Indian Idylls of The Mahabharata E-Book

Veda Vyasa

• Herausgeber: Interactive Media
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Indian Idylls of The Mahabharata

Leseprobe

Veda Vyasa

Indian Idylls of The Mahabharata (Hindu Library)

New Edition

New Edition

Published by The Big Nest

This Edition

First published in 2020

Copyright © 2020 The Big Nest

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 9781787363311

Contents

SAVITIRI: LOVE AND DEATH.

NALA AND DAMAYANTI.

THE ENCHANTED LAKE.

THE SAINT’S TEMPTATION.

THE BIRTH OF DEATH.

THE NIGHT OF SLAUGHTER.

THE GREAT JOURNEY.

THE ENTRY INTO HEAVEN.

SAVITIRI: LOVE AND DEATH.

“I mourn not for myself’,” quoth Yudhisthir,

“Nor for my hero-brothers; but because

Draupadi hath been taken from us now.

Never was seen or known another such,

As queenly, true, and faithful to her vows,

As Draupadi.”

Then said Markandya:

Wilt thou hear, Prince, of such another soul,

Wherein the nobleness of Draupadi

Dwell, of old days,- the Princess Sâvitrî?

THERE was a Raja, pious-minded, just,

King of the Mâdras,-valiant, wise, and true;

Victorious over sense, a worshipper;

Liberal in giving, prudent., dear alike

To peasant and to townsman; one whose joy

Lived in the weal of all men-Aswapati -

Patient, and free of any woe, he reigned,

Save that his manhood passing, left him ]one,

A childless lord; for this he grieved; for this

Heavy observances he underwent,

Subduing needs of flesh, and oftentimes

Making high sacrifice to Sâvitrî;

While, for all food, at each sixth watch he took

A little measured dole; and thus he did

Through sixteen years, most excellent of Kings

Till at the last, divinest Sâvitrî

Grew well-content, and, taking shining shape,

Rose through the flames of sacrifice and showed

Unto that prince her heavenly countenance.

“Raja,” the Goddess said - the Gift-bringer -

Thy piety, thy purity, thy fasts,

The largesse of thy hands, thy heart’s wide love,

Thy strength of faith, have pleased me. Choose some boon.

Thy dearest wish, Monarch of Mâdra, ask;

It is not meet such merit go in vain.”

The Raja answered: “Goddess, for the sake

Of children I did bear these heavy vows:

If thou art well-content, grant me, I pray,

Fair babes, continuers of my royal line;

This is the boon I choose, obeying law:

For - say the holy seers - the first great law

Is that a man leave seed.”

The Goddess said:

I knew thine answer, Raja, ere it came;

And He, the Maker of all, hath heard my word

That this might be. The self-existent One

Consenteth. Born there shall be unto thee

A girl more sweet than any eyes have seen;

There is not found on earth so fair a maid

I that rejoice in the Great Father’s will

Know this and tell thee.”

“Oh, so may it be

The Raja cried, once and again; and she,

The Goddess, smiled anew, and vanished so.-

While Aswapati to his palace went.

‘there dwelled he, doing justice to all folk;

Till, when the hour was good, the wise King lay

With her that was his first and fairest wife,

And she conceived a girl (a girl, my liege

Better than many boys), which wonder grew

In darkness, - as the Moon among the stars

Grows from a ring of silver to a round

In the month’s waxing days, - and when time came

The Queen a daughter bore, with lotus-eyes,

Lovely of mould. joyous that Raja made

The birth-feast; and because the fair gift fell

From Sâvitrî the Goddess, and because

It was her day of sacrifice, they gave

The name of “Sâvitrî” unto the child.

In grace and beauty grew the maid, as if

Lakshmi’s own self had taken woman’s form.

And when swift years her gracious youth made ripe,

Like to an image of dark gold she seemed

Gleaming, with waist so fine, and breasts so deep,

And limbs so rounded. When she moved, all eyes

Gazed after her, as though an Apsara

Had lighted out of Swarga. Not one dared,

Of all the noblest lords, to ask for wife

That miracle, with eyes purple and soft

As lotus-petals, that pure perfect maid,

Whose face shed heavenly light where she did go.

Once she had fasted, laved her head, and bowed

Before the shrine of Agni, - as is meet,

And sacrificed, and spoken what is set

Unto the Brahmans - taking at their hands

The unconsumed offerings, and so passed

Into her father’s presence - bright as ‘Sri,

If ‘Sri were woman! - Meekly at his feet

She laid the blossoms; meekly bent her head,

Folded her palms, and stood, radiant with grace,

Beside the Raja. He, beholding her

Come to her growth, and thus divinely fair,

Yet sued of none, was grieved at heart and spake

“Daughter, ‘tis time we wed thee, but none comes

Asking thee; therefore, thou thyself some youth

Choose for thy lord, a virtuous prince: whoso

Is dear to thee, he shall be dear to me

For this the rule is- by the sages taught

Hear the commandment, noble maid - ‘That sire

Who giveth not his child in marriage

Is blamable; and blamable that king

Who weddeth not; and blamable that son

Who, when his father dieth, guardeth not

His mother.’ Heeding this,” the Raja said,

Haste thee to choose, and so choose that I bear

No guilt, dear child, before the all-seeing Gods.”

Thus spake he - from the royal presence then

Elders and ministers dismissing. She,

Sweet Sâvitrî, -low lying at his feet,

With soft shame heard her father, and obeyed.

Then, on a bright car mounting, companied

By ministers and sages, Sâvitrî

Journeyed through groves and pleasant woodland-towns

Where pious princes dwelled, in every spot

Paying meet homage at the Brahmans’ feet;

And so from forest unto forest passed,

In all the Tirthas making offerings:

Thus did the Princess visit place by place.

THE King of Mâdra sat among his lords

With Narada beside him, counselling:

When - (son of Bhârat!) entered Sâvitrî

From passing through each haunt and hermitage,

Returning with those sages. At the sight

Of Narad seated by the Raja’s side,

Humbly she touched the earth before their feet

With bended forehead.

Then spake Narada:

“Whence cometh thy fair child? and wherefore, King,

Being so ripe in beauty, giv’st thou not

The Princess to a husband?”

“Even for that

She journeyed,” quoth the Raja; “being come,

Hear for thyself, great Rishi, what high lord

My daughter chooseth.” Then, being bid to speak

Of Narad and the Raja, Sâvitrî

Softly said this: “ In Chalva reigned a prince,

Lordly and just, Dyumutsena named,

Blind, and his only son not come to age;

And this sad king an enemy betrayed

Abusing his infirmity, whereby

Of throne and kingdom was that king bereft;

And with his queen and son, a banished man,

He fled into the wood; and, ‘neath its shades,

A life of holiness cloth daily lead.

This Raja’s son, born in the court, but bred

‘Midst forest peace, - royal of blood, and named

Prince Satyavan, - to him my choice is given.”

“Aho!” cried Narad, “evil is this choice

Which Sâvitrî hath made, who, knowing not,

Doth name the noble Satyavan her lord:

For, noble is the Prince, sprung of a pair

So just and faithful found in word and deed

The Brahmans styled him ‘Truth-born ‘ at his birth.

Horses he loved, and ofttimes would he mould

Coursers of clay, or paint them on the wall;

Therefore ‘Chitraswa’ was he also called.”

Then spake the King: “By this he shall have grown

Being of so fair birth - either a prince

Of valor, or a wise and patient saint.”

Quoth Narad: “Like the sun is Satyavan

For grace and glory; like Vrihaspati

For counsel; like Mahendra’s self for might;

And hath the patience of th’ all-bearing earth.”

“Is he a liberal giver? “ asked the King;

Loveth he virtue? wears he noble airs?

Goeth he like a prince, with sweet proud looks?”

“He is as glad to give, if he hath store,

As Rantideva,” Narada replied.

Pious he is; and true as Shivi was,

The son of Usinara; fair of form

(Yayâti was not fairer); sweet of looks

(The Aswins not more gracious); gallant, kind,

Reverent, self-governed, gentle, equitable,

Modest, and constant. justice lives in him,

And Honor guides. Those who do love a man

Praise him for manhood; they that seek a saint

Laud him for purity, and passions tamed.”

“A prince thou showest us,” the Raja said,

“All virtues owning. Tell me of some faults,

If fault he hath.”

“None lives,” quoth Narada.

But some fault mingles with his qualities

And Satyavan bears that he cannot mend.

The blot which spoils his brightness, the defect

Forbidding yonder Prince, Raja, is this,

‘Tis fated he shall die after a year;

Count from to-day one year, he perisheth!”

“My Sâvitrî,” the King cried; “go, dear child,

Some other husband choose. This hath one fault;

But huge it is, and mars all nobleness:

At the year’s end he dies ‘tis Narad’s word,

Whom the gods teach.”

But Sâvitrî replied:

Once falls a heritage; once a maid yields

Her maidenhood; once doth a father say,

Choose, I abide thy choice.’ These three things done,

Are done forever. Be my Prince to live

A year, or many years; be he so great

As Narada hath said, or less than this;

Once have I chosen him, and choose not twice

My heart resolved, my mouth hath spoken it,

My hand shall execute; -this is my mind!”

Quoth Narad: “Yea, her mind is fixed, O King,

And none will turn her from the path of truth!

Also the virtues of Prince Satyavan

Shall in no other man be found. Give thou

Thy child to him. I gainsay not.”

Therewith

The Raja sighed: “Nay, what must be, must be.

She speaketh sooth: and I will give my child,

For thou our Guru art.”

Narada said:

Free be the gift of thy fair daughter, then;

May happiness yet light! -Raja, I go.”

So went that sage, returning to his place

And the King bade the nuptials be prepared.

HE bade that all things be prepared, - the robes,

The golden cups; and summoned priest and sage,

Brahman and Rity-yaj and Purôhit;

And, on a day named fortunate, set forth

With Sâvitrî. In the mid-wood they found

Dyumutsena’s sylvan court: the King,

Alighting, paced with slow steps to the spot

Where sat the blind lord underneath a sâl,

On mats woven of kusa grass. Then passed

Due salutations; worship, as is meet: -

All courteously the Raja spake his name,

All courteously the blind King gave to him

Earth, and a seat, and water in a jar;

Then asked, “ What, Maharaja, bringeth thee?”

And Aswapati, answering, told him all.

With eyes fixed full upon Prince Satyavan

He spake: “This is my daughter, Sâvitrî

Take her from me to be wife to thy son,

According to the law; thou know’st the law.

Dyumutsena said: “ Forced from our throne,

Wood-dwellers, hermits, keeping state no more,

We follow right, and how would right be done

If this most lovely lady we should house

Here, in our woods, unfitting home for her?

Answered the Raja: “ Grief and joy we know,

And what is real and seeming, - she and I

Nor fits this fear with our unshaken minds.

Deny thou not the prayer of him who bows

In friendliness before thee; put not by

His wish who comes well-minded unto thee;

Thy stateless state shows noble; thou and I

Are of one rank; take then this maid of mine

To be thy daughter, since she chooseth me

Thy Satyavan for son.”

The blind lord spake:

It was of old my wish to grow akin,

Raja, with thee, by marriage of our blood;

But ever have I answered to myself,

‘Nay, for thy realm is lost , - forego this hope

Yet now, so let it be, since so thou wilt;

My welcome guest thou art. Thy will is mine.”

Then gathered in the forest all those priests,

And with due rites the royal houses bound

By nuptial tie. And when the Raja saw

His daughter, as befits a princess, wed,

Home went he, glad. And glad was Satyavan,

Winning that beauteous spouse, with all gifts rich

And she rejoiced to be the wife of him,

So chosen of her soul. But when her sire

Departed, from her neck and arms she stripped

jewels and gold, and o’er her radiant form

Folded the robe of bark and yellow cloth

Which hermits use; and all hearts did she gain

By gentle actions, soft self-government,

Patience, and peace. The Queen had joy of her

For tender services and mindful cares;

The blind King took delight to know her days

So holy, and her wise words so restrained;

And with her lord in sweet converse she lived

Gracious and loving, dutiful and dear.

But while in the deep forest softly flowed

This quiet life of love and holiness,

The swift moons sped - and always in the heart

Of Sâvitrî, by day and night, there dwelt

The words of Narada, - those dreadful words!

Now, when the pleasant days were passed, which brought

The day of Doom, and Satyavan must die

(For hour by hour the Princess counted them,

Keeping the words of Narada in heart),

Bethinking on the fourth noon he should die,

She set herself to make the “ Threefold Fast,”

Three days and nights foregoing food and sleep;

Which, when the King Dyumutsena heard,

Sorrowful he arose, and spake her thus:

“Daughter, a heavy task thou takest on

Hardly the saintliest soul might such abide.”

But Sâvitrî gave answer: “Have no heed:

What I do set myself I will perform;

The vow is made, and I shall keep the vow.”

“If it be made,” quoth he, “ it must be kept;

We cannot bid thee break thy word, once given.”

With that the King forbade not, and she sat

Still, as though carved of wood, three days and nights.

But when the third night passed, and brought the day

Whereon her lord must die, she rose betimes,

Made offering on the altar flames, and sang

Softly the morning prayers; then, with clasped palms

Laid on her bosom, meekly came to greet

The King and Queen, and lowlily salute

“The gray-haired Brahmans. Thereupon those saints -

Resident in the woods - made answer mild

Unto the Princess: “ Be it well with thee,

And with thy lord, for these good deeds of thine.”

“May it be well! “ she answered; in her heart

Full mournfully that hour of fate awaiting

Foretold of Narad.

Then they said to her:

Daughter, thy vow is kept. Come, now, and eat.”

But Sâvitrî replied: “ When the sun sinks

This evening, 1 will eat, - that is my vow.”

So when they could not change her, afterward

Came Satyavan, the Prince, bound for the woods,

An axe upon his shoulder; unto whom

Wistfully spake the Princess: “Dearest Lord,

Go not alone to-day; let me come too

I cannot be apart from thee to-day.”

“Why not ‘to-day’?” quoth Satynvm. “The wood

Is strange to thee, Belovèd, and its paths

Rough for thy tender feet; besides, with fast

Thy soft limbs faint; how wilt thou walk with me?”

I am not weak nor weary,” she replied,

And I can walk. Say me not nay, sweet Lord,

I have so great a heart to go with thee.”

“If thou hast such good heart,” answered the Prince,

I shall say yea; but first entreat the leave

Of those we reverence, lest a wrong be done.”

So, pure and dutiful, she sought that place’

Where sat the King and Queen, and, bending low,

Murmured request: “My husband goeth straight

To the great forest, gathering fruits and flowers;

I pray your leave that I may be with him.

To make the Agnihôtra sacrifice

Fetcheth he those, and will not be gainsaid,

But surely goeth. Let me go. A year

Hath rolled since I did fare from th’ hermitage

To see our groves in bloom. I have much will

To see them now.”

The old King gently said:

In sooth it is a year since she was given

To be our son’s wife, and I mind me not

Of any boon the loving heart hath asked,

Nor any one untimely word she spake;

Let it be as she prayeth. Go, my child;

Have care of Satyavan, and take thy way.”

So, being permitted of them both, she went, -

That beauteous lady, - at her husband’s side,

With aching heart, albeit her face was bright.

Flower-laden trees her large eyes lighted on,

Green glades where pea-fowl sported, crystal streams,

And soaring hills whose green sides burned with bloom,

Which oft the Prince would bid her gaze upon;

But she as oft turned those great eyes from them

To look on him, her husband, who must die,

(For always in her mind were Narad’s words).

And so she walked behind him, guarding him,

Bethinking at what hour her lord must die,

Her true heart torn in twain, one half to him

Close-cleaving, one half watching if Death come.

THEN, having reached where woodland fruits did grow,

They gathered those, and filled a basket full;

And afterwards the Prince plied hard his axe,

Cutting the sacred fuel. Presently

There crept a pang upon him; a fierce throe

Burned through his brows, and, all a-sweat, he came

Feebly to Sâvitrî, and moaned: “O wife,

I am thus suddenly too weak for work;

My veins throb, Sâvitrî; my blood runs fire;

It is as if a threefold fork were plunged

Into my brain. Let me lie down, fair Love!

Indeed, I cannot stand upon my feet.”

Thereon that noble lady, hastening near,

Stayed him, that would have fallen, with quick arms;

And, sitting on the earth, laid her lord’s head

Tenderly in her lap. So bent she, mute,

Fanning his face, and thinking ‘twas the day

The hour - which Narad named - the sure fixed date

Of dreadful end - when, lo! before her rose

A shade majestic. Red his garments were,

His body vast and dark; like fiery suns

The eyes which burned beneath his forehead-cloth

Armed was he with a noose, awful of mien.

This Form tremendous stood by Satyavan,

Fixing its gaze upon him. At the sight

The fearful Princess started to her feet.

Heedfully laying on the grass his head,

Up started she, with beating heart, and joined

Her palms for supplication, and spake thus

In accents tremulous: “Thou seem’st some god

Thy mien is more than mortal; make me know

What god thou art, and what thy purpose here.”

And Yama said (the dreadful God of death)

Thou art a faithful wife, O Sâvitrî,

True to thy vows, pious, and dutiful;

Therefore I answer thee. Yama I am!

This Prince, thy lord, lieth at point to die

Him will I straightway bind and bear from life;

This is my office, and for this I come.”

Then Sâvitrî spake sadly: “It is taught,

Thy messengers are sent to fetch the dying;

Why is it, Mightiest, thou art come thyself?

In pity of her love, the Pitiless

Answered, - the King of all the Dead replied:

“This was a Prince unparalleled, thy lord

Virtuous as fair, a sea of goodly gifts,

Not to be summoned by a meaner voice

Than Yama’s own: therefore is Yama come.”

With that the gloomy God fitted his noose,

And forced forth from the Prince the soul of him

Subtile, a thumb in length - which being reft,

Breath stayed, blood stopped, the body’s grace was gone,

And all life’s warmth to stony coldness turned.

Then, binding it, the Silent Presence bore

Satyavan’s soul away toward the South.

But Sâvitrî the Princess followed him;

Being so bold in wifely purity,

So holy by her love: and so upheld,

She followed him.

Presently Yama turned.

“Go back,” quoth he; “pay him the funeral dues.

Enough, O Sâvitrî! is wrought for love;

Go back! too far already hast thou come.”

Then Sâvitrî made answer: “ I must go

Where my lord goes, or where my lord is borne;

Nought other is my duty. Nay, I think,

By reason of my vows, my services

Done to the Gurus, and my faultless love,

Grant but thy grace, I shall unhindered go.

The sages teach that to walk seven steps,

One with another, maketh good men friends;

Beseech thee, let me say a verse to thee:-

Be master of thyself, if thou wilt be

Servant of Duty. Such as thou shalt see

Not self-subduing, do no deeds of good

In youth or age, in household or in wood.

But wise men know that virtue is best bliss,

And all by some one way may reach to this.

It needs not men should pass through orders four

To come to knowledge: doing right is more

Than any learning; therefore sages say

Best and most excellent is Virtue’s way.

Spake Yama then: “Return! yet I am moved

By those soft words; justly their accents fell,

And sweet and reasonable was their sense.

See, now, thou faultless one. Except this life

I bear away, ask any boon from me;

It shall not be denied.”

Sâvitrî said

Let, then, the King, my husband’s father, have

His eyesight back, and be his strength restored,

And let him live anew, strong as the sun.”

“I give this gift,” Yama replied: “thy wish,

Blameless, shall be fulfilled. But now go back;

Already art thou wearied, and our road

Is hard and long. Turn back, lest thou, too, die.”