Explanation

EXPLANATION
(SHORT STORY)

By K. CHANDRASEKHARAN, M.A. B.L.
(Rendered from Tamil by the Author)

‘Wonderful!’ ‘Amazing!’ Thus the entire city was wild with excitement. News spread from mouth to mouth extolling the art of Gaganacharya. The shrine of Chenna Kesava at Belur rose in proof of the unshakable faith in Vaishnavism of the Hoysala monarch, Vishnuvardhana.

The General of the King’s forces, Vijayatunga, was the only detractor in that crowd. He spared not thesculptor for allowing his daughter, Kinkimmala, to dance in on many occasions. Himself fallen captive to the charms of her fascinating figure, he hardly knew his own mind when he criticised Gaganacharya for presenting her in public as a dancer and making her the object of vulgar gaze and cheap curiosity. For he was certain that no normal being could easily resist the attraction of the youthful abundance in her, when her body swayed to the tempting rhythm of music. Further, he was sure that Kinkinimala’s beauty could leave none unensnared save perhaps himself.

There was a large concourse of people waiting that day to witness the Natya of Kinkinimala as soon as the ‘Kumbhabhishekam’ ceremony was over. Couriers of the Court soon came in advance announcing the arrival of the King with his entourage. People were asked to move away in order to make room for the royal party. The King with his harem was approaching the scene of such exquisite execution of sculptures. Apart from a long-cherished desire of Vishnuvardhana to rear up a temple of art for his favorite Deity, he took a secret pleasure in surprising the master-sculptor of his reign with unimagined honours and titles for his peak performance.

The sculptor with his daughter stood at the temple gateway to receive in person the King.

Vijayatunga, who was early there to make arrangements for the King’s arrival, asked of the master-sculptor: “Should your daughter too be here in this unmanageable crowd?” His voice betrayed a tremour.

Lost in his own dreams, the sculptor scarcely heard at first the words of the General. He suddenly became aware of them when repeated, and answered with a feigned look of respect, “Hey, General! Is it you? Kindness indeed to me and to my daughter!”

“Kindness?” the General burst out, “No, it is only the respect due to the gentler sex. I cannot remain self-absorbed like you forgetting everything else.”

He surveyed the people around, expecting their approval of his sentiments; but his countenance changed as he neared the sculptor with a whisper, “Well, man, do you hear me? I can do anything for you, provided you remove your daughter from this place. You must take her away. Why have you decked her in her dancing garment und made her stand in this cursed spot? Have you no sense of propriety?

Gaganacharya instantaneously raised his folded hands as if in obeisance to the General, and spoke firmly; No, there is no harm in her standing beside me. Aye, she will share the honours the King may be pleased to shower on me. It is but meet she should dance here after the royal eyes have feasted on the works of art. Further, this is God’s holy presence and not a mere market-place.”

“Hark, the King comes! Make way for His Majesty!” Cries rent the air announcing the royal personages. All moved away in response to the shouts. Vijayatunga, who never knew defeat in battle, for the first time tasted discomfiture in his encounter with an old man. He slowly stepped aside for the King to pass.

The monarch’s countenance was suffused with a divine effulgence. His heart expanded with rare satisfaction at the completion of his long-dreamed of temple of magnificent art. He had been apprised of the feast which awaited him there for his soul to feed upon.

The rituals of worship began with the swaying of lights and incense-holders to the central standing Deity of Chenna Kesava. Bells pealed as the incense filled the atmosphere. When camphor was lighted and lifted towards the image, the slanting poise of the figure impressed the onlookers and devotees with its touch of feminine grace. The name Chenna Kesava ¹ was truly justified.

The panel of bas-reliefs on the right side of the wall contained reproductions of episodes from the Ramayana. Eyes that rested on them never afterwards sought anything else. The King and his party remained glued to the spot, gazing and yet gazing on the unsurpassed beauty of the sculptures. Gaganacharya had to interrupt the King’s absorption and conduct him to the marvelous gallery of sculptured dancing figures.

Kinkinimala followed the King’s party but at a respectful distance. ‘Confident that none would notice her, she tried to adjust her slipping upper-garment. As she tied the end of her saree tight round her slender waist, her bosom only gained a more alluring roundness. Vijayatunga caught in a glance her bewitching form and for a while drank of itwith avidity. But she met his voluptuous gaze and dropped her eyelids in confusion. He was thankful for the moment thus afforded him to gaze more at her.

He gathered himself up and approached her. He breathed in her ear, ‘Madam, if you please, you can rest awhile outside.” Perhaps Kinkini felt the strange disturbance in his voice; for she was startled a bit and removed herself to where the King was approaching.

“What ails you, daughter, that you should forget the King’s presence and stand in his way thus!”, rebuked her father. Once again she got lost in a whirlpool of distraction, and in haste stopped aside, chancing to rub against Vijayatunga’s shoulder. But the General stood deliberately motionless.

Carved pillars at frequent intervals supported the central dome of the shrine. Over everyone of them hung a finely-worked figure of a dancing damsel. The King wondered how each one of the figures seemed to excel the rest, so artistically arranged on the pillars. One damsel in her right, extended palm was holding a mirror to her face while with the finger of the other she was fixing a dot (tilaka) between her eyebrows. Yet another figure in the group was bending a bow in a semi-circle and sending a shaft above, enrapturing the onlooker by that gesture. Almost all of them seemed in same attractive dance-pose or other, expressing a symbolical meaning. The visitor seemed petrified with astonishment at the living sculptures.

Gaganacharya was walking close to the King, expecting to be questioned regarding the motif behind each one of the sculptured figures. He stood at each spot with the King, eagerly watching his face wherein wonder and pride contended for an abiding place. As he was scrutinising the King’s face carefully, there was a twitch on it as if something perplexed him. Yes, before him stood the figure of a damsel with her slipping garment being tugged at by the small figure of a monkey on its hind legs.

A smile played a wee-while on the lips of the King. The next instant it changed to one of bland unenlightenment. But the sculptor would not communicate anything to the King unless he was questioned.

The King moved on after twice rivetting his critical gaze on it. He hardly spoke a word to anyone. But the bevy of women behind laughed outright as they saw the figure of the damsel with the monkey. The Queen called the General to her side and pointing to the image queried, “Do you understand anything of this?”

“Not much, Lady; but perhaps the sculptor’s comic mood has expressed itself,” answered the General and cast his looks around to receive approbation for his interpretation.”

In the meanwhile the King had got down the steps of the temple gateway leading to a wide open space, having at a distance a spot covered over with a gold embroidered shamiana, where the royal throne and seats of honour were arranged to overlook the vast crowd seated on the ground. The members of the royal party accompanied the King to the canopied dais and took their places according to rank. The sculptor sat on the right of the King, while Kinkinmala sat on the ground at her father’s feet with her legs bent together on one side. She easily reminded the onlookers of one of the images on the pillars of the temple. Vijayatunga sat con the left of the King.

Silence reigned for a few minutes over the entire concourse. The King at last broke the quiet with his clear accents:

“My good citizens! Can there be an end to all the wonders we have seen today? Every stone here speaks eloquently. Great art alone can speak so well. Look, can anything else convey so clearly the thought hidden behind? I think not. The Lord Chenna Kesava is filling this place with His grace. Everything bespeaks of the glory of divine art. One wonders whether sculpture took its idea from dance or dance from sculpture. The master-artist here is mainly responsible for creating this mystery. The generations yet unborn may not see the sculptor in flesh and blood, but they will unfailingly find his wonderful soul encased in each of these stones made alive here.

“What posterity really holds out for him may easily surpass the rewards we now propose to offer him, Posterity’s verdict will no doubt make him immortal. But none-the-less we cannot refrain from expressing our gratitude for his magnificent art. We offer him therefore gold and gems of rare value.

“But, but...1 forgot to mention one particular matter. One of the sculptured damsels defies my understanding. I mean the woman whose upper-garment is being pulled by a monkey. Why the artist caused the monkey to perform such an audacious act, I cannot discover. If anybody here can unravel the significance of it, we shall be thankful to him. No doubt, there is the Master here to confirm or contradict any such interpretation.”

The King ceased his speech and glanced with immense pride at the sculptor. The assemblage remained silent. People in the crowd were either nervous to speak out the result or their speculations, or were anxious not to go wrong in their interpretation before such an august assembly.

Suddenly rose the General from his seat, He exclaimed : “My Liege! This is executed merely to ward off the evil eye. The exquisite beauty of the dance-poses portrayed may be marred unless something ugly is placed side by side. I see no other explanation for the monkey’s presence.” He threw a glance at the vast crowd to receive their confirmation. The King also felt a sense of satisfaction at that explanation. He beamed on the sculptor in expectation of his approval as well. But a laugh rose from the lips of the ‘Master as he said: “Most Exalted Majesty! Yes, truly it is an attempt to ward off evil eyes. But the message of that piece of sculpture does not stop with it. The monkey represents those who merely feast their eyes on the body of a dancing figure, without ever trying to seek the inner spiritual meaning of the art of dance. Do we not know how ridiculous they can be, who ignore the spiritual purpose of art in their craving for sensory satisfaction alone?”

“Well said!” remarked the King, and added, “The portrayal of the damsel with the monkey conveys the subtle thought you have explained. True, if the body alone is the point, then certainly the evil eye will be gaining ground. It is apposite indeed that the monkey is associate with the beautiful dancing fire.”

The General became frozen on hearing this. Kinkinimala, who was bending her face down, lifted it in relief.

¹ Chenna, the graceful.