The Poison Tree | Page 5

a pure blue--that glorious
blue when the moon is encircled by a halo. Kunda had never seen the
halo so large as it seemed in her vision. The light was splendid, and
refreshing to the eyes. But in the midst of that magnificent halo there
was no moon; in its place Kunda saw the figure of a goddess of
unparalleled brilliance. It seemed as if this brilliant goddess-ruled halo
left the upper sky and descended gradually lower, throwing out a
thousand rays of light, until it stood over Kunda's head. Then she saw
that the central beauty, crowned with golden hair, and decked with
jewels, had the form of a woman. The beautiful, compassionate face
had a loving smile upon its lips. Kunda recognized, with mingled joy
and fear, in this compassionate being the features of her long-dead
mother. The shining, loving being, raising Kunda from the earth, took
her into her bosom, and the orphan girl could for a long period do

nought but utter the sweet word "Mother!"
Then the shining figure, kissing Kunda's face, said to her: "Child, thou
hast suffered much, and I know thou hast yet more to suffer; thou so
young, thy tender frame cannot endure such sorrow. Therefore abide
not here; leave the earth and come with me."
Kunda seemed to reply: "Whither shall I go?"
Then the mother, with uplifted finger indicating the shining
constellations, answered, "There!"
Kunda seemed, in her dream, to gaze into the timeless, shoreless ocean
of stars, and to say, "I have no strength; I cannot go so far."
Hearing this, the mother's kind and cheerful but somewhat grave face
saddened, her brows knitted a little, as she said in grave, sweet tones:
"Child, follow thy own will, but it would be well for thee to go with me.
The day will come when thou wilt gaze upon the stars, and long bitterly
to go thither. I will once more appear to thee; when, bowed to the dust
with affliction, thou rememberest me, and weepest to come to me, I
will return. Then do thou come. But now do thou, looking on the
horizon, follow the design of my finger. I will show thee two human
figures. These two beings are in this world the arbiters of thy destiny. If
possible, when thou meetest them turn away as from venomous snakes.
In their paths walk thou not."
Then the shining figure pointed to the opposite sky. Kunda, following
the indication, saw traced on the blue vault the figure of a man more
beautiful than a god. Beholding his high, capacious forehead, his
sincere kindly glance, his swan-like neck a little bent, and other traits of
a fine man, no one would have believed that from him there was
anything to be feared.
Then the figure dissolving as a cloud in the sky, the mother said--
"Forget not this god-like form. Though benevolent, he will be the cause

of thy misery; therefore avoid him as a snake."
Again pointing to the heavens she continued--
"Look hither."
Kunda, looking, saw a second figure sketched before her, not this time
that of a man, but a young woman of bright complexion and
lotus-shaped eyes. At this sight she felt no fear; but the mother said--
"This dark figure in a woman's dress is a Rakshasi.[2] When thou seest
her, flee from her."
[Footnote 2: A female demon.]
As she thus spoke the heavens suddenly became dark, the halo
disappeared from the sky, and with it the bright figure in its midst.
Then Kunda awoke from her sleep.
Nagendra went to the village, the name of which he heard was
Jhunjhunpur. At his recommendation and expense, some of the
villagers performed the necessary rites for the dead, one of the female
neighbours remaining with the bereaved girl. When Kunda saw that
they had taken her father away, she became convinced of his death, and
gave way to ceaseless weeping.
In the morning the neighbour returned to her own house, but sent her
daughter Champa to comfort Kunda Nandini.
Champa was of the same age as Kunda, and her friend. She strove to
divert her mind by talking of various matters, but she saw that Kunda
did not attend. She wept constantly, looking up every now and then into
the sky as though in expectation.
Champa jestingly asked, "What do you see that you look into the sky a
hundred times?"
Kunda replied, "My mother appeared to me yesterday, and bade me go

with her, but I feared to do so; now I mourn that I did not. If she came
again I would go: therefore I look constantly into the sky."
Champa said, "How can the dead return?"
To which Kunda replied by relating her vision.
Greatly astonished, Champa asked, "Are you acquainted with the