myself to fall into the snare of beauty, so as to yield to another what should belong to one alone. Little indeed would she have to complain of in the warmth of my return, had she just that one thing that she lacks, the stamp of genuine priority: for then she would get in full the very thing I long to give her.

Aye! I am as it were dying to do, the thing I cannot do, and divided from supreme bliss by a part.i.tion composed of the most exasperating inability to know for certain, what all the time may after all be true.