The King of the Dark Chamber | Page 7

not handsome. To call him
beautiful would be to say far too little about him.
SUDARSHANA. All your words are like that--dark, strange, and vague.
I cannot understand what you mean.
SURANGAMA. No, I will not call him handsome. And it is because he
is not beautiful that he is so wonderful, so superb, so miraculous!
SUDARSHANA. I do not quite understand you--though I like to hear
you talk about him. But I must see him at any cost. I do not even
remember the day when I was married to him. I have heard mother say
that a wise man came before my marriage and said, "He who will wed
your daughter is without a second on this earth." How often have I
asked her to describe his appearance to me, but she only answers
vaguely, and says she cannot say--she saw him through a veil, faintly
and obscurely. But if he is the best among men, how can I sit still
without seeing him?
SURANGAMA. Do you not feel a faint breeze blowing?
SUDARSHANA. A breeze? Where?
SURANGAMA. Do you not smell a soft perfume?
SUDARSHANA. No, I don't.
SURANGAMA. The large door has opened ... he is coming; my King
is coming in.
SUDARSHANA. How can you perceive when he comes?
SURANGAMA. I cannot say: I seem to hear his footsteps in my own

heart. Being his servant of this dark chamber, I have developed a
sense--I can know and feel without seeing.
SUDARSHANA. Would that I had this sense too, Surangama!
SURANGAMA. You will have it, O Queen ... this sense will awaken in
you one day. Your longing to have a sight of him makes you restless,
and therefore all your mind is strained and warped in that direction.
When you are past this state of feverish restlessness, everything will
become quite easy.
SUDARSHANA. How is it that it is easy to you, who are a servant, and
so difficult to me, the Queen?
SURANGAMA. It is because I am a mere servant that no difficulty
baulks me. On the first day, when he left this room to my care, saying,
"Surangama, you will always keep this chamber ready for me: this is all
your task," then I did not say, even in thought, "Oh, give me the work
of those who keep the other rooms lighted." No, but as soon as I bent
all my mind to my task, a power woke and grew within me, and
mastered every part of me unopposed.... Oh, there he comes! ... he is
standing outside, before the door. Lord! O King!
SONG outside.
/* Open your door. I am waiting. The ferry of the light from the dawn
to the dark is done for the day, The evening star is up. Have you
gathered your flowers, braided your hair, And donned your white robe
for the night? The cattle have come to their folds and birds to their
nests. The cross paths that run to all quarters have merged into one in
the dark. Open your door. I am waiting. */
SURANGAMA. O King, who can keep thy own doors shut against
thee? They are not locked or bolted--they will swing wide open if you
only touch them with thy fingers. Wilt thou not even touch them? Wilt
thou not enter unless I go and open the doors?
SONG.
/* At a breath you can remove my veils, my lord! If I fall asleep on the
dust and hear not your call, would you wait till I wake? Would not the
thunder of your chariot wheel make the earth tremble? Would you not
burst open the door and enter your own house unbidden? */
Then do you go, O Queen, and open the door for him: he will not enter
otherwise.
SUDARSHANA. I do not see anything distinctly in the dark--I do not

know where the doors are. You know everything here--go and open the
doors for me.
[SURANGAMA opens the door, bows to the KING, and goes out. The
KING will remain invisible throughout this play.]
SUDARSHANA. Why do you not allow me to see you in the light?
KING. So you want to see me in the midst of a thousand things in
broad daylight! Why should I not be the only thing you can feel in this
darkness?
SUDARSHANA. But I must see you--I am longing to have a sight of
you.
KING. You will not be able to bear the sight of me--it will only give
you pain, poignant and overpowering.
SUDARSHANA. How can you say that I shall be unable to bear your
sight? Oh, I can feel even in this dark how lovely and wonderful you
are: why should I be afraid of you in the light? But tell me, can you see