Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust (11 page)

I was frightened and shouted to Sharmishtha as she overtook me and was swimming away. She did not respond.

She was on the bank before me. She was surrounded by half a dozen friends. With them, she went to the maid and suddenly disappeared behind a tree.

On getting to the bank I walked with my head hung low to the maid, who gave me my clothes. I lost my temper. Those clothes were not mine. She had given to Sharmishtha the beautiful sari presented to me by Kacha, which I had intended to put on. She had put on my beautiful sari, the one I had carefully put away for the spring festivities! I was beside myself with fury and tugged at the sari she was wearing. Sharmishtha was afraid the sari might come off.

Sharmishtha
flared
at me, ‘What do you mean, Devayani? Why are you
annoyed
with me
f
or having lost the race? If one is lame
...
’

I retorted fiercely, ‘Whether I am lame or crippled, we will think of later. You should first remedy your blindness. Whose clothes are you wearing?’

‘My own, of course.’

‘Have you lost your sight? This sari is mine.’

‘No, it is mine. Mother told me last night that she would give me the sari which was presented to her by Indrani on the cessation of war.’

‘You had better return my sari.’

‘I will not. What can you do?’

I tugged at it and said, ‘What am I going to do? Do you know who I am?’

‘Oh, yes. I know very well that your father is dependant on King Vrishaparva!’

I was dumb with fury.

With my silence, she was even more aggressive. She said, ‘You wretch! After all I am a princess and you are only the daughter of a dependant of my father. Never again forget the difference.’

I was trembling with anger. I thought I was going to faint —

Our friends came on the scene. They must have noticed that I was trembling and burst into laughter. The humiliation stung me. I wanted to return to the town, relate everything that had happened to Father and say that I was not prepared to stay in that place a minute longer —

In fact I started running. I heard Sharmishtha calling after me, ‘Devayani, please stop, Devayani stop for a second.’

I did not even look back.

Sharmishtha ran after me. Evidently her friends were also following. In a little while, I slowed down. I realised that she would now catch up on me.

I looked back. She was very near me and it was no use running. I looked around. A little further there was a large open well covered over with shrub and grass. There was no knowing how much water it had! I stood by its mouth. Sharmishtha came near me.

‘Devayani ... I ... I ...’

The tigress in me showed up in place of the gentle deer. ‘Take off the sari! Give it back to me ...’

She was muttering something like, ‘But ... dear.’

I tugged at it the harder screaming, ‘Take it off. Will you not take it off?’

I have no recollection of what happened in the next few moments, of what I or Sharmishtha said or did. What I remember is a sudden shriek, ‘Help, help.’ Was it Sharmishtha’s? Had I pushed her into the well? No — I was shrieking. She had wickedly pushed me into the well. I do not remember how much later it was. I had fallen into the well —

I shouted out aloud, ‘Help ... help me out of the well.’ I shouted once, twice, thrice! I shouted again after a while. Devayani had fallen into a well. Devayani, daughter of Maharishi Shukra had fallen into the well.

I was burning inside but the water was cold and I shivered. On the one hand I was burning for revenge and on the other stark fear had come over me. I could see myself shivering, then dropping in a faint and getting drowned. And I started sobbing like a child.

Someone standing at the mouth of the well was clearing the growth and bent over, asking who it was.

It was a man’s voice. I could not make out whose and asked, ‘Who is it?’

‘Yayati.’

Was I in a trance? I eagerly asked, ‘You mean King Yayati of Hastinapur?’

‘Yes, I am
King
Yayati of Hastinapur. Absorbed in hunting, we came deep into this forest. We were very thirsty and were looking for water. My charioteer has gone another way and I thought I saw a well here and came this way. But let that be. Who may you be fair lady?’

‘Please don’t be so formal.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I shall tell you later. But first would Your Majesty take me out? I am shivering! But ... how will you get in?’

I first heard laughter and then sweet came the words, ‘Yayati has learnt archery in his younger days and some of its tricks too.’

I heard something like a hymn being chanted. This was a feat of archery something like the power of Sanjeevani. I noticed that the arrows had been arranged like a lotus to make a cradle on which I was being lifted up.

The lotus of arrows rose to the mouth of the well and stopped. Apart from Kacha, I had never seen so handsome a man. I blushed under the gaze of the King. I hung my head. My wet clothes clung to my body.

I was still looking down. The King smiled at me and said, ‘May I have the favour of knowing the name of this angel?’

‘I am not an angel.’

‘Is it possible that there is so much beauty on earth?’

My beauty had captivated the King, but I had to load that beauty with a little more. I looked up with a coy glance and looking down again, said, ‘I am Devayani, daughter of Maharishi Shukra.’

‘Maharishi Shukra, the Lord Preceptor of the Demons?’

‘Yes. I would prefer you to be less formal.’

The King smiled and said. ‘If I have been of some service to Maharishi Shukra today all the weariness of the hunt will have vanished from me.’

I put out my right hand. He took it in his right and helped me out. He tried to disengage his hand when I said, ‘No, you can’t. You have taken my hand in marriage.’

He was taken aback. ‘How is it possible? You are a Brahmin and I am a Kshatriya king! Such a marriage ...’

‘There have been many such marriages in the past, Your Majesty. There is the precedent of Lopamudra ...’

‘No, no.’

With a smile I said, ‘Fate apparently wills Your Majesty, that I should be your queen. Why otherwise would you have come to this forest today? It could only happen from something done in our earlier birth.’

‘But fair one ...’

‘There can be no hesitation, Your Majesty. I gave you my heart the moment I saw you. You are free to accept it or refuse me. If you do not make me yours, I shall retire to a cave in the Himalayas and tell the rosary in your name for the rest of my life. A virgin like me, who has never even thought of a man before, would not otherwise hold someone’s hand even for a moment.’

‘But Devayani, your father is revered as a rishi in all the three worlds! If he does not approve of this alliance ...’

‘You need have no care ... Oh, but how foolish of me to forget that you are thirsty.’

‘At the mere sight of you, I have forgotten hunger and thirst. I had set out to capture a comely deer. I myself have been captured by her.’

I smiled and hung my head blushing. I said to myself, ‘Rishis like Father are only fit for penance. Only last night Father was so worried about getting me married. Now, when I bow to him for a blessing not as Devayani but as the Queen of Hastinapur how surprised he will be!’

I wished that wily Kacha had also been here to witness the revenge I have taken. Truly, how pleasing even revenge can be.

The King suggested that we should go to the town in the chariot and apprise Father of all this, but I did not want to go anywhere where Sharmishtha still paraded as a princess.

That was not necessary. Just then a chariot arrived post haste raising a cloud of dust and stopped short of us.

King Vrishaparva and Father got down. Father took me into his arms. I was overcome with pride and joy and closed my eyes. Tears were streaming down Father’s eyes. The great ascetic, Maharishi Shukra was shedding tears of joy.

He suppressed a sob with great difficulty and said. ‘Dev ...’

I said, ‘Father, Devi is no longer yours.’

He was surprised. I glanced bashfully and meaningfully at King Yayati and lowered my eyes.

King Yayati came forward and bowed to Father. With his help I related everything. Father was delighted and gave us a hearty blessing, then turned to King Vrishaparva with the words, ‘Good fortune sometimes comes by way of calamity. King, make arrangements to celebrate her nuptials. Bedeck the whole town. This is a day of great rejoicing for the demon world. Once I have said farewell to her and sent her on the way to her new house, I shall be free to undertake another penance. Fate, which had turned perverse, seems to be changing. Come King Yayati ... Let us go to the town in this chariot. Devi ... you go ahead ...’

I did not move or open my mouth. King Vrishaparva came forward and said, ‘Forget the past ...’

I was up in arms and said, ‘It is easy for the aggressor to forget. But the nasty things which she said about Father ... words which pierced the heart ...’

Father’s tone had hardened, ‘What did Sharmishtha say?’

I said, ‘How can I tell you, Father? She derided me with the words, “I am a princess and you are but the daughter of a dependant”.’

Vrishaparva said with humility, ‘My girl, Sharmishtha also is young like you. She told me just now that you had quarrelled over a sari. The young are immature and lose their balance. One word provokes another ...’

‘Is she not to blame even for pushing me into the well?’

‘Who would say that? But rage is blind. I beg of you to forgive her.’

‘Begging is the creed of dependants like Father ... not of kings like you! If Father wishes to, he can go into the town. But I do not wish even to go where Father and I have been grossly insulted. My father who is famed as an ascetic in the three worlds has been denigrated as a beggar.’

Father had kept silent so long. He joined in, ‘And, King, neither will I! That I should be insulted and an attempt should be made on my daughter’s life ...’

Vrishaparva intervened, ‘Lord Preceptor, Devayani has somehow misunderstood ...’

Father thundered, ‘I am leaving. I have no time to waste on the right and wrong of it.’

Vrishaparva fell at father’s feet. ‘If the Lord Preceptor himself thus turned his back on us, what will be our fate except being annihilated? I shall immediately send for Sharmishtha and direct her to fall in obeisance at your feet and Devayani’s a hundred times and beg for your forgiveness. If you think this too mild, I shall banish her from the kingdom this instant.’

‘She has deeply offended Devayani, I shall return to the town only if she is willing to suffer, without demur, the punishment given by Devayani.’

Vrishaparva turned to me, ‘Devayani, my girl, whatever punishment you pronounce ...’

I intervened with a warning. ‘King, one should not pledge the word one cannot keep. What if I award a punishment which is distasteful and unacceptable to you?’

‘After all, you are a friend of Shama’s. You grew up together as children. You will not be unreasonable in dealing with her. I swear by the feet of the Lord Preceptor that I shall willingly abide by whatever punishment you pronounce ...’

I thoughtlessly said, ‘Sharmishtha must be my maid.’

‘Maid ... ?’ Interjected King Vrishaparva in agony, with a wry expression, suddenly aged.

I had won. I said in a shrill voice. ‘Yes, Sharmishtha must be maid to the Queen of Hastinapur. She must go with me to Hastinapur, to wait on me all her life.’

SHARMISHTHA

T
he hour has struck. One out of the two hours has gone by! In the hour — in that short time — I must make a life’s decision. To be Devayani’s maid or ...

Father’s note is lying there. His first and only letter to his dear daughter! His Shama had so far never gone away from him! Where, then, was the occasion to write a letter? It is here today — an unpredictable occurrence, an enemy from an earlier life come for revenge.

Today — on the first day of the spring festivities — the sun rose as on everyday in my childhood, sprinkling his red glow through the window all over me. All of a sudden I blushed. The reddish dawn seemed like the sacrificial fire at a wedding. Then I remembered Mother’s words while sending me to bed. Caressing me she had said, ‘Shama, it is very well that the war has ceased. Now we can look for one of the good kings ... I believe the King of Hastinapur is very brave and good. While yet a youth he went out with the victory horse to conquer the world. They say he is very handsome too. He would be just the right man for this delicate flower of mine.’ It is true that on hearing this I feigned to be angry and pulled the coverlet over my face. But the whole night I did float on sweet dreams. One of those dreams had taken me to Hastinapur where I had been made the Queen of King Yayati!

Even when I woke up at dawn, the sweet dreams were still with me.
But how terrible life is. How full of contradictions! How bitter in contrast to a dream
!
Before the morning sun has turned westward, fate has called me to Hastinapur! Not as queen but as the queen’s maid.

* * *

During spring festivities in the morning, I said many things to hurt Devayani which I should not have done. But how could I help it? I had lost control over myself, my tongue and in fact everything. Was it my fault that she was born to a sage and not a king? But time and again, at every step she has obstinately striven to establish that I am no match for her.

We may have been three or four years old. The nurses had taken us out boating. Devayani bent over the side and clapped with joy, saying, ‘Shama, see this pretty girl calling me to play with her.’ I bent over the side and saw another girl resembling me, also calling me with a smile. I said, ‘Look a pretty girl is calling me also!’ She sniffed and squealed, ‘No. Your girl is ugly, mine is pretty.’

We were eight or ten years when in one of the plays at the spring festivities, the school teacher gave us both a part. She was to be the queen of flowers and I the forest queen. Devayani was pretty and good at dancing; so she was chosen to be the queen of flowers. She had been given three dances; first portraying the bud, then the half blown flower and then the flower in full bloom. The forest queen had no dance. But because the queen of flowers was lower in rank than the forest queen, Devayani insisted on being the forest queen. I had no aptitude for dancing and had to dance. By her obstinacy the show was ruined.

We grew to fifteen or sixteen years. In that year’s festivities, there were many competitions organised for the teenagers of the well-to-do. Competitions to cover dance, song and drama. Devayani stood first in all — dance, song, beauty ... But my poem was rated better than hers.

‘I am the daughter of Maharishi Shukra who is a renowned poet in the three worlds and my poem must be the best,’ she argued. ‘It
is because Sharmishtha is a princess that the judges have unjustly rated her poem higher.’ The judges had to divide the prize between us. That time my only first prize was in sketching. And that because Devayani just could not draw.

Her father had secured the power of Sanjeevani. The demons were to score a victory over the gods from that power. Father accordingly aimed at not offending Devayani and I had to follow suit.

Many instances of her vanity lingered deep in my mind. That morning when she tried to snatch the sari which I was wearing, it all exploded. How can I explain it?

Some nasty offensive words escaped from my mouth. But they are about to ruin my whole life. For that one mistake, a princess is to be reduced to be a maid.

Sharmishtha — a maid? I, to be maid to that heartless stone image in love with herself? No, that cannot be!

No, I was not merely guilty of offending words. Mother has told me that the sari is Devayani’s. That Kacha had presented it to her. I should not have worn it. Why did Mother not show me the clothes properly last night? How was I to know that the sari was not mine? No, it was altogether a mistake that I was born a princess. It is because of that, that I have grown to depend on the maids for everything. To what end? Devayani’s insistence that Sharmishtha must be her maid all her life.

She maintains I pushed her into the well. I ran after her to hold her back. She was there already. In the scuffle, she lost her balance and fell in. I still think so.

There are only two witnesses in this world to good and bad, to truth and falsehood and to right and wrong, Kacha used to say. One is conscience and the other is omniscient God.

If I thought He might come, I would have asked God for an answer to the terrible dilemma before me. Devayani has imposed slavery on me for life. Shall I or shall I not accept it?

Father’s letter says:

My dear daughter, if you ask me as your father whether you should agree to be a maid, I shall never consent.

But man has several roles to play at the same time. We have been utterly defeated with Kacha’s acquisition of Sanjeevani.

It is in such adverse circumstances that the demons must again rise. The patronage of Maharishi Shukra is vital to us. He has unbounded love for Devayani. If the conditions set by her are not met, he will never again set foot in our town and in his absence, our kingdom will be razed to the ground. We who aspire to conquer the inter-stellar space will be reduced to crawling on earth.

Shama, I shall not be angry if you refuse. I could not make up my mind what to do. That is why I wrote this letter.

Shama. My beloved Shama! May Lord Shiva guide you to choose what will ever after make you happy.

From childhood at weddings I had often heard the words, ‘The moment has come.’ Recently I had come to realise its significance. Those sweet words, indicating that the auspicious moment binding two hearts together was imminent, those words thrilled me to the core.

But at that moment, they seemed to be terribly ominous to me. I did not wish to hear them. I kept feeling that the moment should never come. Because when that moment arrives, Mother will come in and stand before me with tears in her eyes. I shall have to give a firm answer to Father.

Oh God! What shall I say? Shall I gladly accept being a maid? How is it possible? Be a stranger to everything including love, affection, the company of a mate, the joy of motherhood?

No, I shall tell Father that rather than be a maid to Devayani, I shall turn a mendicant! If she wishes to avenge herself, send for her and in her presence, behead me yourself. But remember, please, even the lifeless head must not fall at her feet. I shall not on my life accept being a maid. Not even in a dream. Shall I consent to be Devayani’s maid?

I was deep in thought. Think, think, think. My head was ready to split.

And all because of what? I had by mistake worn this sari. This sari which was Kacha’s present to Devayani. This sari — I swear by my father — I only wore it by mistake.

Does destiny have a hand in this abnormal occurrence? Kacha came here for Sanjeevani. He was our enemy. But at heart I worshipped him for his learning, his devotion and sacrifice and his manner. I often wished I had him for my elder brother.

Devayani never let me talk to him freely or be natural with him. She was jealous. But even his presence cheered me up. I was happy with even a smile from him. I recalled for days together an occasional word uttered by him.

The demons mercilessly tortured him to death three times. But everytime he said, ‘Some things, which are terrifying from a distance, are not in fact quite so frightful. Death is the same. Princess, these are words drawn from my experience.’ And with that he would smile genially.

What do those words mean? Could Kacha foresee the future? Being a maid; what else is it but death? The death of one’s individuality.

And do individual qualities and defects hang by a caste? Both Kacha and Devayani are Brahmins. But does she share even one of his qualities? No. In life nothing whatever follows birth or caste.

For a Brahmin, what great courage did Kacha show in coming to our kingdom for Sanjeevani. He put all Kshatriyas to shame. He stayed his ground fearlessly until he had acquired Sanjeevani.

This sari — it is an unwitting gift from Kacha to me! I must keep it all my life. I remembered him only because of the difficulty before me —

Who has escaped danger and difficulty? On the contrary, difficulties are more to the lot of the good ones on earth. Kacha was so good, so selfless, so affectionate and so learned. Even so, did he have any less of misery? The pain of shattered love and the curse of the beloved. But there was not a flicker of unhappiness on his face.

I said, ‘I would have been happy to bid you goodbye if you were returning to heaven with your bride. But ...’

He calmly replied, ‘Princess, life is ever incomplete, all its beauty lies in its being so.’

This is a good philosophy. But I had read in the epics how enormous is the pain of shattered love. I had cried profusely reading of it. I said, ‘Would it not have been better if one did not fall in love in the first instance?’

He said, ‘No. Love bestows the quality of being able to look beyond oneself. When it is altruistic, dispassionate and humble it becomes the first step to progress.’

That day Kacha was in a hurry to go away but he nonetheless came to see me and said, ‘Sharmishtha, do not be distressed that our love has come to nought. Even if I have failed in love, I experienced love. That memory will ever be with me. Your friend Devayani is short tempered and an egoist. I am conscious of these faults! True love has the power to accept the beloved despite the faults. Such was my love for Devayani. But I had to disappoint her for the good of my fellow beings.

‘What could I do? Love is a lofty sentiment in life but duty is even higher. Duty is very exacting but it is the basis of all religion. If Devayani ever opens her heart to you, tell her only this, “Kacha’s heart is wedded to duty. But a corner of that heart is forever hers.” ’

I failed to see how for so long I had overlooked that last meeting of Kacha and his words. I was groping in the dark. I could not see a ray of light, but Kacha had shown it. I ran to the door as the hour tolled. Mother opened the door as I was about to. I ran into her arms, smiled and said, ‘Tell Father to make arrangements for my going to Hastinapur. Sharmishtha is ready to be Devayani’s maid.’

* * *

I was a little shaken while entering the palace at Hastinapur, I will not deny it. But I soon recovered and took my place as a maid.

Devayani called on the Queen Mother and I followed her. The Queen Mother said, ‘Devayani, my daughter, your friend is as pretty as you are.’

Devayani was arrogant. ‘Mother, she is Princess Sharmishtha. But I did not bring her as my companion. She is no longer a princess. She is a maid ... my maid.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘His Majesty will tell you what a great sage my father is ...’

‘Your father-in-law King Nahusha was also a great warrior. That a Kshatriya princess should be a maid in this his palace is not what I consider proper.’

‘That is for me to decide!’ retorted Devayani and she walked out. I had been the cause of this first clash between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. But clashes would continue.

Devayani had been a spoilt child. The Queen Mother also was perhaps cast in the same mould. It was like two streaks of lightning crashing in the sky. Fate had similarly brought these two together.

The clashes sometimes brought me unexpected happiness! Occasionally I was reminded of my mother’s loving hand. The memory made me very uneasy. But after a clash between the two, the Queen Mother would draw me near her, maybe to taunt Devayani or because I was a Kshatriya princess and pat me on the back. That relieved the agonising memory of Mother. It may have been only a show but even such illusions help make life bearable.

Once the Queen Mother’s love showed up in a strange way. A renowned palmist had come to the town. Devayani sent for him and showed him her hand. He predicted that a son would be born to her in a year’s time. We were all happy. I happened to be there. The Queen Mother took my hand, made me sit down and asked him to read my hand. Devayani scowled at this! But I was helpless before the Queen Mother.

He looked at my hand for a long time and said, ‘This girl is unfortunate.’

Devayani said, ‘
Panditji,
she is only a maid, not a princess!’

He was surprised and looked up. He scanned the hand again and said, ‘She has much to go through but her son ...’ Devayani laughed and pointed out that since I was her maid, who was going to marry me and from where would a son come?

The palmist was annoyed that his knowledge of the science was being scoffed at. He turned to Devayani, ‘Forgive me, Your Majesty. I know my science. I know nothing else. I am telling you of what I can read in this palm! Her son will be heir to a throne.’

Devayani was grave when she said, ‘By throne do you mean the skin of a dead lion? Will you look at her hand again?’

My heart bled with the taunt! I quickly withdrew my hand and rushed out of the room lest tears should come to my eyes.