Chitra, a Play in One Act | Page 5

keep guard at night at the entrance of his tent, and help him in all the great duties of a Kshatriya, rescuing the weak, and meting out justice where it is due. Surely at last the day would have come for him to look at me and wonder, "What boy is this? Has one of my slaves in a former life followed me like my good deeds into this?" I am not the woman who nourishes her despair in lonely silence, feeding it with nightly tears and covering it with the daily patient smile, a widow from her birth. The flower of my desire shall never drop into the dust before it has ripened to fruit. But it is the labour of a life time to make one's true self known and honoured. Therefore I have come to thy door, thou world-vanquishing Love, and thou, Vasanta, youthful Lord of the Seasons, take from my young body this primal injustice, an unattractive plainness. For a single day make me superbly beautiful, even as beautiful as was the sudden blooming of love in my heart. Give me but one brief day of perfect beauty, and I will answer for the days that follow.
Madana
Lady, I grant thy prayer.
Vasanta
Not for the short span of a day, but for one whole year the charm of spring blossoms shall nestle round thy limbs.
SCENE II
Arjuna
WAS I dreaming or was what I saw by the lake truly there? Sitting on the mossy turf, I mused over bygone years in the sloping shadows of the evening, when slowly there came out from the folding darkness of foliage an apparition of beauty in the perfect form of a woman, and stood on a white slab of stone at the water's brink. It seemed that the heart of the earth must heave in joy under her bare white feet. Methought the vague veilings of her body should melt in ecstasy into air as the golden mist of dawn melts from off the snowy peak of the eastern hill. She bowed herself above the shining mirror of the lake and saw the reflection of her face. She started up in awe and stood still; then smiled, and with a careless sweep of her left arm unloosed her hair and let it trail on the earth at her feet. She bared her bosom and looked at her arms, so flawlessly modelled, and instinct with an exquisite caress. Bending her head she saw the sweet blossoming of her youth and the tender bloom and blush of her skin. She beamed with a glad surprise. So, if the white lotus bud on opening her eyes in the morning were to arch her neck and see her shadow in the water, would she wonder at herself the livelong day. But a moment after the smile passed from her face and a shade of sadness crept into her eyes. She bound up her tresses, drew her veil over her arms, and sighing slowly, walked away like a beauteous evening fading into the night. To me the supreme fulfilment of desire seemed to have been revealed in a flash and then to have vanished. . . . But who is it that pushes the door?
Enter CHITRA, dressed as a woman.
Ah! it is she. Quiet, my heart! . . . Fear me not, lady! I am a Kshatriya.
Chitra
Honoured sir, you are my guest. I live in this temple. I know not in what way I can show you hospitality.
Arjuna
Fair lady, the very sight of you is indeed the highest hospitality. If you will not take it amiss I would ask you a question.
Chitra
You have permission.
Arjuna
What stern vow keeps you immured in this solitary temple, depriving all mortals of a vision of so much loveliness?
Chitra
I harbour a secret desire in my heart, for the fulfilment of which I offer daily prayers to Lord Shiva.
Arjuna
Alas, what can you desire, you who are the desire of the whole world! From the easternmost hill on whose summit the morning sun first prints his fiery foot to the end of the sunset land have I travelled. I have seen whatever is most precious, beautiful and great on the earth. My knowledge shall be yours, only say for what or for whom you seek.
Chitra
He whom I seek is known to all.
Arjuna
Indeed! Who may this favourite of the gods be, whose fame has captured your heart?
Chitra
Sprung from the highest of all royal houses, the greatest of all heroes is he.
Arjuna
Lady, offer not such wealth of beauty as is yours on the altar of false reputation. Spurious fame spreads from tongue to tongue like the fog of the early dawn before the sun rises. Tell me who in the highest of kingly lines is the supreme hero?
Chitra
Hermit, you are jealous of other men's fame. Do you not