The Sky Lamp

(Short story)

JAYASHANKAR PRASAD
(Translated from Hindi by Dr, Ravi S. Varma,
University of Rajasthan, Jaipur)

“Captive!”
“Who’s there? Don’t disturb. Let me sleep!”
“Don’t you wish to escape?”
“Not now; only when I wake up. Keep quiet!”
“The right moment might slip by then.”
“It’s very cold. Could you just spread a blanket over me and save me from this chill?”
“A storm is gathering. It is the most opportune moment. I have loosened my bonds today.” “Then, are you a captive yourself?”
“Yes. Don’t speak loudly. There are only ten sailors and guards on this row-boat.”
“Can we have arms?”
“Sure. Could you cut the rope fastening us to the great ship?”
“Why not?”

Angry waves rocked the sea and the two prisoners rolled nearer each other. One of them freed himself and started un­fastening the other’s bonds. A gentle spray from rollicking waves greeted them and exhilerated their joy of deliverance. The thrill of emancipation locked them into a loving and abrupt embrace. Both of them had extricated themselves from their bonds under the cover of darkness. When an exuberance of joy prompted, the second prisoner to hug the first one still closer, he spluttered in surprise, “What? You are a woman!”

“Is it a sin to be a woman?” retorted the first prisoner plucking herself from his close embrace.

“Where are the arms? Your name?”
“Champa!”

Between the star-spangled dark blue sky and the purple ocean the wind was raving madly; darkness aggravated its ferocity. The ocean was howling and roaring and the boat bobbed on the waves. The woman crawled cautiously towards a sailor dead in sleep, pulled his long knife from its case and crept to her companion. The helmsman on the ship shouted “Storm!”

An emergency call was bugled and everyone except the youngprisoner who lay listless became alert. Some pulled at the ropes and others started lowering the sails. In the tumult that ensued, the young prisoner rolled towards the rope tethering the boat to the ship. The dark clouds veiled the stars, the waves rolled on madly and the mighty ocean grunted fiercely. A strong and fearful storm gathered and rocked the boat with the fury ofa demon angrily tossing a ball.

With a sudden jerk the boat tore asunder from the ship and both the prisoners burst into laughter unmindful ofthe imminent danger; but in the thunderous and ear-splitting noise created by the swelling sea none could hear them.

The day dawned and a pleasant light filled the vast expanse ofthe ocean. Under this soothing touch of tender golden sun­rays calm and peaceful ripples seemed to smile. The quiet and still sea was breathing noiselessly. The sailors failed to descry the great ship which had disappeared with the storm. The prisoners rejoiced over their newly-won freedom.

“Buddhagupta! Who unlocked and released you?” demanded the Chief Sailor.

“Look here,” and flashing his knife, Buddhagupta replied­ “This knife freed me!”

“I’ll again put youunder arrest,” grinned the Chief Sailor.

“But on whose behalf? Manibhadra, the Captain of the ship, must be resting somewhere at the bottom of the deep sea, Remember, now I am, the master ofthis boat.”

“You? Sea-pitateBuddhagupta, master of this boat? No. Never!” shouted the astonished Chief and looked for his sea knife; but Champa had already relieved him ofit. Stung by a rancorous wrath he sprang aside.

“I challenge youto a duel; the winner shall command the boat.” And Buddhagupta beckoned to Champa to hand him over his knife.

A fierce scuffle ensued. Both were heaving with swift agility and tried to vanquish the other with ingenious and artful manoeuvres. Clenching his knife between his teeth, Buddhagupta craftily contrived to free his hands. Champa watched the two veterans with wonder and awe but the other sailors did not feel sorry for them. Buddhagupta surreptitiously caught the Chief’s hand holding the knife and with an ear-splitting whistle pulled him at the waist and knocked him down. The victorious Buddhagupta’s knife gleamed in the morning sunlight and the Chief’s eyes wide with imminent danger begged far life.

“Speak! Do you fall in with me now?” asked Buddhagupta.

“Yes, my lord! I am your bond slave; I swear by the Sea God; You will never find me treacherous and ungrateful. I promise!”

Buddhagupta released him.

Champa moved towords the young sea-robber and with her kindly looks and gentle patting dispelled the smarting pain his wounds were causing him. Crimson blood drops on Buddhagupta’s stalwart and swarthy body glistened with joy of his victory.

After a little pause, Buddhagupta asked, “Where are we?”

“Far off the shore of Bali; perhaps near a new island less frequented by Indian sailors. The Ceylonese traders enjoy supremacy there.”

“How long will it take us to reach! there?”

“Two days, if the wind is favourable. We have enough food for these days.”

Suddenly the Chief Sailor called a warning to the sailors and himself took up the oars. “There is a submerged rock here; we might wreck on it if we are not careful,” he informed Buddha­gupta.

“Why did these people make you a slave girl?”,

“Manibhadra, the Captain of the ship, had an evil eye on me!”

“Where do you hail from?”

“I am a Rajput maid from the city of Champa on the bank of the river Jamuna. My father was a watchman in the service of Manibhadra. I had lost my mother and accompanied my father on the boat. For the past eight years the sea has been my home. When your gang attacked us, my father killed seven sea-robbers and then a fatal wound sent him to the bottom of the sea. For over a month I have been leading, a forlorn and miserable life between the blue sky and the purple ocean; ever haunted by a solitary seclusion. Alas! my parents! ... Manibhadra, one day impudently articulated his licentious desires and when I rebuffed and rebuked him, he took mea prisoner.” Champa incensed with suppressed anger.

“I also belong to a Rajput clan of Tamralipti, Champa; but ill-luck has driven me to the sea to live the life of a robber. What are your plans now?”

“I have left my future unplanned and undirected. It may blow me wherever it pleases.” And she raised her eyes towards the vast firmament and gazed there aimlessly. Her cheeks didn’t glow with the faintest radiance of desire but her motionless eyes gleamed with a childlike faith. This sent a shiver through the steel frame of the pirate who traded in death and disaster. A sense of awe coupled with mysterious reverence touched and inspired the first ripples of youth in his heart. Crimson rays of late evening sun descended in a swirl on the vast expanse of the ocean. Champa’s dishevelled hair flowed like a cascade on her and conjured up before the cruel and callous sea­-robber a vision of the daughter of the Sea God Varuna draped in divine glory. Out of a weird and uncanny curiosity he peeped into his heart and discerned there an ineffable font of benign compassion.

“We have reached our journey’s end and must make a landing!” The Chief Sailor announced.

The boat touched the island shore and Champa fearlessly jumped on to it; other sailors followed suit.

“As the island has remained nameless so far,” declared Buddhagupta, let us christen it ‘Champa’.

Champa beamed into a smile.

Five long years elapsed.

Brilliant winter stars twinkling on the dark sky appeared like flowers and parched rice blown up by the winter-goddess to celebrate the victorious march of the moon and to pronounce benediction on her. Champa, who had blossomed forth into a fine and vivacious damsel, was one day sitting on a high wall of the island palace and trying to light an earthen lamp. She circumspectly put the lighted lamp in a mica case and with her tender fingers gently pulled the string. The lamp case began to rise high and Champa’s joyful eyes watched its course. She was pulling the string slowly so that she could see her lamp case join the company of twinkling stars and be lost among them playfully. But it was just a wishful thinking and she cast her eyes down.

Before her eyes lay the fathomless ocean bathed in soft moonlight. The submerged rocks were tossing up diamonds and sapphires for the daughters of Varuna to play with and those illusory apparitions disappeared leaving behind them a trail of gentle laughter. The fishermen were playing on their pipes in some distant corner and the whole atmosphere was replete with their sweet music. Champa saw her lamp case reflected into the deep moving waters of the ocean; but the reflection was intermittently broken by gentle ripples. The lamp case whirled in circles to achieve perfection and wholeness, but in vain. Lost in thoughts she rose and finding no one nearby called out to Jaya.

A dark young aborigine maid stood before her chuckling and her pearl white teeth sparkled like stars on the dark blue sky. She addressed Champa as “queen” for so had Buddhagupta ordained. Champa sent her to find out when the Great Sailor was expected home.

The wind blowing from far off lands sought refuge under the recesses of the folds of Champa’s shawl. It sent a thrill through her heart and made her quiver. Unmindful of her surroundings she was ruminating over past remembrances when a swarthy young­man gently patted her on the . She gave a start and turned to face him. “Buddhagupta!” spluttered from her mouth.

“Have you lost your wits? You are lighting a clay lamp, sitting over here. Does it befit you?”

“To propitiate the insatiate ocean and its God sleeping on a milky bed, should I ask the servant girls to light the lamp?”

“It surprises me! Whom do you think your lamp will guide on the dark seas? Do you wish to illumine the path of your Lord?”

“May be! He also often deviates from the right track and errs; or else why should he have proffered such luxuries on Buddhagupta?”
“Don’t you like them, Champa? You are the queen of this island.”

“Release me from this prison house, will you? Now the whole trade of Bali, Java and Sumatra is under your sway, Great Sailor; but I fondly remember the days when you had only one small boat and we led an insoucient and happy life peddling our wares on and around the shores of Champa. Often our boat frolicked on the playful ripples of this sea in the dusky light of the day dawn or of the glitter of twinkling stars. Buddhagupta, on that lonely vast expanse, when the sailors were asleep and the lamps went out, why did we, broken with the fatigue of the day’s hard labour, wrap ourselves in sails and gazed at each other….That sweet canopy of stars….”

“But Champa, now we have better means of moving about. You gave me life; you are my proud possession, my treasure!”

“No! You might have given up piracy but your heart still burns with cruelty, avarice and desire. You scoff at the mention of God, and deprecate my sky lamp. Sailor, have you forgotten how we longed for a single ray of light on that dreadful stormy night? I wishfully remember my childhood days: when my father went to sea on service, my mother put a small clay lamp in a bamboo basket and hung it high on the bank of the Jamuna. She prayed to God to take care of her sailor-husband and bring him to the right path whenever he missed his way. And when my father returned home after long absence he would say. “O pious lady, your prayers have guarded me in times of great peril on the sea. ‘This filled her with joy.’ Oh, Sailor, this is how I cherish the memory of my mother. But my father ... Sea-­pirate, you put him to death; you slew him ... Get away from here. Suddenly she glowed with unrestrained rage. The Great Sailor had never imagined she hated him so bitterly from the core of her heart. He rose on his feet and smiled.

“What is all this, Champa? You will be unwell. Please go to bed and rest” said he but Champa sauntered madly with her fists clenched tightly.

On the lovely spa beach the waves are breaking against the shore and returning quietly. Journeying towards the west the sun has grown pale and the sea with its calm deep resignation appears to be lost in meditation like a recluse unmindful of the piercing sunbeams.

Strolling on the sea beach Champa and Jaya came to the edge of the shore and enjoyed the sight of the glorious sea. A gentle breeze prompted by the sea waves ruffled their dress. Jaya clapped and a small boat appeared near the shore; they both boarded it and the sailor got off. Jaya took the oars. Reflecting on her past, Champa wished to lose her identity in the vast loneliness filling the void.

“Before my eyes lies the vast expanse of water so cool and refreshing, but unable to quench the thirst of my heart; can I drink it? No. Then should I scream and groan like the sea which rumbles with anguish and breaks on the shore? Or should I fade out like the burning orb of the sun which sinks into the sea and disappears?” And lo! the sun, red with rage and agony dipped into the sea; first a quarter, then half and then the whole of it. Champa uttered a deep sigh and turned her face away.

The pleasure-boat of the Great Sailor was drawing closer to their boat. Buddhagupta leaned from his boat and stretched his arm. Champa clapsed it and jumped into his boat to sit beside him.

“It is not safe to row on this side in such a small boat. The submerged rock is somewhere here and supposing your boat struck against it or rode over it, then...?”

“It would be the best moment for me, Buddhagupta! You don’t know, how earnestly I desire to be engulfed by the sea than remain enthralled in the citadel you have raised round me.”

“Ah! Champa, you are so cruel and cynical. Say a word of command and then see what Buddhagupta can do for you! He has discovered for you a new island with new people and raised a new state. You can once again put his fidelity on trial and “If you ask, Champa, he can tear open his breast and pluck­ing out His heart with his own hands can hurl it into the deepest sea!” The Great Sailor whose name echoed through the skies, of Bali, Java and Champa causing terror among the wild winds, knelt before Champa, with his eyes suffused and glistening with tears.

The soft yellow evening light playing on the verdurous hill top yonder and its restful gentle shadows in that vast expanse of water created not only a bewitching natural scene but a weird dreamland. The mysterious blue web of enchantment reverberated, with a series of soft warbling and gentle cooing.        The whole horizon seemed doused in a maddening wine. A thousand blue lilies suddenly raised their heads and swayed by their hypnotic sweet scent, Champa held Buddhagupta by the hands and clasped him in an eternal embrace like the sea which rolls into the sky at the horizon. This sudden embrace quickened her feelings of revenge and she drew out her dagger from under her blouse; “Buddhagupta, I wish to bury this dagger of revenge deep down in the fathomless sea. My capricious heart has played mischief with me; it has duped and deceived me a hundred times.” For a moment the dagger flashed in the faint evening light glow, pierced the sheet of water and disappeared into the unknown depths.

“Should I feel reassured that I have been forgiven today?” impetuously asked the Great Sailor in a tremulous voice filled with emotion.

“Feel reassured! No. Never. Buddhagupta, I have lost faith in myself; I have failed to win over my heart; then how can I reassure you? I detest you but I can sacrifice myself for you, Darkness shrouds me, O Sea-pirate! I love you.” She flushed and tears long-restrained in her eyes silently rolled down her cheeks.

The evening with its splendorous sweet dreams slowly passed into the cruel jaws of darkness. The Great Sailor heaved out a long pent up sigh and said, “To preserve and perpetuate the memory of these blissful moments of my life, I shall erect a light­house, Champa. Here, yonder, on that hill. May be it illumines the dusky-evening of my life!”

On the other end of Champa, there was a series of delightful ridges stretching far into the sea. The native islanders of Champa had gathered on these ridges which were doused and often embossomed by the playful sea waves and were holding festive celebrations. Champa adorned as the forest goddess was carried in an open palanquin flanked by a contingent of soldiers from Tamralipti.

The festivities today were being held to inaugurate a strong and invulnerable lighthouse that had been erected on the hill-top for the guidance of the sailors of Champa. Standing at the entrance of the lighthouse, Buddhagupta, helped Champa alight from the palanquin and together they walked into the lighthouse. Sweet music flowing from pipes and bugles and the beating of drums greeted them. Sylvan girls embellished with wreaths and crowns of fragrant wild flowers, standing in rows, swirled into a dance and showered flowers on them.

Peeping through the top window of the lighthouse, Champa enquired of Jaya wherefrom she had collected forest girls in such a large number.

“Don’t you know, our ‘queen’ is marrying today!” said Jaya chuckling to herself.

Buddhagupta was watching the vast expanse of the sea with rapt adoration. Champa gently patted him on the and asked if it was true.

“Can be, if you wish! You little know how long I have restrained a smouldering volcano in my breast!”

“Don’t tell me that, Great Sailor! Have you planned revenge on me: a poor and helpless lass?”

“I did not slay your father, Champa. He fell victim to another pirate’s attack.”

“Ah! Could I convince myself of this? That would be the happiest day in my life; the most-cherished moment and in spite of your malignant savagery and atrocious wickedness, you would rise to great heights in my estimation!”

When Jaya had left, Buddhagupta and Champa gazed at each other in the loneliness that filled that narrow cell. Touching Champa’s feet, Buddhagupta poured out his feelings in a sigh, “Champa, cut off from our motherland India, we are adored like Lord Indra and his queen by these simple aborigines but some baneful curse has so far precluded our union. I wishfully remember that land of seers; that glory incarnate. It haunts me every moment, but I can’t go there. Do you know why? In spite of all the glory that has been heaped on me, I still feel a pauper at heart. This cold and petrified heart of mine melted once like a moonstone when you abruptly embraced me.

“Champa, I have no faith in God or sin; I am averse to pity or compassion; I don’t believe in the world beyond, but I have developed a fondness for you and I adore that weakness of my heart. I don’t know how you rose like a lonely starlet in the void of my heart; how a tender beam of light dispelled the darkness; how an innocent and lovely desire sprouted into laughter in the heart of one who paid homage only to brute force and lust for gold! Alas! it failed to add any joy to my living.

“Will you join me, Champa, as the lady of my heart to the bosom of our motherland with this immense wealth loaded on our ships? Let’s enter into wedlock today and set sail for India tomorrow. The sea waves obey the command of the Great Sailor Buddhagupta, and like the southern winds they will propel our ships to the shore of India. Champa, come along with me, please!”

Champa held him by the hand and under a sudden impulse gave him a smack on the lips, but regaining her self-control the next moment, she replied, “Buddhagupta, all land is just earth for me; all water is liquid and all wind, cold. No particular desire burns in my heart like an unquenched fire. Everything put together makes a zero for me. Please return to your motherland, dear sailor, and enjoy all your wealth and luxuries, but leave me behind to serve these simple folks; to alleviate their sufferings and to add a little light to their life.”

“Well, I must go, for I fear I shall not be able to restrain my feelings here! I don’t know what waves may spell disaster on me!” whispered the Great Sailor, with a sigh of distress. “What will you do here, all alone?”

“Once I wished to explore in the light of this lighthouse, the place where my father had drowned in these waters; but now I feel convinced that I shall have to burn like a sky lamp.”

One day in the golden mist of the early morning, Champa watched a fleet of sea-boats, swaying like a large water snake, sailing towards the north-west. She stood listless in the lighthouse and a silent tear rolled down her cheek.

She lighted the lamp in that lighthouse till she breathed her last. Then the islanders worshipped it as a monument of that goddess of love and compassion. One day the cruel hands of Time pulled it down for fun.