The Penguin Book of Classical Indian Love Stories and Lyrics Page 6

  ‘Her collar of evil pearls has entered into intelligence with Kama, although she has often caressed them; they have lighted a sudden fire in the breast of my friend! How can truth come of what is false within!

  ‘The crystal drops of her sweat mingle with the waves of her weeping upon her breasts; they roll through that shadowed valley and feign, because her tears are stained with her eyes’ collyrium, the radiant waters of the Ganges mingling with black Yamuna.

  ‘She is surrounded by these: the singing of the green-billed cuckoo, flowers, sweet winds of Spring, love, and the bees; she knows the ascetic martyrdom of five fires.

  ‘Come with me, very dear, and save the child ere the tenth state of love, for that is death. The duty of a noble heart surely, is to those who call upon it.’

  Now Gunapalita, as soon as he saw what lively interest his friend accorded to these words, understood that a great love was seeding in his heart, and therefore, because he feared the danger of the sentences he had heard spoken, said to him:

  ‘Although the torrent of love is hard to stem in the cataract of youth, yet these young women pass every man in turn between their hands, and a person of understanding should well consider what end there may be to such relations.

  ‘With public women we meet coquetry at first, then passion and then love, then jealousy, then heartache; they follow the fluctuations of our purses.

  ‘How can a youth of race permit himself attachment with such a woman? She loves the man she has but seen for a moment, and swears he is indeed the first and last!

  ‘A Pradyumna (incarnation of Kama) is ever a Pradyumna to these courtesans, as well you know; an ugly man is ever ugly, a loving boy is ever loving, a fool is ever a fool.

  ‘They hide their regions to augment desire and certainly not through modesty; they wonderfully dress themselves to attract their lovers, not to safeguard the manners of the time.

  ‘They drink meat soup to sustain the efforts of men, and never because they like it. Their skill in painting and each other art serves to set off their wit; it is not their distraction.

  ‘The red of passion is upon their lips, not in their hearts, for those are darker; there is a straightness in their encompassing arms, not in their nature; they are lifted by the pride of heavy breasts, not of their conduct; and it is by conduct that the just discriminate.

  ‘They pay profound attention to their region, round like a mountain, but none to the nobly born whom they have robbed; they are careless in walking, not in their plans to make all men ridiculous; they pay great care to the exclusiveness of their dressing, with its fine colours, but their bodies are common to all men; the drunkenness of love is upon their lips, not tender affection for the meritorious.

  ‘They are full of ardour even for boys; they urge themselves to explosions of passion for old men; even for those who have lost all virile force they have kind looks; even for those of chronic illness they reserve desire.

  ‘Love covers them with drops of sweat, but to his sweetness they are strangers still; they tremble like leaves because of passion, but their hearts are hard as diamond.

  ‘Surely they are like the metre Jaghanachapala that gracelessly jigs along; they pass their lives in an irregular agitation of their region; they have not the noble and harmonious grace of the metre Arya. They are nourished by others, but the signs of passion in their eyes are feigned; they are learned in giving their limbs to the first comer, but know not how to give their hearts.

  ‘They are unpitying as the ichneumon to the snake, yet smile and smile; although they are lamps of love, in the sweetness of the oil they nothing participate.

  ‘They have this in common with virtue, and this alone: they take exception in their lust to no one; they find their joy through Krishna, yet love Hiranyakashipu, his enemy, gold and delicate dishes, I mean, and the vests of luxury.

  ‘They practise the expediency of princes, they studiously avoid, that is to say, relation with the penniless; they are like man-eating birds.

  ‘They spy upon all men from their doors, and have varied means of action; they seize upon riches; you shall not conquer them.

  ‘Women and bees first coax their victims open, then leech them to the dregs.

  ‘What things have power of attraction and a hard exterior? Women and lodestones.

  ‘Harlots and elephants have this in common: they are ridden by men, and loved for their living devotion; they are well beaten about the hinder parts, and go from one owner to another.

  ‘A public girl may care for the perfect lover, but is like a merchant’s scale in this: if you cast the least packet of gold into the balance it swings in your direction.

  ‘Daughters of joy are like rattles with gilded handles, charming without, and hard throughout, and well-nigh hollow.

  ‘Therefore, if a man be so blinded by passion, or lacking in intelligence, or cursed by Destiny, as to join himself with one of these who pass from hand to hand, he is diving with arms held high and head bent forward, into, a pit. . . .’

  But while he was lavishing such counsels upon his friend, who stood tormented by the love which grew within him, a man sang three appropriate couplets in their neighbourhood:

  Only a fool’s afraid when Kama leads to him

  The captive flowery bodies Kama kneads.

  To him Alone the single profit of the life of man

  Comes not, the gracious quick-thighed strife of man

  And woman. Also, know a girl’s insistence is

  The meed of virtue in our past existences.

  So, when he heard these words, the son of purandara answered his companion, saying: The song of that excellent man expresses the very feelings of my heart.

  ‘Therefore, O Gunapalita, let us hasten to console this Haralata; she is torn by the points of the bodiless one; surely her unquiet eyes are wandering hither and thither. What useful purpose can be served by hesitation?’

  And, while these things were happening, there was a courtesan down in the house of love who ruthlessly condemned her lover to the door. She said that he was jealous, but really she had taken all from him!

  Another sulked despairingly because she had worked for nothing; the garment which her lover had given her proved of the cheapest.

  Another bullied a client who had left without paying the night before; she had seen him passing in the road; now red with anger she bitterly reclaimed her due from him.

  An old bawd said to a plucked youth daring to show himself at the door of the house where his rival triumphed: ‘Begone, O threadbare dung, O useless body!’

  A girl, fulfilled with joy and gold, showed her new scratches and bites proudly; her struggle had been with a king’s son, and she was uplifted to display such marks of rare good fortune.

  Another girl had seen her night’s salary rise up beyond belief, because of a quarrel between rich and generous lovers, who each desired to possess her: now she displayed her coins conceitedly; but poor in all else, her friends were rich in ribaldry.

  Two lovers had drawn their steel for the eyes of her whom each had chosen for that night; but an ancient procuress zealously came between them.

  ‘Now that I have saved much gold from many lovers, I need some nice young man to share my fortune.’ Thus did a bride of all chain down a senile admirer’s heart.

  A lover, who had lost all for love, now curried favour; he recruited wealthy enthusiasts for those who had maimed him.

  ‘In my running riot for you I have left my hearth, and now you play the stranger!’ Thus wailed an unfortunate whose woman would not know him.

  A lecher, whose mistress had lain with another, won his case before a tribunal of old rakes; now he was bearing back the double of what he had given her for the night.

  ‘Four days ago I bought her splendid clothes,’ complained a lover, ‘and now she has nothing but vile words for me. Tell me what I must do, O Madanaka!’

  A little further off another said: ‘Keli loves me and is tenderly attentive, O Kalahamsaka; b
ut it would take me a hundred years to tame that camel, her mother.’

  ‘Make ready flowers!’ a woman was crying. ‘Make ready the saffron robe! Of what are you thinking? Today you go to see him dance, Kinjalka.’

  A bawd was thus disillusioning a lover: ‘She shows you five days’ rapture because you have shown her five days’ gold; but she is not stifled with love for you, Kandarpaka; you need not be so proud.’

  ‘Sister, this son of a patchwork king now never leaves the house: he prevents the others from coming. The rim of the sacred bath is all taken up by this one naked man; he has no purse and puts an obstacle in the way of trade.’

  Sundarasena listened to such discourse of girls and bawds and customers as he went along; when he came at last to the chamber of his love, he had already learned the organization of a brothel.

  Impatiently he entered, and was bathed, as it were, in the tenderness of her welcoming glance.

  He lavished almost excessive tokens of respect and honour upon Haralata, until her friend seized an occasion to say to him, with all formality:

  ‘What avails a well-turned and flattering conversation, O delightful boy? Here is love lack! Here Haralata, her life between your hands!

  ‘I pray that your youth may be fortunate together and lively in playing, sweet with affection and abandonment, bold against all obstacles!

  I pray that the union of your hearts may last indissoluble, that it may be griefless, full of eternally unslaked desire, careless of shame and free of every veil and fetter, rich in the treasure of a hoarded passion!’

  The servants associated themselves with this prayer, and then retired in silence. The flames of confident love ran through the limbs of Sundarasena and Haralata, waiting upon promised lust.

  And for these two union began as was most fitting; for it was such as stands at equal height with the power of passion and marches with the inclination of the heart, such as prepares the joy of youth, and is life’s fruit. It finds its ornament even in impudicity, its honour in gestures which are not separately beautiful, perfection in an outrage of reserve; it shows respect by carelessness, and proves its well-wishing by seizing the hair; blows are the sign of its affection, and biting a joy; scratches are good fortune, and a crushing of the body, even to murder, consideration’s seal; it spreads in greedy kisses, where body presses to body, and gives birth to a soul’s desire of utter penetration; it seems to spring from far more than a single love, it is so wildly strong; it seems to burn far more that with a single passion, it seems to flower from more than one desire; the absence of effrontery is a vice and discretion a crime; reflection is an outrage, and reserve a weakness.

  That passion took on the proportions of a splendid fire, even as its first spark was blown; who therefore could describe the perfect detail of it when grown so great?

  A simple lust is the seal of imbecility. Thus these two decided their erotic problem; therefore they penetrated to the inner mysteries in their gracious study and learned the varieties of love.

  When the collision had begun, nought else remained for them; nothing to say or think or hide at all.

  Their words of caress in the act were broken and impetuously torn.

  They were bound to the whirling wheel. Who could tell over the gestures which the Master taught them? Who could envisage that pyre of authentic passion?

  When a vigorous man hastily besieges her graceful body, it is not suffering only that a young girl feels: she conceives joy of it also. Mighty is love!

  Whether it be the soul of the lover which hides in the soul of the loved one, or the soul of the loved one which hides in the soul of the lover, we may not know. The feeling of their own existence is not clear to them.

  She had shut her eyes and her body remained motionless; she manifested the sign of accomplishment within her, high coronation of the act of love.

  Covered with sweat and filled with confusion, she lay there glowing, changed in the radiant disorder of her hair.

  And while the two thus abandoned themselves without motion, bathing their bodies in a clam beatitude, night passed and did not weary.

  At last Haralata slowly left the marriage-chamber; she was broken in the fight, and yawned and wavered; her eyes were rosy and hollow and still half-asleep.

  Outside the girls were chattering:

  ‘I have been at my little lover’s house. We passed the night together in eating, drinking and talking, and, at the very last of the last, we loved each other.’

  ‘A very young and ingenuous brahmin, who is quite stupid and full of sap, and who does not often succeed in obtaining a woman, fell on me like sudden death last night, in the cast off clothes of a lover.’

  ‘Desire does not sleep though strength decays; that wicked old man tormented me with his whims all night; they lead to no end, except when I deceive.’

  ‘When my client fell dead drunk, I leapt into bed; I was able to sleep by myself all night.’

  ‘My lover came to me, thralled by my beauty; he is very smooth in lovemaking, tender in discourse, and rich in pleasant double meanings; O my dear, he is the most seductive creature in the world.’

  ‘An unfortunate fool of a peasant passed the night with me; he stretched his limbs straight in the bed, and turned his face from me; I had made him slack by my prayers, and he hardly dared to sigh; he ran with sweat, and, though he had been satisfied, he could not sleep; he waited for the morning with impatience.’

  ‘Avoid Harisena, O Vilasaka,’ another bawd gave counsel. ‘Avoid her as far as you can see her coming, blind young man! A magistrate’s son, a most dangerous enthusiast, has got his hooks on her.’

  ‘I would kill Kaumaraka in the arms of Matanasena,’ a jealous girl was crying, ‘but her mother mounts guard too well; I shall never catch them.’

  ‘Why have you left Kuvalayamala’s hearth, O Lilotaya?’ ‘Because there is nothing more for me to do there, brother. No gold, no love!’

  ‘The young man, Manjiraka, whose fortune was stolen from him, now goes to that girl’s house for the whole night, and gives her nothing.’

  ‘Balika is still a child,’ proclaimed an expert, ‘and yet she eclipses grown women. Her maturity is precocious; it has a proud splendour.’

  ‘Hara, o little hunchback girl,’ another was crying, ‘tell your pitiless dancing master that the body is a tender thing; ask him why he so labours to strain it out of shape.’

  ‘It is a waste of time to teach that lesson to your parakeet, O Sutaradevi; your lover is outside, listening.’

  ‘Take all this gold, my friend,’ said a woman in wonderful dresses to a much too handsome youth; ‘Since this tender inclination was born, you have been the master of the life and purse of Kusumadevi.’

  ‘Trust me to get you little Chandralekha,’ whispered a procuress. ‘Afterwards you may give me whatever trifle you decide.’

  ‘The son of Vasudevabhatta, O my mother, not only gives me nothing, but he is shameless; though I have repulsed him, he uses violence; he takes all the garments of your Suratasena and turns them into gold. He never gave me so much as a cotton rag; the wretched goat eats every robe I have.’

  ‘Listen, my friend: a sort of country bumpkin did the most prodigious things last night; but when I shut my eyes under the spell, he was torn with terror, and cried: “Unhappy that I am! I have killed her!’”

  ‘I bungled my merchandise last night, for I had a king’s son who did not know what sort of a place he had strayed into; his soul, moreover, was false and wicked.’

  ‘Would you believe it, dearest, the governor of the city had me haled before him by force as a receiver of stolen goods; everybody saw this; but they found nothing at my house for all their searching.’

  ‘We see you drag your region, Kereli. It is all torn with nail marks. We are sure that you lay last night with a man of the Deccan.

  ‘Indeed, Kereli, the drop is upon your lip, the diamond crown upon your neck, and the hare’s-leap upon your breast. Your man was learned in the sc
ience of the flowers of love.’

  It was to such accompaniment of courtesans’ babble, in their freedom from their nightly business, that Sundarasena also went forth from the chamber.

  While Sundarasena lived with his mistress in a mirage of youth and passion, fulfilled with that immense attraction which quells the heart, a year and a half passed over him.

  One day, as he walked in the park chatting familiarly with his companion, he saw a runner approaching them in rags. This man carried a fan, a gourd, and a leather band upon a stick; his shoes were pierced and his body covered with dust.

  The son of Purandara recognized the runner, and murmured meaningly to his friend: ‘Dear friend, it is Hanuman.’

  The messenger bowed to the earth and placed a letter at Sundarasena’s feet. The young man lifted it in haste, and saw that it ran as follows:

  ‘Purandara, from the august city of flowers, addresses his wishes to Sundarasena, but the words are steeped, even to indistinctness, in the dyes of grief and anger.

  You have forgotten your stainless race, O one disowned; you have had no thought of what you owed to your elders; you have fallen into the ways of evil, and have not considered the unfavourable reflections which will be passed upon your conduct.

  How could a pursuer of girls be born into a race where each has always walked most straightly, and where each has displayed such impeccable conduct that no half-thought could be levelled against it, where each has taken pleasure to do wrong to no man?

  You were guaranteed against all evil by the ritual ceremonies of religion, how could you touch the ananthic lips of a harlot?

  How should these things accord: a face wet with tears because of the smoke of the three sacred fires, and a sea of weeping at the reproaches of a whore?

  How should these things accord: the sacred formula that is murmured during the sacrifice, and the voluptuous whispering, the inarticulate cry of a woman who belongs to all?

  How should these things accord: the respectful trembling which seized you when your master beat you with his switch, and resignation under the petulant kicks of an angry girl?