The Return of Shakuntala

(A STORY)

BY MASTI VENKATESA IYENGAR

(Translated from Kannada by V. M. Inamdar)

It was an evening and near the hermitage of the sage Kanwa on the banks of the river Malini, and two young women were walking from the hermitage and talking in low tones where the road from Hastinavati reached the hermitage.

"It is so late," one of them was saying, "I wonder if they are coming at all. They should have arrived by now."

The other replied: "We do not know what business they may have. I suppose it is not so easy to leave everything and come, now that she is queen of a country. They are sure to come tomorrow, if they do not arrive today."

"I am simply anxious to see dear Shakuntala. It is seven years since we saw her. I wish to see how she is and to see her child," said the first.

"I have been anxious to see her too. Time and again I have seen her in my dreams. Our dear Shakuntala also must have certainly remembered us often."

The one was Anasuya and the other Priyamvada, companions of Shakuntala's girlhood. They were expecting the arrival of Shakuntala, now accepted queen of Dushyanta. She was due to arrive the previous day but had not come. Word had been received that she would be reaching the Ashrama today, and the residents of the Ashrama were waiting at the entrance to receive and welcome the queen. These two friends of hers, however, too anxious to stay there waiting, proceeded up the path hoping to see their friend some minutes earlier.

Waiting for someone to come is under any circumstances a tiresome business, and these two were Shakuntala’s life companions, bred and brought up together for years as sisters. Seven long years had elapsed since they had seen her, and that was when she left to join Dushyanta, her husband. Since then there had been no occasion for them to meet her. Goutami, Sharngarava and Sharadwata had returned a month after Shakuntala’s departure and had made all the inmates of the Ashrama unhappy with the tale of Shakuntala’s repudiation. The people, of the Ashrama did not know that Menaka had taken Shakuntala from the court, that she spent her days in the hermitage of Maricha, cared for by friends, and that she was delivered of a son there. It is likely that Kanwa knew but he had said no word about it. Old Goutami had one day approached the sage and begged him to say what had happened to Shakuntala later and Kanwa had replied that she was all right, but sometime should pass before her days of sorrow could end. Everything would turn out happily and it was no use thinking of it. This closed the matter then and no one could ask for further details, nor discuss things with him. They had passed the next nearly six years when on a fine day arrived a royal messenger from Hastinavati, and reported to Kanwa how on Hemakuta hill King Dushyanta had met Shakuntala again and how all three, the King, Shakuntala and the Prince Bharata, had returned to the capital. That day the hermitage was all joy. The pious Kulapati was happy and smiled for the first time in six years, and in the evening when Anasuya and Priyamvada brought their children near the sacred fire for his blessing, took the children in his arms and kissed them and played with them. The whole day there were a new joy and jubilation in all his activities. The joy that filled the heart even of a man who had renounced the world could not but make all others happy in the extreme. Even the birds and other animals in the hermitage seemed gayer that day as if they were having a holiday. Continuous contact with the good makes even beasts understand the happiness and the pain of other hearts. The mighty trees that had aged with the sages and shared their austere penance seemed now to soften with the new delight. Happiness at the thought that the Kulapati’s daughter was happy, that she was living in the royal palace with her loving consort, that she was bringing up the Emperor-to-be, filled the hearts of all the Ashramites, reached every animate and inanimate thing there, danced over the sparkling waters of the Malini and spread over the Ashrama with the spreading light and air. The royal messenger stayed there for the day enjoying the hospitality of the Kulapati and left next morning with his blessings both for the King and Queen.

The news that Shakuntala was happy in her royal home at Hastinavati which was only ten days journey from there, set the hearts of all astir with eagerness. Even Kanwa himself must have desired to see her, and young Sharngarava and Sharadwata who had left her there, alone and helpless, must have been anxious too. But men are less prone to express their desires. Priyamvada whispered her wish to Anasuya who in turn instigated old Goutami. The old lady, also anxious to see Shakuntala, approached the Kulapati in the evening and said:

"I am so eager to see dear Shakuntala, if you will permit."

"What objection?" the sage replied, and continued, "But the girls would also like to see her. Can you leave them and go.?"

"I shall take them too," the old woman replied.

The sage said: "Their babies are young and they are inexperienced. Would it be proper for you all to go to see the queen without an invitation from there? It seems to me it would not be. Let us see."

Their hopes were then broken but within two weeks of this incident Shakuntala had sent presents to young and old and all the pet fawns and flowering plants of the Ashrama and had promised that she would be coming in a day or two. It was yesterday that she was due to arrive but in the meantime she had sent word that she would be coming this day. All were expectantly waiting and, as she had not come, doubted again if she had postponed the journey.

Shakuntala on her side was not less eager to see her father, old Goutami, her dearest chums, and the lovely banks of her dear river Malini. Repudiated by the husband that had wooed and loved her, she had spent six years in the hermitage on Hemakuta and the sorrow of that life had so bent her that the girl of eighteen had in six years become old enough for a woman of thirty-five. When her penitent husband came and confessed his error there was no room in her heart for indignation; nor did that heart well up with joy when she returned to Hastinavati, a queen with her son a prince. For, when once the heart has lived through experience like hers, it loses its lightness so far that even the greatest joys of life can move it only a little. The turn of events brought her calm of mind, in that her father and old Goutami would be free from care and her friends would no longer bewail her lot. Her son would get what was due to him by birth and she was happy in the thought that he was losing nothing in consequence of anything she had done. It was on this account mainly that she was anxious to see her foster parents and friends as soon as possible and to learn how they had fared all that time, and herself make known to them her own happiness. Shakuntala would have opened the topic of a visit to the hermitage soon after arrival in the capital; but everything was new and she thought it better to wait. This was why a message had been sent. Shakuntala however had sent special words to young and old. On the return of the messenger she also learnt many things about the hermitage and gathered that Anasuya had been married to Sharadwata and Priyamvada to Sharngarava. Some days later she suggested to the King a journey to the hermitage and he had said:

"Certainly. It is right that you go; but, for myself, I cannot come. When I was there last, I offended the Kulapati, and I do not wish to go now. You may go."

Shakuntala smiled and said:

"The offence you gave him then is what has made him now quite happy. Will he mind that?"

"It is not for fear of his anger that I hesitate," the King replied. "It is on my own account. I shall be able to go with you when I have made you happy for some time."

"Then let it be as Father said," said Shakuntala. "I will not go until then!"

The King did not understand her. He asked what the father had said and she explained:

" When I started from the hermitage to meet you, I wondered when next I could go there, and Father said that it would be when you and myself would go there for retirement."

"Oh! That refers to permanent stay there. This visit has nothing to do with that. You must go and comfort them all."

And Shakuntala smiled and said, "Am I a royal ambassador?"

"My dear," said the King, "you ask in jest. I say Yes in earnest."

It was after this that a message had been sent to the hermitage that Shakuntala would be coming there.

A day was fixed for her departure. That morning Shakuntala finished her morning worship and went to see and take leave of Hamsapadika, fair and lustrous daughter of the King of the Gandharas who had won the heart of Dushyanta some years earlier. Her beauty and charm had ruled over the palace for some years, but one evening when the King returned from his hunt he appeared to be quite out of mind and cold towards the queen. That was not a strange experience for queens in those days, and Hamsapadika suspected that the King’s eyes had found some new fascination, and inquired of those that had followed him. Some months later came a pregnant woman claiming the King for her husband. All this conspired to make Hamsapadika’s life empty. When the repudiated Shakuntala returned later as veritable queen with a much coveted prince for the King, Hamsapadika felt that she could expect no return of happiness to her life. She feared that Shakuntala would look upon her with strangerly feelings and the usual jealousy of another wife. Shakuntala however had totally falsified her fears and seemed to have brought to Hamsapadika a new joy in life. For, though in the whole palace and elsewhere Shakuntala was proclaimed the principal queen who had brought the King a coveted son, and though naturally the other queens were expected to show her due regard, Shakuntala had herself approached the other queens in humble dignity, and coming to Hamsapadika in particular had bowed down and said:

" You are elders. I am a girl and know nothing. I beg you to look upon me as your sister and instruct me."

This modesty came to Hamsapadika as a pleasant surprise. She drew the new-comer close and embracing her with love had said:

"Whatever is it, sister, that you are talking? It is your word that goes with the King. It is we that should approach you in this fashion."

And Shakuntala, in the simple way she had, replied: "I long to have the love of our King; but I long also for the love of you and my other sisters."

This had won Hamsapadika over and since then they had loved each other more and more. Now when Shakuntala came to take leave before going to the hermitage, Hamsapadika showed some curiosity and asked her how long she would be away, when she would return, who else lived in the hermitage, and so on. Shakuntala saw her desire to visit the hermitage and asked her if she too would come. The elder queen said: "You are going to see your own people. Shall I not be an intruder? Shakuntala pressed her to go and obtained the permission of the queen-mother. This delayed their departure, and as we know word had to be sent to the expectant hermits.

The journey from Hastinavati to the hermitage would generally take ten days to walk. With speed one could walk it in even seven days, and for those blessed ones who could afford

conveyances it would be a four days’ journey. When the queens had to go, the King made arrangements and ordered retinue to accompany them. The King’s beloved jester Madhavya, the great eater, was informed that he should accompany the party. This poor fellow could hardly remember having eaten a single sumptuous dinner from the day of the rejection of Shakuntala. He could not be expected to remember a thing like a dinner even had he eaten one, but the fact also was that even ordinary food with the King had become rare. The return of Shakuntala came to him as happy as a summer shower; and the King in his happiness spiced his dear friend’s appetite with fresh varieties of food every day. When on the top of this, he was asked to accompany Shakuntala to the hermitage, Madhavya’s joy knew no bounds. He had now the opportunity to show himself as a representative of royalty. At the time of the last visit, he had returned quite unnoticed, not even having seen the Kulapati, as if he meant nothing. Now he could show how wise he was and what high place he held in royal favour. Moreover, there was the prince and there would be as much sport as one wished. The queens and the jester occupied their respective chariots, and with guards escorting, left Hastinavati far behind.

When the prince entered the ladies’ chariot, Madhavya gave him a secret invitation to come into his carriage when they had gone some way. Bharata assented and finding after some time the women’s company boring, said that he would go to Madhavya. The chariots were stopped and these friends got together. The queens also found this quite convenient. Though Shakuntala would always like her son near, she had now to engage the elder queen, and she did this, occasionally casting affectionate glances at her son now seated in the other car. Madhavya, on the other hand, was engaged in imitating, for the amusement of the prince, the cries of all the birds and the beasts, This had gone on between himself and the prince for the last seven days. He was really expert at that sort of thing, for when he imitated the roaring of a lion the horses of the chariot were startled. He went on with this business, cawing, singing, and chattering, and imitating birds and beasts, –lions, tigers, wolves, and foxes, to the complete satisfaction of his little master-friend. At last Bharata asked him to bray like an ass. Madhavya was afraid of being asked to do the same thing every now and then, and also what people might take him for, if in the midst of the journey he began braying. So he said: "The queens are there. We should not do that in their presence." But the prince would have his own Way. "We shall lead our chariot ahead so that they will not hear you, and then you shall bray. Really that is what you do best. Your bray seems so natural." Madhavya was uncomfortable at this compliment for a moment, but he saw at once that it was the simple and unaffected appreciation of a child and not ridicule. The charioteer was therefore ordered to take them a little ahead, and Madhavya brayed a number of times to satisfy the prince.

The next evening they arrived in the vicinity of the hermitage. The prince asked the driver to speed up. He wished to be the first to reach the destination and to get acquainted with the inmates before the others arrived, but pretended that it was only to herald the arrival of the queens. The driver also was a young fellow and shared the desire to be the first and unloosed the reins. In no time they were a league ahead of the other chariot and met Anasuya and Priyamvada who were coming down the road. The two first took the chariot for the queen’s, but seeing Madhavya said to themselves that it belonged to somebody else and stepped to a side of the road to make way. The prince inquired of his friend, "Who, dear uncle, are they?" and he replied, "I think they are the friends of the queen." The prince looked at the women a little and felt that that was so. The chariot was therefore stopped and the boy jumped out of it and approached the ladies. Before they could ask who he was, his features told them that he must be Shakuntala’s son, and then he put them a straight question: "You are my Mamma’s friends, are you not?"

" Yes," replied Priyamvada and asked, "But where is your mother?"

He told them that she was coming in the second chariot and pointing at them he said with some vivacity, "You are aunt Priyamvada, and you are aunt Anasuya."

"How did you know that?" Anasuya was surprised and she took the child in her arms. The prince placed his small finger upon her nose and explained: "Mother told me that Priyamvada’s face is broad and yours a little longish. That was how I came to know you!"

"Is that all? How clever you are!" said Priyamvada and the prince replied: "No. There is another thing. Mother said aunt Anasuya’s nose is a little bigger than yours."

The ladies were mightily pleased. They kissed him and said that he was quite like his father and had really grown well. By this time Madhavya came there and talked to them. As they asked how far the other chariot might be, that also was seen in the distance. When Anasuya saw it, she placed the prince on the ground and walked hurriedly towards it. Priyamvada took the prince in her arms and followed. Seeing this group from a distance, Shakuntala ordered the chariot to be stopped, and helping Hamsapadika down the chariot, walked up the road and joined her friends.

How is one to describe in words the emotions of these friends who met each other after so many years! Just a moment before, Priyamvada had been thinking in what manner she should address Shakuntala, now that she was a queen, but actually when she saw her alighting from the chariot her doubt fled, she knew not where. She even forgot that Shakuntala was queen, and, "Dearest Shakuntala, are you well?" was all she could say. She could utter no more words and the tears came unchecked and filled her eyes. Anasuya ran like a child and held Shakuntala in an embrace without a word, sobbing and weeping, with her head on the queen’s shoulders. Shakuntala too was not herself for the moment but soon controlled herself and said, "Come now, dear Anasuya. Look who has come," and introduced both her friends to Hamsapadika and said to them, "This is my sister Hamsapadika. She loves me so much." Priyamvada said to Hamsapadika, "It is so good of you to have come. We are happy to have you here." These courtesies over, Shakuntala inquired how Goutami and others were, and made excuses to Madhavya for having made the journey so slow and asked her friends, "Is Bharata already friends with you?" "Yes," replied Anasuya, You seem to have described us to him, but should you tell him that my nose is a little bigger than my sister’s?" Shakuntala and Hamsapadika laughed. "Oh! Is this how you talk to people," Shakuntala said to her son, "This is a funny way of making people’s acquaintance."

"No, Mother," he replied, "she herself asked me how I recognised them and I told them that you told me about their faces. Then aunt asked me if that was all, and I told her that hers was the bigger nose!" Having finished his explanation the prince kicked a piece of stone with his foot and was off playing and singing. All laughed heartily at the boy’s innocent and candid explanation. When joy or grief choke the throats of grown-up persons, the innocent words of a child relieve aching hearts and bring fresh speech to sealed lips; and when persons who have seen too much of human life think that it is nothing, and nothing is worth doing, the hungry cry of a child brings them to work and gives them assurance that there is much to be done in the world. Priyamvada and Anasuya kissed the boy again, and with Shakuntala on one side and Hamsapadika on the other, walked towards the hermitage. Madhavya followed them and the carts came behind.

Walking slowly up the path, Shakuntala recognised one after another the places which she had known so well. Here on one side was the big tree full of fruit and there was the path leading to the bathing place in the bright-watered Malini. The canal that fed the plants of the garden could also be seen there, and beyond was a herd of deer some of which were looking upon the corners and some peacefully grazing on the lawns. To Shakuntala’s eyes the place seemed unchanged, but the old joy that her heart knew was not there. She was happy to come and see the place that had brought her up, but the ecstasy of those days was gone and she could not understand why. When they arrived at the entrance to the hermitage, there were Sharngarava and Sharadwata and other hermits, men and girls. Sharngarava came forward with the auspicious rice, uttered the blessing meant for royalty, put it over the heads of the queens and the prince, and said: "The Kulapati waited here long to receive the queens himself, but as it was time for evening worship he went in, enjoining us to welcome and bring you to the Yajnawati."All this courtesy and formality pained Shakuntala greatly but she could not talk and so she put up with it; Sharadwata was simpler. He inquired of her how she was doing, and taking the prince by the hand said to Sharngarava: "The prince is really a prince." "It is the Kulapati’s blessings," said Sharngarava and all turned towards the Yajnawati.

Sitting before the sacred fire, Kanwa heard of the arrival of the queens and sent a pupil to bid them all come in. Shakuntala would have liked to embrace her father but she was now a queen and the mother of a prince. She therefore only bowed in respectful reverence, and from a distance asked her son to do so too. The Kulapati blessed her. She got up and said: "This is my sister Hamsapadika. She agreed to accompany us. I thought you would be pleased to see her and I brought her also." The Kulapati signified approval of everything by gesture and blessed all of them with the holy rice and engaged himself again in his sacred duties for a little while longer. When the evening rites were finished, he inquired of them how they were doing. The young prince behaved with dignity and did not speak in the buoyant manner which he had in the presence of others. In the meantime old Goutami returned from the river, and took her seat near them with the words, "I waited and waited the whole evening, and went to the river exactly when you arrived." All bowed before her and obtained her blessings. After some talk about the King and the royal family, the Kulapati asked Goutami to look to the requirements of the guests as they should no doubt all be tired. All got up and Kanwa smiled and said, "Anasuya and Priyamvada, will you not show them your children?" They both felt bashful at this and answered, "We shall," and all of them went towards the dwelling huts.

There were a thousand things to be talked between Shakuntala and her friends, and Queen Hamsapadika who realised this went to the dining room with the pretext that she would feed the little prince. In the meantime Anasuya and Priyamvada showed their children to their friend and were talking of all and sundry matters in the easeful and happy confidence of true affection. They told her of the curse of Durvasas, of their fear, of how things turned out exactly as they feared, of how the Kulapati languished, of how Goutami had pressed and hastened their marriages when Sharngarava and Sharadwata returned from the capital, and how Shakuntala’s pet deer had been delivered of a young one, and of its being pregnant again. They talked about each and everything, of the willful Sharngarava, of the simple Sharadwata and the magnanimous Kulapati, and when the prince returned from his meals Shakuntala put him to bed and herself went with Hamsapadika to supper. The simple and gentle nature of everyone in the hermitage greatly impressed Hamsapadika, and when they had finished supper they spoke for a while in the delightful moonlight and then went to bed. Sharadwata and Sharngarava had to look after their children that night. Sharadwata was a simple and good natured fellow who did not trouble himself much about things. Sharngarava was graver and more serious minded. He in fact did not wish to get married so soon. Even Priyamvada had wished to put off the marriage, but Goutami had become insistent: "I had to see so much trouble because of negligence. We allowed Shakuntala to grow un-married into the very prime of youth and tasted much bitterness in consequence. I do not want to taste it again. You must marry." Anasuya and Sharadwata consented to marry, and when Priyamvada refused, the former had said: "You are my elder sister. If you do not marry what is the hurry for me? Let some more time elapse and we shall marry together." The sage knew this, and agreeing with old Goutami married them all the same year. Anasuya had now a daughter and Priyamvada a son. And that night they spent with Shakuntala, gossiping late into the night and going off to sleep.

To Shakuntala who had returned from the palace, this calm rest in the heart of the peaceful hermitage was like the quiet and restful sleep of a tired child by the side of its mother. Her sleep was happy with such dreams as she had not dreamed for years. And in the morning before they got up the Kulapati came on his round and inquired about them. They got up later, finished their bath and their usual morning worship and went to the Yajnawati and bowed before the Kulapati. Shakuntala then went to have a look at her favourite jasmine creeper which had now plentifully blossomed. There was the same old beautiful mango-tree and the same pet deer of the wide eyes. This creature could not at first recognise its old mistress and ran away when fondled, but when the friends brought it and stood it by her side, it seemed slowly to remember an old attachment and waited peacefully by her side. Its young one, which greatly resembled its mother, was at a distance. From there Shakuntala passed on to the places where the King had first seen her, where they had sat, where in sweet pain she had etched her love epistle and where at last they had met and become one. She then reached the bathing ghats of the beautiful Malini. Pictures of her youth passed before her mind, all the joy and gaiety, the youthful zest and the simple ecstatic emotions of those days. Everything was there now as it had been then, perhaps even better, but the spirit of that happiness was not there. A wave of dejection came over Shakuntala and the happy life of her reminiscence seemed to be somebody else’s. Hope is not happiness, nor even fulfillment of hope. That alone is happiness which knows nothing to hope for. Shakuntala, wandered to other parts in the hermitage and then returned to the huts.

In the afternoon Sharngarava came to her and said: "That day when I took leave of you in the palace, I spoke harsh words, Madam. I wish you to forget them." Shakuntala replied reassuring him: "Do not talk to me so formally, brother. I am after all your sister. What you said was then right. It cannot be otherwise now. I have thought of you only as my brother and I remember nothing else."

In the evening the Kulapati said: "Next time, you should bring the King, my child. Tell him that there should be no hesitation on his part to come to me." Shakuntala assented.

The next morning Shakuntala finished worship and distributed the presents that she had brought, and started for Hastinavati taking leave of young and old. She well remembered, as everyone else did, her former departure from the place years ago. That day she had walked bare-footed; now she had a chariot. The son that was in the womb then was growing like the moon and sitting by her side. No doubt or misgiving such as she had then, oppressed her mind. All this pleased everybody. To Shakuntala herself it was as if the same day had returned.

For no reason that she could see, she felt anxious and perturbed as then. She felt that soon she should come to the hermitage with her lord and never return to the capital. Pleasure to be really pleasure should be free from all chance of pain. The smile that covers a forgotten pain is not the smile of happiness. The foster-child of the sage seemed to realise this in that moment. As Shakuntala got into the chariot and started again for Hastinavati, there was an uneasy thought in her mind that life’s happiest milestones had been left behind.