The Gardener

The Gardener^*

(Translated by the author from his Telugu play)

Act I

Scene 1–The Palace

King: Have you noticed the change in his face?

Chenna: Yes, my lord that is a change in his mood.

King: Why does he look so miserable?

Chenna: He sees misery all the way, whenever he goes out.

King: But how can misery frighten a prince?

Chenna: It does not frighten him. It simply stirs his soul.

King: Oh! I remember the prophesy of the sages. Chenna, can’t you keep him away from the sight of misery?

Chenna: Where are we to hide misery, when the whole world is filled with it? Grave is the only place free from misery.

King:  Chenna, are we to blame for this misery? What’s the use of brooding over it? Hereafter let us keep him always indoors. He is a delicate child. His will is too weak to stand the shocks of misery.

Chenna: A delicate child, no doubt. But he is also sensitive. Will it not be worse for such a   child to remain always indoors?

King: He is lost to us when he sees misery. That is the prophesy of the sages. How can I afford to lose him, Chenna?

Chenna: How long can we hide him away from the world?

King: He is my only son, and you know what he means to me. Should he be a martyr to the world?

Chenna: Let him see as much of the world as possible. It will strengthen his mind and soften his heart.

King: No, Chenna, let him not go beyond the palace garden.

Chenna: Let us take him round the city. Let him know his future subjects, before he rules them.

King: He has already had a trip round the city. He goes out, and returns with sunken spirits.

Chenna: But he is so restless in the palace. Let him go out, and breathe freely.

King: Chenna, see that he enjoys this trip, at least. Let the city be well-decorated, so that it presents a grand spectacle of unalloyed happiness.

Chenna: Misery does not actually appear before his eyes. He simply sees it everywhere. Something must be wrong with his eyes.

Scene 2-Palace garden: Yasodhara and Siddhartha

Siddhartha: The sky looks empty.

Yasodhara: And the sun is dull, like a philosopher suddenly conscious of his vague pursuits.

Siddhartha: Oh! I am poor.

Yasodhara: You are a prince.

Siddhartha: No earthly riches can content me. Are those not rubies lying strewn over a green carpet yonder? Let me go and gather them.

Yasodhara: No. They are the rays of the setting sun. Don’t you see them slowly fading away? They will settle high above in the sky as stars. Why do you run after them, trampling down flowers on the way?

Siddhartha: Oh! I am thirsty.

Yasodhara: Don’t you hear the ripples of the streamlet flowing at your feet?

Siddhartha: No earthly water can quench my thirst. I see clouds descending to earth. Let me drink their water, before it falls on the dust.

Yasodhara: They are rocky hill; without a drop of water in them.

Siddhartha: I am tired.

Yasodhara: Let us go to the palace.

Siddhartha: No earthly home can cheer me up. Oh! What are those vultures of clouds hovering round my eyes?

Yasodhara: No. They are a swarm of bees buzzing over your forehead Oh! What beautiful locks of hair! (starts up)

Siddhartha: Why do you shudder like that? Yasodhara, don’t be frightened

Yasodhara: You are talking in a weird tone to-day. How can I remain calm?

Siddhartha: I am sick of the world in which I live. Can’t see the world which lives in me.

Yasodhara: Oh I Don’t expose the hollowness of my dream, my lord.

Siddhartha: What dream?

Yasodhara: It was a lake in the sky. There was a winged white elephant, plucking lotus flowers, and throwing them at the moon, who was patiently weaving them into a wreath. The clouds seemed slowly coming down to the earth. After some time, I found myself flying, seated on the wings of lightning. I was dropped at the feet of the moon. The moon smiled and said, “The garland is ready. Let me put it round your neck.” I smiled, shivering. The moon kissed me, and I blushed. The clouds groaned, the elephant danced in the air, the lake rippled- perhaps that was their way of rejoicing, But I stood with my head bent down. There were smiles only in my heart…..oh! What a sweet dream! Will it come true?

(Enter Chenna)

Siddhartha: Is the chariot ready?

(An owl hoots)

Chenna: Yes, my lord.

Siddhartha: Let us go.

Yasodhara: Don’t start now.

Siddhartha: Why not?

Yasodhara: Don’t you hear the hooting of the owl?

Siddhartha: I also hear the beatings of my restless heart.

Yasodhara: Where are you off to? For a hunting?

Siddhartha: No. For haunting.

Yasodhara: Whom?

Siddhartha: Human hearts.

Yasodhara: What does he mean, Chenna?

Chenna: The prince visits the city in state.

Siddhartha: No. Siddartha plunges into the world.

Yasodhara: Why does he seem so upset today?

(A flower is struggling against a worm by closing its petals)

Siddhartha: (frantically) Oh! Chenna, some worm is eating away that flower. Can’t you drive it out?

Chenna: Flowers are its only food. How can I starve it to death?

Siddhartha: Worms prey on flowers! From tomorrow there shall be no flowers in my garden. I cannot see their tears.

Chenna: Then, this ceases to be a garden.

Siddhartha: Yes. It will no longer be a graveyard of flowers. Chenna, where am I going now?

Chenna: Into the city in State.

Siddhartha: Is it your command?

Chenna: No, my lord, it is your own command. And I have had the chariot made ready.

Siddhartha: How can I go and leave the flowers exposed to the worms?

Yasodhara: The gardener will look to it.

Siddhartha: The prince is the best gardener in the world.

Yasodhara: What am I, then?

Siddhartha: The source of his smiles and tears.

(Exit Siddhartha with Chenna; Yasodhara goes to the flower which is harassed by the worm)

Scene 3-Siddhartha emerges from the bed-chamber

Voice of silence: You are going to desert your wife?

Siddhartha : Who says?

Voice of silence: You don’t hear your own voice!

Siddhartha: I am not deserting her. I am just removing illusions from her mind. Let me make her life surer and safer.

Voice of silence: You don’t love her? But she loves you, she lives for you. You spurn such a simple soul, you monster!

Siddhartha: If it is her soul that loves me, I am not spurning her. I am simply extricating her from the morass of passion. I do love her. Otherwise why should I leave her now? Do you understand? No. You can never understand that idea. Am I a monster?

Voice of silence: Why not strangle that baby instead of ushering him into the world without a father?

Siddhartha: Yes. He is my son, and he will inherit the legacy that I shall leave behind.

Voice of silence: What legacy can you leave behind, you who are renouncing the world?

Siddhartha: Love of life, love of humanity. That shall be my legacy. Can I not earn it, if I renounce the world?

Voice of silence: You are a dupe, mope, you shall be damned. That is our curse.

Siddhartha: Curse! Can it undo the blessings of my conscience? So let there be a struggle between these two voices, the voice of my conscience, and your voice, the voice that I now hear from somewhere. No more babble, I am deaf……

Scene 4-Morning: A banyan tree on the banks of the Anoma: Siddhartha, in saffron robes, stand staring at the ripples of the river. Chenna kneels before him; Kanthaka, the horse, looks into the heavens and cries out all on a sudden.

Chenna: Whither, my lord?

Siddhartha: Out on a pilgrimage.

Chenna: Like a cuckoo in spring-time?

Siddhartha: No, like one freed from the shackles of society.

Chenna: The bird may fly in air. But it cannot exist without a nest.

Siddhartha: If the nest degenerates into a cage? Chenna, what do you see in my look?

Chenna: Glow, as usual.

Siddhartha: Not gloom? And in my eyes?

Chenna: Tears!

Siddhartha: Yes, tears of blood shed at the fate of man.

Chenna: You are offered a cup of nectar. Why not drink it to the lees? Don’t throw it away. Open your eyes.

Siddhartha: What do you mean? Have I not opened my eyes? Otherwise I would not have broken through this thick cloud of night.

Chenna: You have no eyes.

Siddhartha: I am not blind.

Chenna: Your heart is blind. It did not throb, when you hurled my innocent mother into the abyss of agony.

Siddhartha: Blind man!

Chenna: I see the curve of the wave, and the curl of the cloud. I hear the mute thoughts of the

cuckoo: I feel the thrill of experience. How can you call me blind?

Siddhartha: You may see the smiles of the heart. But can you hear its cries? You may enjoy the moonlight of the face. But can you relish its darkness? And this is sight, is it?

Chenna: What is beauty for? Is it only to be left unenjoyed? Is it not for pleasing man that those flowers blossom?

Siddhartha: You gaze at the beauty of petals. Look there! The rustling foliage of yesterday is today lost in the dust. That yonder tree which once spread its shade over the limbs of many a wearied traveler droops now, yielding to its destiny. The fresh flower falls at the fateful touch of the gale, the gorgeous tints of the rainbow fade away into the white of the sun, the winged fairy of lightning flickers, and in a twinkling, flies into the void. And these illusions are the basis of your experience! It’s getting late for me.

Chenna: Let us travel together.

Siddhartha: You cannot keep pace with me.

Chenna: Why not?

Siddhartha: You will complain that the path is full of thorns.

Chenna: There is Kanthaka to take us even round the world.

Siddhartha: Chenna, are we better than the animal? Are we not overridden by society?

Chenna: Why should man waste hi short span of life in privations? My lord, every step of your tired feet on these silvan paths of merciless pebbles breaks my heart. Asceticism is no bed of roses, and pain is not for such as you.

Siddhartha: I can never return to this world of misery. Let me bow to the god in man, and die in peace. Don’t stand in my way! Oh! You are weeping. What is the matter? Don’t be a coward. Human life must end as a lyric. That is my mission.

(Slowly moves like a sweet dream at day-break; Chenna stands aghast; the river grows wild: it seems to ask him: WHITHER? WHITHER? He looks up, and the sky is clear, like the answer: PEACE! PEACE!)

Scene 5-Yasodhara is pacing up and down the balcony over-looking the streets, her eyes are dull and her face is shrivelled up with wrinkles; she looks like her own ghost; Rahula is crying in the bed-chamber.

(Enter Chenna)

Chenna: Tears cannot remove grief.

Yasodhara: Oh! Chenna! You have been away for a long time. Am I really weeping?

Chenna: I see tears in your eyes. You look ghastly today.

Yasodhara: Can’t you dissuade your prince from hunting dumb animals?

Chenna: He has never been a hunter.

Yasodhara: What is he now?

Chenna: He is no longer a prince to be a hunter.

Yasodhara: (frightened) What do you mean? Has he abandoned me?

Chenna: Do you feel forlorn, when he ceases to be a prince? Can’t you follow him by ceasing to be a princess?

Yasodhara: I am not able to understand you.

Chenna: He is out on a campaign.

Yasodhara: Where is his army? Can he fight alone?

Chenna: Alone? No. The whole man is with him.

Yasodhara: Who is his enemy, then?

Chenna: Living. And life is his friend.

Yasodhara: Where has he gone now?
Chenna: He has flung himself into the world in search of life.

Yasodhara: Chenna, what were his parting words?

Chenna: He said that he was determined to be away from your heart and mind.

Yasodhara: Does he not return to us?

Chenna: Not as husband or prince.

Yasodhara: Rahula is crying for him.

(An old man is seen tumbling into a ditch by the roadside)
Ah! Chenna, what is that?

Chenna: That is old age.

Yasodhara: But the King does not look so worn out! He too is very old.

Chenna: Kings can afford to postpone old age.

Yasodhara: I shall also be so helpless one day?

Chenna: Senility is inevitable.

Yasodhara: Even your prince cannot evade it?

Chenna: Life dare not defy time.

Yasodhara: No, Life is all powerful.

(A corpse is seen being carried in a bier)

Chenna: That is death; don’t be frightened. So you see how powerful life is The corpse will be burnt to ashes, and there ends the misery of life.

Yasodhara: Is death also inevitable?

Chenna: Yes, fortunately. It is the only cure for life, which is all disease. Still man clings to life to the last, in spite of decay and decrepitude.

Yasodhara: How I wish I were dead!

Chenna: The mother must not speak like that. The child is there to make her life worth living.

Yasodhara: But how long will that life last?

Chenna: That is eternal.

Yasodhara: Does it not die with the child?

Chenna: The child may die. But the memory it leaves behind lives for ever. It is the source of that eternal joy.

Yasodhara: I feel miserable.

(Rahula’s sobbing is heard)

Yasodhara: You are a mother. Live for your child. We have seen enough of the world within a few moments. Let us console Rahula.

Yasodhara: He is crying for his father. How can we console him?

Chenna: You can’t see more of the world, Devi. Just retire to your dreamland, the palace.

Yasodhara: Chenna, let me build my palace in the midst of withering flowers and dry leaves.

Chenna: Let them turn fresh and green at your touch.

Yasodhara: But have I the freedom to build my own palace?

Chenna: Freedom is there, always in us. We have only to feel it.

Scene 6-On the bank of a river

(Rahula and Champa)

Rahula: This is the King and that is the Queen. They used to remain on the river throughout the day, and return to the palace at night. But now they are homeless. The King kneels down before Rahula and says: “Once I had a grand palace here. But it crumbled to dust during an earthquake. And with it all our glory is gone, except the claim that we are King and Queen. We hear that you are a great builder. Can’t you build a small home for these royal refugees? We are helpless, sire.” Moved by their tale of woe, Rahula promises to help them, and Champa also does her bit of good.

Champa: She does not.

Rahula: Don’t be silly. Walls I can raise. But roof shall be entirely your work.

Champa: Why build a house and leave it to the tide? This is not the place for house-building.

Rahula: Tide! Where is the sea to threaten us with a tide?

Champa: Children cannot tell a river from a sea.

Rahula: Do what I say. Go and gather dry leaves. Then weave them into a roof. Make haste, don’t waste time.

Champa: No. I can’t play this game. It is dangerous.

Rahula: Dangerous? Why?

Champa: If the tide sweeps you and your house away into realms beyond my reach?

Rahula: Why are you so afraid of the tide? You girls are always timid. You are not fit for any game.

Champa: We girls can play only with toys, not with tides.

Rahula: But our river can never be in flood.

Champa: Yes, go ahead. Prepare tiny boats with lotus leaves, and set them afloat, with your King and Queen in it.

Rahula: Don’t try to be clever. Mind your business…..Is the roof ready?

(Enter Yasodhara)
(in ecstasy) Mother! Mother! We are building houses for Kings and Queens.

Yasodhara: Rahul, who is this girl?

Champa: I myself don’t know who I am.

Rahula: Usually I meet her at the palace-gate.

Champa: Perhaps I am a beggar girl.

Rahula: When I saw her first, she said that she was hungry. I gave her food and asked her to be my play-mate.

Champa: Yes, we always play in the garden, building worlds and pulling them down.

Yasodhara: Who are your parents, my child?

Champa:  I have no particular parents. So I find them everywhere.

Yasodhara: Where do you live?

Champa: I have no particular home. So I claim the whole world as my home.

Rahula: Mother, she always talks about big things.

Champa: Yes, with all the courage that poverty gives me.

Yasodhara: Champa, let me be also your mother. From today you will live with me, as Rahula’s sister.

Rahula: Mother, she is already my sister. I cannot leave her. Let us take her home.

Champa: I don’t know how to live in palaces!

Yasodhara: You may live as you like, for our home is no longer a palace. Let us make it as simple and sublime as a temple.

Act II

Scene 1-Midnight: Palace-The King’s Bed-chamber

Chenna: The chariot is ready, your Majesty.

King: Yes, your chariot is always ready. Chenna, why do you break in so rudely? My dream is disturbed.

Chenna: Excuse me, your Majesty. I feared that we might be too late.

King: Too late! What do you mean? You go out for a hunting at midnight?

Chenna: I have planned a pilgrimage for your Majesty.

King: Who is ‘your Majesty’? Don’t you know that I am no longer a king? Chenna, I cannot cling to the throne, when I have none to leave it behind to. Let me be myself, a father living for his lost son.

Chenna: We have not lost him, my lord. He is with us now. We have only lost claims on him. But we may look at him.

King: Look at him! Where? Don’t rouse in me hopes which you can never fulfill. (dreamily) Ah! My child! Don’t you hear your name in the beatings of my heart? Don’t you see the dreams haunting my life? Why not return to me, my darling? Your heaven lies in my arms, not in the void behind the skies.

Chenna: We are going to see him now. He is staying in Anandvan with his disciples. The whole city has been flocking round him since the evening. Those who have seen him say that they have seen God in flesh and blood.

King: Is that so? Will he recognise me? Or, will he tear himself away from my embrace, Chenna? Will he not see his own image in my eyes?

Chenna: Let us make haste: the chariot also is ready.

King: Chariot! What for? I must walk all the way. Otherwise where are the charms of pilgrimage. Let us go.

Scene 2–Palace-Garden

Wayfarer: Are you the gardener here?

Gardener: Yes, sir. And you?

Wayfarer: Just a wayfarer.

Gardener: And this girl?

Wayfarer: Another Wayfarer: Champa, by name.

Gardener: Your daughter?

Wayfarer: No. We are just travelling together: that’s all. Don’t fear: we won’t demand your hospitality and expose you to the fury of your master.

Gardener: Are you not afraid of night?

Wayfarer: Are there no glow-worms twinkling along our path? When there is light, night cannot do anything. But, poor man, you are drudging even now! You keep on watering the plants till they are smothered, eh?

Gardener: The garden must bloom with flowers, before dawn. My master will be visiting here with some great man, who, they say, is a god dropped from heavens. Oh! What huge crowds he is drawing! I too want to join them. But I dare not defy my master by deserting the garden.

Wayfarer: What can you do, if you happen to go there?

Gardener: What can any one do, if God descends to earth? One will pray for peace and plenty.

Champa: Brother, let us go, it is getting late.

Gardener: Where to?

Wayfarer: She is chasing a child who is running towards that great man.

Gardener: Oh, children are running towards him! What is his special charm, sir? Music? Magic? What?

Wayfarer: Memories of a life. Brother, do you come or not?

Gardener: I simply cannot understand such gripping memories. She might have once loved him, dreamt of him, wept for him, and now that he is within her reach, she is running towards him. But who knows, he may recede, as she proceeds.

Champa: I am not running towards your great man, sir. Don’t tease me. I am only searching for my play-mate. He has left the game unfinished.

Gardener: But they say that he is too big for children to play with.

Champa: Oh! you are lost in thinking of that great man. Brother, let us go.

Wayfarer: That does not matter, my dear old man. She will make him small. Is she not a child?

Champa: He is also a child. He runs away with my toys! I will teach him a lesson. Come on, don’t waste time here.

Wayfarer: But don’t miss that great man. You know who he is? He is the son of your own master.

Gardner: The King is my master.

Wayfarer: And that great man is his son.

Gardner: You mean, Prince Siddhartha? Is he alive? Has he returned? Oh; How can I miss him? Let us go.

Scene 3–On the Road

Rahula: Mother, why are we groping in the dark?

Yasodhara: Don’t fear, we have not lost our way.

Rahula: Where are we going now?

Yasodhara: To the garden.

Rahula: To the garden in the dead of night! Are you mad?

Yasodhara: Flowers that droop to dust to-day will wither away tomorrow.

Rahula: So what? Are you going to gather flowers now?

Yasodhara: Gods love only flowers picked up from dust. Rahul, never pluck flowers. We are going for puja now.

Rahula: Are there temples in gardens?

Yasodhara: Gardens themselves are temples. Rahul, you will see God now. Don’t be in a hurry.

Rahula: What is the use of seeing gods that are as hard and firm as the stone walls to which they are confined?

Yasodhara: But our God does walk, talk, weep, laugh, just like you and me.

Rahula: Really? Then I must see him. Mother, does he also look like you and me? I mean, With no extra eyes and limbs?

Yasodhara: He will be exactly like us.

(Kisses him on the forehead)

Rahula: But how can I walk all the way? Let me go and bring my horse.

Yasodhara: Sit on my shoulders if you are tired.

Rahula: No. You would stumble in the dark. Mother, where is that garden? Have I ever seen it?

Yasodhara:  No. But it is very near, though rather out of the way.

Rahula: I cannot trudge on like this. Mother, don’t insist on puja now. Let us go home. Champa will be cursing me. I have promised to play with her after dinner.

Yasodhara: Rahul, do you leave your mother alone in the dark? You are the only light along her way.

Rahula: Oh! Mother! Don’t weep. Let us go on.

Yasodhara: My darling! (hugs him)

Rahula: Where are all the stars tonight?

Yasodhara: Perhaps they are all hiding in your little heart.
(gleams of light and chorus of voices at a distance)

Rahula: (starts up) Oh! Where does that tumult come from? Let us run away. (Clings to his mother) Oh! Ghosts!

Yasodhara: They will all fly away.

Rahula: Ghosts, mother?

Yasodhara: Where?

Rahula: There!

Yasodhara: I see none. Don’t fear. Am I not with you?

Rahula: Mother! Mother! Don’t you hear that sound?

Yasodhara: Yes. I hear a rhythm of foot-steps, and a cadence of song.

(Enter Champa, Wayfarer and Gardener)

Champa: You are here! How tired I am in trying to find you! When I went to the garden, in search of you, I saw nothing but the dry leaves rustling in the dust and the ghost of a gardener watering withering plants. And in the palace, instead of a rush and roar of life, I felt the silence and solitude of a grave. What are you running after so selfishly in this darkness? Rahul, why do you leave a game unfinished?

Yasodhara: Champa, let him seek God here.

Champa: God! Does he mean, toys and sweets? Come with me Rahul, I will show you any number of gods.

Rahula: Where are they?

Champa: You will see them, as you go on playing.

(Enter Gautama with bhikkus)

Yasodhara: Rahula, here is your God. Bow to Him.

(Rahula bows to Gautama)

Yasodhara: (prostrating herself) My life is dedicated to you, my lord. The lotus does not now her own birth-place. But when she turns round, she finds herself smeared with mud. She blushes with shame. Once the sun smiles at her, she begins to dance in joy, till her petals droop to dust, leaving behind only traces of the heart. That she offers him.

(Enter the King and Chenna)

King: Oh my son! Forgive me my love!

Gauthama: Love those that I love, the afflicted humanity. Yasodhara how are those flowers in your garden?

Yasodhara: They are free from worms, my lord

Gauthama: You have killed the worms?

Yasodhara: No. I have taught them to live on fruits.

Gauthama: Yasodhara, go and be a gardener. But don’t try to nourish plants with tears. Rahul, always playa game to the finish. And play it in a garden where you have light and shade. Chenna, drive on your chariot, till you reach the Milky way…..

(Exit with bhikkus)

King: Yasodhara, I see smiles in your eyes.

Yasodhara: Yes, father, they are the offspring of a full heart.

Champa: Rahul, what game shall we play? Did you not hear God?

(Rahula is playing with the parrots and peacocks, designed on the border of Yasodhara’s sari).

^* Dedicated to James H. Cousins.