The King of the Dark Chamber | Page 5

the first report of thy coming--I did not stop to hear what people were saying: all the loyalty in me went out towards thee, O Monarch, and brought me here.
THIRD MAN. Rubbish! I came here earlier than you--before the cockcrow. Where were you then? O King, I am Bhadrasena, of Vikramasthali. Deign to keep thy servant in thy memory!
"KING". I am much pleased with your loyalty and devotion.
VIVAJADATTA. Your Majesty, many are the grievances and complaints we have to make to thee: to whom could we turn our prayers so long, when we could not approach thy august presence?
"KING". Your grievances will all be redressed. [Exit.]
FIRST MAN. It won't do to lag behind, boys--the King will lose sight of us if we get mixed up with the mob.
SECOND MAN. See there-look what that fool Narottam is doing! He has elbowed his way through all of us and is now sedulously fanning the King with a palm leaf!
MADHAV. Indeed! Well, well, the sheer audacity of the man takes one's breath away.
SECOND MAN. We shall have to pitch the fellow out of that place--is he fit to stand beside the King?
MADHAV. Do you imagine the King will not see through him? His loyalty is obviously a little too showy and profuse.
FIRST MAN. Nonsense! Kings can't scent hypocrites as we do--I should not be surprised if the King be taken in by that fool's strenuous fanning.
[Enter KUMBHA with GRANDFATHER]
KUMBHA. I tell you--he has just passed by this street.
GRANDFATHER. Is that a very infallible test of Kingship?
KUMBHA. Oh no, he did not pass unobserved: not one or two men but hundreds and thousands on both sides of the street have seen him with their own eyes.
GRANDFATHER. That is exactly what makes the whole affair suspicious. When ever has our King set out to dazzle the eyes of the people by pomp and pageantry? He is not the King to make such a thundering row over his progress through the country.
KUMBHA. But he may just have chosen to do so on this important occasion: you cannot really tell.
GRANDFATHER. Oh yes, you can! My King cherishes no weathercock fancy, no fantastic vein.
KUMBHA. But, Grandfather, I wish I could only describe him! So soft, so delicate and exquisite like a waxen doll! As I looked on him, I yearned to shelter him from the sun, to protect him with my whole body.
GRANDFATHER. Fool, O precious ass that you are! My King a waxen doll, and you to protect him!
KUMBHA. But seriously, Grandpa, he is a superb god, a miracle of beauty: I do not find a single other figure in this vast assembly that can stand beside his peerless loveliness.
GRANDFATHER. If my King chose to make himself shown, your eyes would not have noticed him. He would not stand out like that amongst others--he is one of the people, he mingles with the common populace.
KUMBHA. But did I not tell you I saw his banner?
GRANDFATHER. What did you see displayed on his banner?
KUMBHA. It had a red Kimshuk flower painted on it--the bright and glittering scarlet dazzled my eyes.
GRANDFATHER. My King has a thunderbolt within a lotus painted on his flag.
KUMBHA. But every one is saying, the King is out in this festival: every one.
GRANDFATHER. Why, so he is, of course: but he has no heralds, no army, no retinue, no music bands or lights to accompany him.
KUMBHA. So none could recognise him in his incognito, it seems.
GRANDFATHER. Perhaps there are a few that can.
KUMBHA. And those that can recognise him--does the King grant them whatever they ask for?
GRANDFATHER. But they never ask for anything. No beggar will ever know the King. The greater beggar appears like the King to the eyes of the lesser beggar. O fool, the man that has come out to-day attired in crimson and gold to beg from you--it is him whom you are trumpeting as your King! ... Ah, there comes my mad friend! Oh come, my brothers! we cannot spend the day in idle wrangling and prating--let us now have some mad frolic, some wild enjoyment!
[Enter the MAD FRIEND, who sings]
/* Do you smile, my friends? Do you laugh, my brothers? I roam in search of the golden stag! Ah yes, the fleet-foot vision that ever eludes me!
Oh, he flits and glimpses like a flash and then is gone, the untamed rover of the wilds! Approach him and he is afar in a trice, leaving a cloud of haze and dust before thy eyes!
Yet I roam in search of the golden stag, though I may never catch him in these wilds! Oh, I roam and wander through woods and fields and nameless lands like a restless vagabond, never caring to turn my back.
You all come and buy in the marketplace and go back to your homes laden with goods and