The King of the Dark Chamber | Page 8

Then how can there be any union at all between us, in a place like this? No, no--it is impossible: there is a barrier betwixt us two: not here, no, not in this place. I want to find you and see you where I see trees and animals, birds and stones and the earth
KING. Very well, you can try to find me--but none will point me out to you. You will have to recognise me, if you can, yourself. And even if anybody professes to show me to you, how can you be sure he is speaking the truth?
SUDARSHANA. I shall know you; I shall recognise you. I shall find you out among a million men. I cannot be mistaken.
KING. Very well, then, to-night, during the festival of the full moon of the spring, you will try to find me out from the high turret of my palace--search for me with your own eyes amongst the crowd of people.
SUDARSHANA. Wilt thou be there among them?
KING. I shall show myself again and again, from every side of the crowd. Surangama!
[Enter SURANGAMA]
SURANGAMA. What is thy pleasure, lord?
KING. To-night is the full moon festival of the spring.
SURANGAMA. What have I to do to-night?
KING. To-day is a festive day, not a day of work. The pleasure gardens are in their full bloom--you will join in my festivities there.
SURANGAMA. I shall do as thou desirest, lord.
KING. The Queen wants to see me to-night with her own eyes.
SURANGAMA. Where will the Queen see you?
KING. Where the music will play at its sweetest, where the air will be heavy with the dust of flowers--there in the pleasure grove of silver light and mellow gloom.
SURANGAMA. What can be seen in the hide-and-seek of darkness and light? There the wind is wild and restless, everything is dance and swift movement--will it not puzzle the eyes?
KING. The Queen is curious to search me out.
SURANGAMA. Curiosity will have to come back baffled and in tears!
SONG.
/* Ah, they would fly away, the restless vagrant eyes, the wild birds of the forest! But the time of their surrender will come, their flights hither and thither will be ended when The music of enchantment will pursue them and pierce their hearts. Alas, the wild birds would fly to the wilderness! */

III
[Before the Pleasure Gardens. Enter AVANTI, KOSHALA, KANCHI, and other KINGS]
AVANTI. Will the King of this place not receive us?
KANCHI. What manner of governing a country is this? The King is having a festival in a forest, where even the meanest and commonest people can have easy access!
KOSHALA. We ought to have had a separate place set apart and ready for our reception.
KANCHI. If he has not prepared such a place yet, we shall compel him to have one erected for us.
KOSHALA. All this makes one naturally suspect if these people have really got any King at all--it looks as if an unfounded rumour has led us astray.
AVANTI. It may be so with regard to the King, but the Queen Sudarshana of this place isn't at all an unfounded rumour.
KOSHALA. It is only for her sake that I have cared to come at all. I don't mind omitting to see one who never makes himself visible, but it would be a stupid mistake if we were to go away without a sight of one who is eminently worth a visit.
KANCHI. Let us make some definite plan, then.
AVANTI. A plan is an excellent thing, so long as you are not yourself entangled in it.
KANCHI. Hang it, who are these vermin swarming this way? Here! who are you?
[Enter GRANDFATHER and the boys]
GRANDFATHER. We are the Jolly Band of Have-Nothings.
AVANTI. The introduction was superfluous. But you will take yourselves away a little further and leave us in peace.
GRANDFATHER. We never suffer from a want of space: we can afford to give you as wide a berth as you like. What little suffices for us is never the bone of contention between any rival claimants. Is not that so, my little friends? [They sing.]
SONG.
/* We have nothing, indeed we have nothing at all! We sing merrily fol de rol de rol! Some build high walls of their houses On the bog of the sands of gold. We stand before them and sing Fol de rol de rol. Pickpockets hover about us And honour us with covetous glances. We shake our empty pockets and sing Fol de rol de rol. When death, the old hag, steals to our doors We snap our fingers at her face, And we sing in a chorus with gay flourishes Fol de rol de rol. */
KANCHI. Look over there, Koshala, who are those coming this way? A pantomime? Somebody is out masquerading as a King.
KOSHALA. The King of this place may tolerate all this tomfoolery, but we won't.
AVANTI. He is perhaps some rural chief.
[Enter