Sanyasta Khadga
Act I
Scene 1
(The temple of the Goddess in the hermitage. Dancing girls sing a song.)
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Kitī tari sulalit sahaj-gīti
Rāga: Yaman | Tāla: Ektāl | Chāl: Hālā, Madhumatī Vilasit
Original:
किती तरि सुललित सहज- गीति- । तार न बहु ताणी ।। ध्रु. ।।
ताणिशि तनु-बीन तुटे शिथिल तरी गीति नुठे, अति ते करित हानी ॥ १ ॥
Translation:
How graceful and easy the melody – yet strain not the string too much, (Chorus)
Shouldst thou strain the lute-string of the body, it snaps; should it be slack, the melody rises not, causing great harm.
(As the girls depart singing, Siddhartha Gautama and Kaunḍinya enter.)
Siddhartha: Kaunḍinya, that was the song! Didst thou hear it? This song which these dancers sang just now, I heard it once before. And thou wouldst be astonished, but this song of the dancers kindled a divine light in my heart, like unto a mystic mantra. And in that light, I could trace the path to nirvāṇa (liberation) through the deep darkness of this hermitage and reach the foot of the Bodhivṛkṣa (Bodhi Tree). It is well-known that we were engaged in severe self-mortification on the banks of the Nirañjanā river, to witness firsthand what truth lay in the path of tapas (asceticism), which declares that liberation is attained by torturing, tormenting, and destroying one's body and senses, offering them as a sacrifice. Kaunḍinya, is there any means to free this entire world from the four great sorrows: birth, death, old age, and sickness? With such a yearning, I vowed that—
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Vimukta karu he
Tāla: Tritāl | Chāl: Pītanake
Original:
विमुक्त करु हे । आर्त जगत । पासुनि जन्ममरणा ।। ध्रु. ।।
साधन शोधाया । राज्य स्वजन अरे प्राणही । सोडीन लोक शोक हरणा ।। १ ।।
Translation:
This sorrowing world shall we free / From birth and death's decree. (Chorus)
To seek the means / My kingdom, kin, yea, even life / Will I forsake, to end human grief.
Siddhartha: ...With such a resolute determination, I renounced this sorrowful worldly existence, abandoning my Śākya kingdom, my young wife Goddess Yaśodharā, my newborn son Rāhul – all my possessions – and came to dwell in this forest. Then, I observed many vows of fasting and austerity, even to eating but a single grain a day. Yet, enlightenment eluded me. Finally, I lay day and night, nigh unto death. But this only destroyed what little power of thought I had; how then could greater knowledge be attained? Just then, one day, the dancing girls passed by, singing this very song: ‘Do not loosen the string of the vīṇā (lute) too much; else no melody shall rise. Nor stretch it too taut, lest the vīṇā itself break.’ The same condition applies to the senses, this lute of the body. If these senses are excessively indulged, thou shalt miss the music of peace; if thou torturest them too much, thou shalt also forfeit the music of peace. But if thou nurturest these horses of the senses appropriately, yet holdest their reins like an expert charioteer, and makest use of them, then that state of equipoise shall render thy journey on the path of knowledge pleasant, and ultimately grant thee nirvāṇa. This principle convinced me, and I abandoned that self-mortification. I partook of food and, maintaining a balanced diet and conduct, was able to experience the supreme bliss of nirvāṇa through the path of contemplative knowledge under the shade of that Bodhivṛkṣa. Kaunḍinya, is the principle concerning the sacrificial path of violence likewise true for this path of self-mortifying tapas? Tell me, pray! What is the principle of the Tathāgata (one who has thus come/gone) Buddha regarding the sacrificial path of violence?
Kaunḍinya: O Bhagavan Buddha-deva, I have fully grasped thy principle regarding violent sacrifices. Plavā hyete adṛḍhāḥ yajñarūpāḥ (These forms of sacrifice are unstable boats). Gather heaps of cow dung and firewood, make a huge bonfire of it, and then, with solemn mantras, slice and dice the throats, hearts, fat, and sinews of innocent, frolicking lambs and calves, their legs bound, as one would cut vegetables; and then, with streams of blood, burn their various pieces of flesh in the fire, saying, ‘This is for Indra, this for the Maruts, this for Varuṇa!’ If deities are appeased by such bloody sacrifices, why should they not be appeased by a slaughterhouse? This is not ritual; this is butchery, and if gods are truly pleased by it, then they must be demons, not gods! They say that by slaying lambs and calves, man attains liberation! What madness is this! Moreover, even in the heaven attained by sacrifice, the tales of the gods themselves tell us that they too are not free from envy, wrath, fear, sorrow, and discontent. But, O Bhagavan, did those who devised the notion that liberation is attained and ancestral spirits are appeased by animal sacrifice, invent it solely to deceive the world?
Siddhartha: Nay. I do not say that they intentionally deceived the world. It was an honest error on their part. It was but a step in humanity's commendable efforts to discover the eternal and immortal fundamental principle of the world and to find a means to freedom from all suffering. It was an intellectual delusion. But once that illusion is dispelled by experience and reflection, what wise man would cling to it still? By self-mortifying tapas, one might, at best, learn what transformations the human organs and powers can undergo through various experiments; but they bear no direct relation to freedom from all suffering and the attainment of the soul's eternal peace. Violent sacrifice or self-mortifying tapas is not the path to nirvāṇa. The path to nirvāṇa means the destruction of craving, and the means are simply these, according to one's conviction:
A kuśalasyākaraṇe kuśalasyopasaṁpadā |
Sacittapariyādapana etad Buddhānuśāsanam ||
(To cease from evil, to cultivate good, to purify one's mind — this is the teaching of the Buddhas.)
Kaunḍinya: In this hermitage, wert thou not to show me the wondrous forms of self-mortification?
Siddhartha: Come, enter within! (The curtain opens.) Siddhartha: Behold these types of self-mortification for every occasion, from the hairs of the head to the nails of the feet! See these Keśī (Hair-keepers). They consider it a sin to remove even a single hair. See their hairy bodies, as if draped in an old mat, with hair from the head reaching their backs and faces, from the nose to their moustaches, from their moustaches to their beards, and from their beards to their stomachs, and from their armpits to their ribs!
Kaunḍinya: But who is this, angrily tearing out his matted locks? Has some grievous news reached him, perhaps?
Siddhartha: Nay. He is an adherent of the Keśaluñcaka (Hair-pluckers) sect, quite opposite to the Keśī sect. They consider it a sin to leave even a single hair on the body. Moreover, since hair removed by a kṣurikā (knife) would not constitute true self-mortification, they first grow their hair long, then tear it out hair by hair with handfuls, plucking each one out.
Kaunḍinya: Who are these, raising their hands as if calling someone?
Siddhartha: That later. First, behold these, who deem it meritorious to keep their arms hanging down their whole lives, just as they were born. They never raise their arms. As a result, their bones wither, and their arms cannot move forward, backward, or upward. Opposite to them, behold these true ascetics. Their belief is that true tapas means continually holding their arms aloft against nature. By keeping both arms constantly raised, they have shrivelled like wood. How can one say which of these mutually opposing paths truly yields merit?
Kaunḍinya: But who are these, licking the ground?
Siddhartha: These are performing the Mṛgavrata (Deer-vow). They walk always on all fours, like animals. They sleep and sit like them and subsist on grass and leaves from the ground. Behold these Agatika (Motionless ones). They sit perpetually in one place. In the rain, mud accumulates around them, forming anthills, in which snakes take residence. They survive if someone puts food in their mouths; sometimes snakes show them affection, sometimes they bite and kill them. Behold these Satata Gatika (Constantly Moving ones), quite opposite to the Agatika. They are constantly in motion. If they stay in one place, they will spin around and around; but they will not cease movement. They become accustomed to sleeping while walking forward, or walking even in sleep. Ascetics observing completely opposing rules consider their respective rules with equal stubbornness to be meritorious and leading to liberation. Now, if the vow of motion is meritorious, then the vow of motionlessness must be sinful; and if motionlessness is meritorious, then constant motion is sinful! One of them is certainly mistaken, and most likely, both are mistaken; the joyful thing is only that these greatly restrained ascetics perform their chosen observances side by side, without opposing seekers of an entirely opposite conviction. Kaunḍinya, how many kinds of vows shall I tell thee? Fifty types merely concerning food. Some, to conquer the sense of taste, squeeze extremely bitter juices into every food they eat; some are Nirāśana (Fasters), eating nothing at all; while others are Sarvāśana (Omnivorous). They consider it meritorious to eat whatever appears before them when hungry, even if it be excrement, which they devour with equanimity. Some constantly sit amidst five fires, while others remain perpetually in cold water. See this one, renowned as the most prominent among these self-mortifying ascetics. He has driven sharp nails into the bottom of his sandals and plunges his feet onto their points as he walks. He purifies his eyes by igniting a fumigation of chillies and suspending himself. He burned his genitals on a heated griddle; and now, finding these pains of self-mortification insufficient, that extremely austere ascetic is eating thorns and will perpetually lie upon a bed bristling with spikes.
Kaunḍinya: Enough, Kaunḍinya! Enough! O Bodhisattva Siddhartha, I have no need whatsoever for further information about these dreadful sects!
Siddhartha: They say that if a man commits sin in this world, he must suffer such dreadful punishments in hell. But these innocent people, mistaking the infernal stone of sin for merit, voluntarily endure those torments here on earth. And they consider suffering such hellish agonies to be an easy path to heaven, to freedom, to liberation. Behold, this is mere intellectual delusion! Kaunḍinya, did thy mother love thee? Was she compassionate?
Kaunḍinya: Sire, she was most affectionate. A mother, indeed! How can I describe her love?
Siddhartha: Then would she rejoice if thou wert hungry, ate grass, or burned thy hand in the hearth; or would her wish be that thou shouldst eat thy fill, be robust and content?
Kaunḍinya: Assuredly, that I should be well-fed, joyful, and healthy –
Siddhartha: Well, Kaunḍinya, these folk consider God to be compassionate and the parent of His subjects, do they not? Is it then possible that such a compassionate parent would be pleased by starving His devotee to emaciation or burning him on a heated griddle? A god who is more pleased the more a living being is tormented must be a demon, not a god, must he not? Perform these acts for wondrous siddhis (supernatural powers); but to observe these dreadful vows and fasts, believing that a compassionate God is pleased by self-mortification or sacrificial violence and that liberation is thereby attained, is sheer folly. To me, who set forth to alleviate the world's suffering, to forcibly plunge the world into the suffering of these dreadful vows seems but cruelty.
A Disciple: (entering) — The Saṅgha (community of monks) is prepared to depart, according to the command of the Tathāgata Buddha to journey to Kapilavastu, his birthplace.
Siddhartha: Very well. Kaunḍinya, come, our aged father, King Śuddhodana, has wasted away and become utterly frail since we left the kingdom without his knowledge and went to the forest. Yielding to his summons to visit him at least once before his imminent demise, we have resolved to visit our birthplace, the capital of the Śākya nation. Moreover, there is a possibility that this personal opportunity may serve a greater global purpose. We shall strive to the utmost to crown with success our ardent desire to eliminate warfare, violence, strife, and discord from this world, and to establish everywhere a righteous kingdom of dharma (righteous duty), by imparting the teaching of the Four Noble Truths we discovered to the Śākya nation, just as the Kings of Kosala and Magadha became followers of the Tathāgata Buddha, and by making the royal family and military commanders of the Śākya nation our adherents. Kaunḍinya, if all mankind comprehends that there is no suffering like worldly existence, then why would wars and conflicts arise for the illusory gains of this exceedingly painful world? Just as no wise man contends to be bitten by a venomous serpent, so no living creature will contend to leap into the pyre of this worldly existence. Kaunḍinya, truly, there is no suffering like worldly craving. There is no happiness like dispassionate renunciation. Behold—look at that distant mountain, see how the forest fire blazes!
Song:
Song Details:
Title: To vaṇavā bagh dūrī
Chāl: Tū Ānabān Velī
Original:
तो वणवा बघ दूरी । जीव जंतु जाळी । भडकत दशदिशा । आग ।। ध्रु. ।।
पेटत पळ पळ तैसा । तृष्णाग्नीत । संसार जळत हाय ॥ १ ॥
Translation:
Behold that distant forest fire / It burns all creatures, / The flames rage in all directions. (Chorus)
Like that, moment by moment, / This worldly existence burns / In the fire of craving, alas!
[End of Scene 1]
Scene 2
Kshara is seated. Just then, Shankambhat enters.
Shankambhat: Kshara, again you have come onto the osari (verandah) and seated yourself with such abandon! All and sundry will come onto the osari; the osari is a public market place, and there you sit. Now, if I were to combine these two words and call you by that name, you would claim I abuse you! The proper place for women to sit is the saipakghar (kitchen).
Kshara: Silence, you chagalkutle (babbler)! If I am not to sit upon the osari, then what shall I do? You say women's place is in the saipakghar, but what accursed difference is there between a saipakghar and an osari when not a single grain of food have you ever procured to cook in that very saipakghar! If you, like other industrious men, were to make the rupees clink and jingle upon the osari, then I too would be busied with domestic chores in the saipakghar like other settled women. But what accursed stone has God bound about my neck! My life has been squandered. Else, I would have graced the throne as queen to some king.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Joda Mam Kiti Vijod
Chāl: Ari Rang Range Gyan
Original: जोडा मम किती विजोड । हे ठब्बु मी छान । मी गाय । हे गिधाड । हे बदसुर । मी तान ।। ध्रु. ।। गूळचि मी चव ज्याला । त्याचि न हे तेचि जाण । मज पूर्ण मज समचि । पति दे न भगवान् ।। १ ।।
Translation: How mismatched is my pair! He, a dullard; I, comely. I, a song; he, a vulture. He, off-key; I, the melody. (Chorus) I am the jaggery that has taste, But its flavour, he perceives not. To me, one wholly like myself, A husband, God does not grant.
Shankambhat: What is it you say, Kshara! Are you in your senses! Do you truly believe you ought to have obtained a husband exactly like you (‘tujasamachi pati’), a perfectly suitable husband? Foolish woman! If that were so, you would weep. If your husband were exactly like you, then though called a man, he would be but a woman! Those who bless maidens with 'may you obtain a suitable groom (‘anurupa varapraptiraastu’)' know not the calamity (anartha) implicit in their words. Nay, there is a slight, inherent mismatch by birth between women and men, and therefore their marital bond is formed. For this reason, give thanks to God that your husband is thus somewhat mismatched with you, not entirely suited to you. Were it otherwise, Kshara, you would be weeping, verily weeping.
Kshara: And now what else have I but my divinely ordained weeping! Great was your father’s laukik (reputation) as a priest. But you have brought it to dust with your extravagance and idleness. The custom (vritti) of rich citizens has vanished, yet these few rustic folk still come to our door; I thought we might earn a few coins by telling them some sankalp bikalp (ritual intentions and such)! Shall I bid them enter then? They have made two rounds already. In such a state, with naught to eat nor to scratch for in the house, it is not seemly to only perform the duties of a priest when a wealthy patron (yajaman) is present.
Shankambhat: What you say is quite right. This is not a question of wealth. This is primarily a question of shraddha (faith). Shraddha does not depend on wealth, but on how much of his wealth one is prepared to donate, to offer as dakshina (honorarium). Many rich folk begrudge even offering a betel nut; whereas many an impoverished soul, even at the cost of his very life, will not fail to give dakshina with cupped hands full. Thus, the measure of a man's religious shraddha is not how much dakshina he can give, but how much dakshina he desires to give—how much he desires to give in cash. Go, measure their shraddha by that scale! Bring in the faithful one who has brought the most dakshina. Drive away the other faithless ones. Kshara, go, tell them this is the command of your husband, Shankambhat.
Kshara: But how can one succeed by focusing solely on dakshina! What if someone has no dakshina—
Shankambhat: Then it should be understood that he lacks shraddha.
Kshara: But are not these ten patrons coming to our door because we are mendicant priests (bhikshuk)? Yet—
Shankambhat: Enough of your 'buts' and 'however's! You say ten patrons come to the door! Women should call but one man their master. I alone am patron enough. Go. Wait! Look, the one who gives the most dakshina must also be ashikshit (unlettered). Just as you dislike a pearl heavier than your nose, so I do not favour a patron more learned than the priest. Go!
Ksharabai exits and brings in an ignorant farmer.
Farmer: I bow at your feet, O divine one.
Shankambhat: Blessings (Kalyan). (To Kshara) You, go inside now. I said go, did I not! I do not approve of women standing thus upon the osari before another man.
Kshara: Here, I go, once and for all!
Shankambhat: (Aside) He appears to be a rustic indeed. (Aloud) Is it a teerthvidhi (pilgrimage ritual) you wish to perform, or a shraddha (ancestral ritual), or a snansankalp (ritualistic bath vow)! Why do you stumble so? These Sanskrit names for rituals, you, a rustic, may not comprehend, so I shall ask you in the common tongue (prakrit). Listen! How many rupees have you brought as dakshina? Forty, or thirty, or twenty?
Farmer: (Aside) Ah, so? I must teach him a little common parlance by seizing this chance. (Aloud) O divine one, I have brought five rupees as dakshina.
Shankambhat: Then in all of Sanskrit literature, there is no religious rite (dharmavidhi) by that name. Ten rupees are the minimum required!
Farmer: Very well, O divine one, I shall manage to give that much somehow.
Shankambhat: Good. That ritual which in prakrit is called 'ten rupees', in Sanskrit it is called a snansankalp. Come, be prepared for the pilgrimage vow (teerthsankalp)!
Farmer: But one must go to a pilgrimage site (teerth), no?
Shankambhat: Foolish fellow. Every priest's house is itself a teerth! If I sprinkle water with sacred grass (darbha), you gain the merit (punya) of an ordinary teerth. If I sprinkle it with my finger, you gain the punya of bathing directly in the Bhagirathi. Come, you recite the vow (sankalp). I shall sprinkle the water. Then you may go to the river and take dips all day, or never bathe again in your entire life. You will assuredly gain the punya of bathing. Come. Sit cross-legged. Take out your dakshina, count it, place it here; join your hands. Whatever word I tell you, pronounce it clearly. When I make hand gestures, you must make them too, mind you! Speak, what is your name? Hmm. Om Namah—
Farmer: Speak, what is your name? Hmm. Om Namah!
Shankambhat: No, no. Say what your name is, then say Om Namah!
Farmer: No, no. Say what your name is, then say Om Namah!
Shankambhat: Your name first; then Om Namah.
Farmer: Your name first; then Om Namah.
Shankambhat: Curse you! Just Om Namah!
Farmer: Curse you! Just Om Namah!
Shankambhat: What a donkey you are!
Farmer: What a donkey you are!
Shankambhat: You paji (rascal)!
Farmer: You paji!
Shankambhat: Your father is a paji.
Farmer: Your father is a paji.
Shankambhat: (Picking up the dakshina) Thief!
Farmer: (Snatching the dakshina) Thief!
Shankambhat: Take that! (He delivers a punch)
Farmer: Take that! (Delivers a return punch)
Finally, they come to blows. The Farmer seizes Shankambhat by the ear, forcing his neck down and bending him.
Shankambhat: Ayayayi! Oh, run to my aid! Oh Mother, oh Mother!
Kshara peeks through the doorway and runs away. Shankambhat: Oh, come back, why do you go! Oh Mother!
Kshara: You are calling out to your Mother, are you not? Then your Mother shall descend from heaven; you said again, you do not like women to come onto the osari.
Shankambhat: Oh, I do like it—Good heavens! Oh! Not Mother, you come! You, Kshara, O Madam Ksharabai, O Madam Ksharabai Maharaj! Come quickly!
Kshara: (Entering) O Farmer-gentleman, release him! Forgive whatever he may have said, for my sake. His tongue is a trifle fatkal (sharp-tongued). Have mercy!
The Farmer releases his ear. Shankambhat rushes headlong into the house. The Farmer bows to Ksharabai and departs.
Shankambhat: (Taking an old sword, peeking cautiously from behind the doorway) Oh, is he gone?
Kshara smiles and nods, indicating 'he's gone', whereupon Shankambhat emerges and speaks loudly. Shankambhat: Is he gone indeed! Where did the coward (bhyad) flee? What shall I do! Had he been here now, I would have torn him to pieces, verily pieces! Why did you release him? I had given my ear into his hand to test you! You believed it true and said before my enemy that I was fatkal of tongue! And now you have bid my enemy flee, granting him life (pranadan). I understand your deceit (kapat). Kshara, did you speak with another man (parpurusha)? A husband is the king of his wife! You have betrayed him (droh)! Therefore, according to the strictures of treason (rajvidroha chya nirbandhanusar), I shall sever your head! You said my tongue is fatkal, no; my sword is more fatkal than my tongue. Speak, why did you intervene? What if that coward were to come here now! Coward, come forth, let me see!—
Farmer: (Re-entering, rebuking) What?
Shankambhat: (Hiding the sword behind his back and discarding it, he retreats behind Kshara and nudges her) I thought he had gone far away! Oh, intervene, intervene, appease him!
Kshara: I shall not appease him! Women should not even stand and speak with another man; to intervene in their affairs is out of the question.
Shankambhat: When commanded by one's husband, there is no harm in standing and speaking with another man, nay, even in intervening. Appease him! Seeing his eyes, whirling like a chakra, Kshara, my head spins and I feel dizzy.
Kshara: Good man, you may go now! Seeing his pitiful state, you should feel amusement rather than anger. Go now, good sir!
The Farmer bows and departs; just then, Baan enters.
Shankambhat: Who? Baan! Was it not your guard upon the ramparts of Prince Siddhartha’s pleasure-palace, he who is now called Buddha? What an unfortunate man, that Siddhartha, this Buddha of today. He preferred to roll in the ashes of a cremation ground rather than upon a bed of flowers with beauties, each more exquisite than Yashodhara!
Baan: He found it agreeable; but his abandoned wife, Devi Yashodhara, is weeping bitterly. Her plight is truly pitiful.
Shankambhat: Oh, hear you not, how wretched is the plight of women when abandoned by their husbands! Therefore, I tell you, cherish me, else—
Kshara: What, else what? Because her husband was a great, valiant prince, Yashodhara was heartbroken when he abandoned her for the forest. But women upon whose neck such a burden (khes) falls, they, on the contrary, feel like making vows, making vows, that their husbands should at least have the sense to go into exile! Yes, if a husband whose companionship is truly joyous accepts exile, then it is sorrow! But as for husbands by whose fault the domestic life of women like me becomes as arduous as exile—why do they not go into exile today, if they are to go tomorrow? Will you go now?
Shankambhat: I would have gone; but as you say, since our domestic life is itself exile, what distinction remains in exile now! There are wild boars in the forest, and (pointing at Kshara) are there none here, pray?
Kshara: (Pointing at Shankambhat) —Indeed there are! Who but a wild boar would perform such an act as you have just done, burying your snout in the mud of slander against a hero of renunciation (tyagaveer) like Siddhartha, this Buddha?
Shankambhat: Tyagaveer! Oh, pray tell! What unprecedented renunciation (apurva tyag) did Siddhartha perform that you now call him a tyagaveer! After indulging in all pleasures from birth until satiation, anyone would grow disgusted. After experiencing the passionate delights of youth, day and night for thirty years, in the cool embraces of numerous moon-faced beauties (chandranana), each more exquisite than Yashodhara, that he should then feel a slight chill and wish to warm himself by a forest fire for a while—what wonder is there in that, and what heroism (veeratva)? Let alone thirty years; but if anyone were to appoint me commander-in-chief of the host of beauties in such a pleasure-palace for at least thirty days, on condition of then departing for exile, I would sign that agreement right now! Let me revel in such a pleasure-palace for thirty days, and as its month's rent, I shall happily walk into the forest on the thirty-first day. But how shall our desire for a home be fulfilled? The lot that has fallen to us is such a character! What wonder then that our unsatiated ghosts of sensual pleasures should still hover around the domestic sphere? And oh, oh, just because Siddhartha, this Buddha, abandoned Yashodhara and left, it is not as if he has abandoned the world entirely! His Highness has merely gone off somewhere for a couple of days to taste piquant, astringent, and sour chutneys, having grown weary of the rich delicacies of royal pleasures. He will certainly return! If he returns as a king, then the royal harem (ranivasa) is here; if he returns as an ascetic (bairagi), then they will make her adopt the garb of an ascetic (bairagini) herself. It is all one and the same. Oh, oh, men cannot but keep women (kamini), these jewels among women (striratne), on their persons, under one pretext or another. Be he a householder, or one living in seclusion in a forest retreat, without women (kaminiwachun), they may last perhaps four days; but on the fifth day, back they come for penance (prayashchitta)! Be they one who chants prayers (japi), one who performs penance (tapi), one with a topknot (shikhi), or a renunciate (sannyasi); some will keep a beloved wife, others a beloved disciple (priya shishya)! Some as a lover (anuragini), others as a female ascetic (bairagini)! Ramachandra was a slave to Janaki's lotus-face, and Hanuman to her lotus-feet—but all told, slaves to women (lalnanche das)! Therefore, do not be in such haste to create such a fuss (stom majavun) about Siddhartha Gautama’s exile and deride us householders. If this Buddha does not return for Yashodhara, today or tomorrow, then my name is not Shankambhat!
Kshara: Silence! You have a habit of slandering any great man you see.
Shankambhat: Silence! You have a habit of calling anyone I slander great.
Kshara: Today, even in the heat of slandering Siddhartha, you have at least acknowledged that men are slaves to women, have you not?
Shankambhat: Yes, to women; but not to such a slave-woman as that!
Baan: Reverend Priest! I have some urgent business (nikadiche kaam). You know that I am a sentinel on the ramparts around the pleasure-palace. The day Siddhartha fled, I am accused of leaving the palace gates open. For years, I have bought time by one means or another, but now time will surely claim me. They say the King will inflict capital punishment (prandand) upon me. No counsel comes to mind.
Kshara: So you came to him to seek counsel, did you?
Baan: No, Madam, do not be angry! How can I seek the wrong thing in the wrong place; but I heard the reputation that the Reverend Priest gives tait (amulet) consecrated with mantras to ward off calamities, so I came.
Shankambhat: An tait for the calamity of capital punishment, eh? At least five tola (tola - a unit of weight) of gold are required?
Baan: B-b-b-b! Will three tolas not suffice?
Shankambhat: My good man, is the body you wish to save made of three great elements? The body is made of five great elements (panchamahabhuta), so five tolas of gold! Come, produce the money—
Baan: I refer you to Seth Sunas.
Shankambhat: Seth Sunas? We are their hereditary priests (pidhijata upadhyaya). Excellent. Well, now you must say that a rumour (gapp) has spread in the village that some wondrous (adbhut) things happened on the night Siddhartha fled; do you know of any such adbhut occurrence?
Baan: Yes, indeed, one adbhut thing did truly happen. That night, before the rampart gates were closed, while I stood guard, I felt like sitting, then like sleeping, and then fell into a deep slumber! But how can I recount this adbhut thing?
Shankambhat: (Laughing) Bravo, Baana, bravo! In short, you dozed off and slept on duty—is that not the adbhut thing? Well, did anything else adbhut occur?
Baan: Nothing else happened!
Shankambhat: It did.
Baan: It did not, Maharaj!
Shankambhat: Baana, do you wish to live or to die?
Baan: To live, Maharaj.
Shankambhat: Then say it happened. An adbhut thing hap-pened.
Baan: It happened. An adbhut thing happened. But which one?
Shankambhat: It is this: that while you were on guard, you closed the gates. You secured the bolts, locks, latches, and hooks with a clatter. But just then, an angel came and passed his hand over your eyes and said, "Be unconscious!" And you all fell unconscious, and upon waking at dawn, found the doors still firmly shut. You remember nothing of what transpired in between; you must say this by rote! My tait will do the rest.
Baan: But—
Shankambhat: Silence. This is precisely what you must say. Oh, you fool, to ward off the public scandal (lokapavad) of these naive, faithful folk, the shield of divine miracle proves useful. The maiden Kunti (upavar Kunti) bore a child before marriage. Public scandal arose! In reality, there was no exception in it. It is merely a natural law. But when it was seen that lokapavad concerning the illegitimate son (kanin putra) was inevitable, Vyasa cleverly threw in the tale of the divine miracle of the Sun-mantra, and the foolish doubts were satisfied by a cunning answer. So too shall it be today. Not only this, but if in time Siddhartha Gautama truly becomes a great founder of a religion, then even in the new Puranas of his followers, this fanciful tale (bhakad katha) I have suggested will attain great glory as a religious story (dharmakatha). Though my name may not shine in that Purana like Vyasa's, who is to say it will not float upon the narrative stream and land upon the shores of future generations! Well, come inside, I will give you the tait.
They exit.
Scene 3
(King Shuddhodan stands.)
Senapati Vikramsingh: All hail King Shuddhodan!
Shuddhodan: Welcome! Senapati Vikramsingh, welcome! Is the news brought by yesterday's merchants indeed true? Has it been confirmed that my son Siddhartha, who left me long ago, is returning to meet me, having attained the honour of a Jagadguru (world teacher)?
Vikramsingh: Most certainly! After your son Siddhartha, wearied, renounced the kingdom with the noble aim of liberating the world from all suffering, he undertook an exceedingly severe penance of self-mortification. However, upon realising that the austerities of self-mortification were not the primary means to moksha (liberation), he set forth to attain his goal through the path of knowledge, and eventually achieved the supreme siddhi (accomplishment) of samādhi (meditative absorption). Nevertheless, even whilst enjoying the self-contentment of having attained nirvana (cessation of suffering), he began to wander, instructing the world in the path to nirvana solely for the welfare of mankind. It is his unshakeable conviction that he has discovered the path to free humanity from the clutches of birth, death, old age, and sickness. Thousands of people, kings, and great kings are becoming devotees of Buddha. However, since the principal guiding tenet of Bhagavan Buddha's supremely generous and profoundly compassionate dharma (righteous duty) is ‘pariṇāma-tāpa-saṁskārād guṇavṛtti-virodhāchcha sarvameva duḥkhe vivekinaḥ’, his doctrine holds that this sorrowful world should be renounced as swiftly as possible, and that complete renunciation is only achievable through sanyasa (renunciation). In like manner, their act of imparting sanyasa to thousands of people is, I believe, detrimental to the welfare of mankind, and it was for this very reason that I intended to discuss it with him upon his arrival. Fortunately, the opportune moment for that direct meeting has arrived today. Bhagavan Buddha, having set forth to revisit his capital, Kapilavastu, is now close to the city.
Shuddhodan: Ah, today my son Siddhartha shall meet me after a separation of nine or ten years! In my old age, he is my sole staff and support. Upon his arrival, I shall bestow upon him the royal consecration of this crown, and I shall embrace the sanyasa-diksha (initiation into renunciation) myself. Is the capital splendidly adorned? Upon his arrival, there shall be dances, cymbals, trumpets, horns, drums— Hark! A chaughada (a set of four musical instruments used in processions) sounds, but why has it ceased? How will my son appear? How will he conduct himself? Every moment seems an aeon to me!
(A messenger enters.)
Vikramsingh: Why has the chaughada sounded but once, then ceased? Has Siddhartha been sighted from the city's perimeter?
Messenger: Sighted, you ask? Your Majesty, he has already entered the city!
Shuddhodan: Then why have not the ten directions yet resounded with welcoming instruments and acclamations for my son? What a grave error!
Messenger: Forgive me, Your Majesty! But the chaughada at the perimeter gate, which was to give the first signal, was silenced by Siddhartha himself as soon as the first beat fell, thus confusing the people at the city gates. Each time the chaughadas attempted to resume, Siddhartha had them silenced again. Meanwhile, leaving the main gateway, Prince Siddhartha entered the city by a side path; avoiding the designated and adorned route for his procession, he deliberately proceeded through the squalid, narrow, and outcast lanes where the humble, poor, and untouchables reside, soliciting and accepting alms. And an immense multitude stands frozen along the main thoroughfare, gazing at the sight with astonishment!
Shuddhodan: What? My son, the heir of King Shuddhodan, the Crown Prince of this Shakya nation, wandering through his own capital, begging for alms at the doors of untouchables? Has this thorn brought disgrace upon my entire lineage? Born into a Kshatriya (warrior class) royal clan, yet begs for alms! He takes food from those whose very shadow is considered Vitāḷ (defilement/pollution)! Oh, messenger, how dared those untouchables offer him alms? How felt they no fear of my wrath?
Messenger: Your Majesty, to Buddhadeva—
Shuddhodan: Who is this Buddha? What Buddha? What sort of Buddha? He is Siddhartha Gautama. Therefore, at least in my presence, he must be called Siddhartha.
Messenger: My apologies! None but Your Majesty alone possesses the power to deter Siddhartha from this contact with the food of untouchables.
Shuddhodan: Chief Minister, bring my horse at once! This impropriety must be halted by me! Though I have grown old, I am still the King of the Shakyas. This rebellious conduct of Siddhartha, which stains the honour and creed of that proud nation and lineage, must be punished by me! Bring the horse, go! Go! And command the people to clear the path. Else, I shall not hesitate to charge my horse headlong through the throng.
Scene 4
(Shākambhatji’s House; Shākambhat is seated, Kṣhārā enters crying loudly.)
Kṣhārā: Heard you, pray? There is no rice, no rice! Ten days have passed; there are not four grains even in the house. That which I brought from my father’s house, you have devoured greedily until now, but they have now steadfastly declared that they will not provide even a morsel (śīta) from tomorrow. Therefore, I say, my lord, ‘No rice, no rice!’ Have you heard me now, at last?
Shākambhat: Good heavens! Then, my dearest, why did you not apprise me yesterday, just as you have now gently informed me? Kṣhārā, this is no jest; in this one day, I shall surely procure a thousand rupees. I, your husband, I shall procure it. Regarding Prince Siddhārtha’s escape, I had given a charm (tāīta) to Bāṇa, for which Sunās Śeṭjī had stood guarantee, but that wretched fellow had not yet paid me a single pai (coin). I have him in a bind now. I shall demand a thousand, a full thousand!
Kṣhārā: You may demand ten thousand, but will he agree to pay when the time comes! Though that Śeṭjī be simple-minded, he is a miser. Furthermore, you owe him a thousand already. He is certain to deduct it from that sum.
Shākambhat: Oh, those bonds I shall surely tear up; but on top of that, I shall take another thousand in cash! Even that merchant (vāṇī), along with the villagers, calls me a mischievous fellow (kuṭāḷ). Very well, if mischievous, then mischievous! I shall make that Śeṭjī beat the cymbals, only then shall I truly earn the name of kuṭāḷ! What is his name again, Sunās Śeṭ—
Kṣhārā: Why? The name Sunās truly suits that Śeṭjī, does it not? His nose is indeed quite sharp, is it not?
Shākambhat: Hmph, oh, I say, this habit of yours to examine whether other men’s noses are sharp or flabby, their eyes bright or rheumy, I shall not tolerate it in the least. You are well past your twenty-fifth year. It is high time to abandon this frivolous (caṭorpaṇā) habit of scrutinising every passing man’s countenance.
Kṣhārā: If such be your wrath, then be calm, my lord. For that Śeṭjī’s sharp nose I had observed furtively when I was but twenty years of age, not twenty-five, you see. Then there is no harm, is there? And as for frivolousness, what frivolousness is there in us women looking at men who come and go? Do not we women look at the crows, dogs, and buffaloes in the street—so too do we look at you men. When fifty-six men from various lands gather around a single maiden to perform the respectable thuggery of a svayaṁvara (a ceremony where a maiden chooses her husband), what brawls, what blows, what wrestling—even cats and dogs, accursed creatures, fight their shameless quarrels with more decorum than your Sītā svayaṁvara, and Rukmiṇī svayaṁvara, or our Siddhārtha Buddha’s Yaśodharā svayaṁvara! Have five or fifty women ever gathered and displayed such base fawning before one man? If a man’s nose, prominent like a village fort, is casually seen by a woman’s eyes, it becomes her shamelessness. But your men? The hundred Kauravas even disrobed their own sister-in-law in a full assembly to render her naked—was that the civility of men!-
Song:
Song Details:
Title: While a shameless woman speaks
Chāl: Adakh Bhujtayā Kheliye Original:
निलाजरी स्त्री वदताना । लाज कशी वाटे न नरांना ।। ध्रु. ।।
नग्न करू नरा कधि का लाखो । स्त्रिया
झोंबल्या हासत खो खो । द्रौपदीस नर जैसे नाना ॥ १ Translation:
While a shameless woman speaks aloud,
Why do not men feel any shame?
(Chorus)
Have millions of women ever
Clung laughing to men to make them bare?
As did men of Draupadī, with cruel aim.
Kṣhārā: The spittle that dripped from the mouths of great sages upon merely beholding us women has soaked every single page of your Purāṇas, soaked it through! No sooner did the writers of the Purāṇas espy a woman, than they began to gush in her description—beautiful, with lovely hair (sukeśī), fair-faced (sumukhī), with fine teeth (sudatī), slender-waisted (sumadhyamā), broad-hipped (pṛuthujaṅghanā), lion-waisted (siṁhakaṭī)—as if these wretches had measured every limb and feature of all those women! Siṁhakaṭī and pṛuthujaṅghanā are far-fetched indeed; but should anyone merely call me Rambhorū (having thighs like a plantain tree), I would even take off my sandal and strike them with it!
Shākambhat: You speak well. If any man who beholds you were to call you Rambhorū, Siṁhakaṭī, or some such thing, then I too (pointing at her) shall take out my own sandal! And I shall expose his blindness! Yes, let someone call you Siṁhamukhī (lion-faced) if they will—but what is Siṁhakaṭī? Sudatī, Subhrū (with beautiful eyebrows), Sundarī (beautiful woman), Sukeśā—anyone who dares to affix the prefix ‘su’ to any limb, body part, minor limb, or feature, or combination thereof, of yours, I shall compel him to sigh in regret many a time! As for the rest, if ever the occasion arises to compose a Purāṇa about you, then, by your good fortune, a new sage has indeed emerged who describes things exactly to your liking. You women need no longer fear the perspective of the old Vyāsa who called women sumukhī. This new sage is Prince Siddhārtha Gautama! He has attained Buddhahood, they say? He would not even grant you or any woman the honour of being mentioned as sumukhī, let alone durmukhī (ill-faced). For he does not wish to behold your countenances at all. He reportedly states that to gaze upon a woman’s face is a sin! The Buddha intensely despises this inauspicious female body, with your runny, mucous-filled noses and foul-smelling mouths—he does not even permit you women, born of sin (pāpayoni), to stand in the wind!
Kṣhārā: If any creature were to call women pāpayoni a couple of years before its own birth, then I might perchance call it a virtuous man (puṇyapurūṣa). But he who, having once been born from a woman’s womb, then calls women unclean, with that very sentence bestows upon himself the esteemed title of a worm in the filth. The guru-mahārājās who declare that the female body is inauspicious and that women should not be permitted to stand in the wind—the breeze around their throngs of disciples is surely as fragrant and auspicious as the Malaya breeze, is it not? And the guru’s own body? Then why should others stand in the breeze of these gurus’ bodies! Yet people are meant to drink the holy water (tīrtha) from their feet! When phlegm flows from women’s noses, and when your Vyāsas, Vālmīkis, or some Buddhas catch a cold—and even Gautama Buddha, who set out to dispel the world’s afflictions, reportedly catches colds—does then sacred water flow from their noses like the Gaṅgotrī and Bhāgīrathī? Then why do you not perform ācaman (ritual sipping of water) with their effluvium at your evening prayers? And perhaps you do, madam. For was it not just the other day that some paramahaṁsa (a renunciate of the highest order) arrived, who condemned women as unclean? He reportedly always lay stretched on his bed. Therein he performed his bodily functions, and at the appointed time, he himself ate his own excrement and urine and smeared it on the mouths of his disciples! But that was the guru-mahārājā’s filth; it was prasāda (a blessed offering)! It must have tasted very sweet, no? You too had gone there; did you not partake of a little? Those pigs, accursed creatures, are better than such men. Fie upon it! Oh, but I was forgetting. You told me what the Buddha says about women, but you did not tell me what women, in turn, offer the Buddha by way of retort, did you? Just yesterday, a woman from Magadha came. When the Buddha came to her village, he took the devout children of those who offered him alms into his mendicant order, and those homes were ruined. His disciples boasted that their guru cured the whole world of disease and suffering. And lo and behold, in that very village, the Buddha guru fell so ill with a cold that words cannot describe it? Then even the village women and folk began to make up amusing songs about him and sing them. That woman even sang a song for me—oh, madam, it was just like this:
Song:
Song Details:
Title: My guru, madam
Chāl: Calo Re Māyī Auvāliyā Original:
माझा ग गुरू बाई । भीक दे जो । भिकारी त्यासचि करि पाही ।। ध्रु. ।।
अवघ्या जगवू जगासि आला ।
पडशापायी आपण मेला । वरही जयाचा बरवा । शाप म्हणवी ।। १ Translation:
My guru, madam, he who asks
For alms, makes a beggar of him he finds.
(Chorus)
Come to save the entire world,
He himself was undone by a cold.
His blessing, though fair, a curse it finds.
Shākambhat: It was not for nothing that I called you Siṁhamukhī! Very well, oh, I say, now be a little ‘gomukhī’ (cow-faced, implying docile/quiet); see, Sunās Śeṭ is coming this way. His mother is at death’s door, and seizing this opportunity, I have concocted a grand scheme. I shall count out the money from him, clink-clink. Go inside, go. (Kṣhārā exits.)
Sunāsśeṭ: (Entering) Shākambhat, my good fellow, now at least employ some divine remedy, some charm or other! My mother, alas, will not survive this day. She is about to leave me! Not that her condition is dire. She had been languishing in old age, a mere lump; it is a release for her. But I shall lose my mother! (He sobs.)
Shākambhat: (Suddenly wailing) And she will leave me too! She was my mother as well. Śeṭjī, no, no, Dādā (elder brother), brother, I swear to you that you are my own stepbrother, and your mother is my stepmother! Why do you stare with your mouth agape thus? Dādā, when a secret of your—of our—lineage, hitherto concealed, is unveiled today, you will not be surprised that I hold you in the same regard as I do myself! Oh, brother, my father and yours were one and the same. Your real father is my stepfather, and she, my mother, is now leaving me. (He weeps.)
Sunāsśeṭ: What is it you say? What step-relation? What brother? Have you gone mad? Shākambhat, I forgive you because you are our family’s hereditary priest (upādhyāya). Otherwise, I would not tolerate such nonsensical babble and utterly impudent words merely because of our familiarity.
Shākambhat: I too would not have spoken—but Dādā, it is not merely familiarity; our homes are one. See here what it is. My father gave me this charm (tāīta) upon his deathbed and instructed me that when Sunās Śeṭjī’s mother begins to die, on that very day, I should open this tāīta. Both of us were to read the letter within and both were to offer her water. We were to burn this letter on her funeral pyre. Otherwise, my spirit would become a ghost and hover around both your houses! Therefore, today I broke open the tāīta, opened the letter, and understood the secret! Brother. When your first father passed away, was your mother in Kāśī? Was she delivered of you after his passing?
Sunāsśeṭ: (Angrily) She was, well then? Speak, tell me what it is, at once.
Shākambhat: Then all this is true. My father was there, with her, as her upādhyāya. There, your mother bore a son by him. That is you. You are my brother, just as the charitable Karṇa was to the virtuous Yudhiṣṭhira! Therefore, I say, not my father’s, nay, our father’s—
Sunāsśeṭ: I shall knock out your teeth!
Shākambhat: Knock out my teeth. But as long as I have a tongue, brother, I shall read this letter aloud to all during the old woman’s funeral procession, and I shall offer her water! My father had two wishes: that I should repay the five or six thousand rupees owed to him by your household, so that he might be freed from debt (ṛṇa) and attain salvation (gati). And this was the second wish. Of these two, I must fulfill at least one. Otherwise, his spirit will remain entangled and wander about both you and me as a ghost! If the debt is settled, it is well; otherwise, even if it costs me my life, I shall not refrain from divulging this secret. Brother, my own, my stepbrother he is!
Sunāsśeṭ: (Pushing him away) Away! (Aside) Is this fellow’s intrigue, or his father’s, or my mother’s, truly possible? My mother was indeed at his father’s house over there. Tales of ghosts are also heard, after all. It could be true. My head is throbbing! But whatever it may be, if even a mere rumour of this reaches anyone’s ears tomorrow, people will believe it to be true; it will be difficult to cremate my mother; the whole community will rise up in protest! (Aloud) Shākambhat, you son of a donkey—
Shākambhat: Nay, brother, do not speak such foul words about your own father, for brother, whose son I am, of him are you also a son!
Sunāsśeṭ: Oh, speak softly, at least! Oh, how great is my mother’s reputation among the people! Women consider her a goddess. Do not speak such scandalous things at the time of her passing. Look, I shall relinquish what was owed to me by your father. I shall write you this receipt. Thus he will be freed from debt, and his soul will attain liberation (mukti). When this one wish is fulfilled, will that not suffice? But I swear you by God. Speak not a single word more concerning my mother after this.
Shākambhat: Oh, say ‘my mother,’ brother. Why should I defame her? Your lineage is my lineage. You yourself have become my lineage now! Then again, that same—
Sunāsśeṭ: I told you to abandon that indecency!
Shākambhat: Very well, I shall not speak. One of father’s wishes is fulfilled. That is done. Otherwise, the fear of ghosts! Give me that receipt for the debt repayment.
Sunāsśeṭ: You too write that you will not utter another word.
Shākambhat: Of course, but you too must provide a copy of it. Come inside.
Sunāsśeṭ: That is the custom of business, after all. Come! (Aside) What am I doing? But there is no recourse! Be that as it may, once my mother’s funeral rites (pretavidhi) and post-mortem rituals (aurdhvadehika) are concluded, I shall see to this village scoundrel (gāvkuṭāḷ) somewhere.
Scene 5
Buddha walks, begging for alms. Citizens stand by. Just then, King Shuddhodana arrives.
Shuddhodana: Where is that Siddhartha? Where is that mendicant who defiles the royal lineage?
Siddhartha: Here he is, Your Majesty! This Siddhartha, who once caused you sorrow and who now causes blemish to your lineage, stands here, offering obeisance to his father.
Shuddhodana: My child, Siddhartha, my son, seeing you returned safely to our capital, the ocean of joy surging in my heart has drowned and dissolved all anger at this eccentricity of your mendicant ways! Oh, how humble is my son! Though he has ascended to the rank of Mahanta (Great One) and become the guru of kings and emperors, he has not forgotten his filial dharma (righteous duty). That messenger surely spoke idly, and thus I was angered for naught. You merely entered the capital through a by-path, begging for alms, as is customary for a bhikshu (Buddhist monk), is it not?
Messenger: (Aside) What more did I say, pray tell! But the fault lies not with the angered father; nor with the humble son; the fault, if any, lies with the messenger! A messenger is like a mridanga (percussion instrument), struck on both sides.
Shuddhodana: My beloved son, you have met me – in this, I have forgotten all past sorrow and grief. But my child, Siddhartha, since you left me and the kingdom to undertake penance, for nine or ten years now, I have borne the burden of this kingdom in hope of this day, which has dawned today. This burden of state, from your aged father, O humble son, do you now take upon your capable head and thus render me carefree. This jewelled crown of the Shakya kingdom, O Crown Prince, I place upon your head this day. This crown befits you, a young prince, and tonsure (shaving of the head) befits me, an old man; therefore, free our royal lineage today from the blemish of this uncanonical reversal, occasioned by your tonsure in the prime of youth and my wearing of the crown in my ripe old age. Take this crown and give that kamandalu (water-pot) hither.
Siddhartha: Halt, Your Majesty! Had I not borne another burden upon my head, then perhaps I might have borne the burden of this crown. But I believe I would not have borne it even then. For since childhood, whenever I saw impoverished and toiling farmers drenched in sweat, and soldiers wounded in battle for a king's avarice, bathed in blood, then did this royal crown fill me with disgust. I felt that every idle emerald within this crown was a drop of the sweat of those farmers and labourers, and every greedy ruby and jewel within this crown was a drop of the soldiers' blood. A king's thirst is like a rakshasi (demoness), drinking the blood of these toiling labourers. And this crown is the cup from which that demonic royal thirst drinks blood. O Crown! A kamandalu filled with drops of pure water, equal to the number of jewels within you, and a cupped palm full of grains of rice, are more useful than you. For these may be drunk by the lowly and thirsty, and eaten by the hungry. But you, most useless, shining pebbles, which cannot be drunk, nor eaten – begone! Return to the rubbish heap from which foolish men gathered you, deeming you jewels! (He attempts to cast away the crown, but the royal attendants catch it mid-air.)
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Tujahuni Mukuta Kamandalu Bara
Rāga: X | Tāla: Y | Chāl: Sakal Gada Chanda Kalasan
Original:
तुजहुनि मुकुटा कमंडलु बरा । तू अमोल । कवडि मोल जरि हा ॥ ध्रु.।।
छत्रे तव तापा । अधिक देऊन ।
सुकविले जीव तू । सुखवि सुजले हा ।। १ ।।
Translation:
O crown, the kamandalu is better than you; you are priceless, yet this is but worth a cowrie shell.
(Chorus)
Your canopy, giving more heat,
has withered lives; this one refreshes and soothes.
Siddhartha: Your Majesty, without removing the burden of this crown from my head, where will space be found upon it to bear the burden of the world's welfare?
Shuddhodana: But Siddhartha! Verily, the Kshatriya (warrior/ruling class) lineage into which you were born has the duty of bearing the crown. At the very least, do not practice such a mendicant's life. That is not the dharma of our lineage.
Siddhartha: Your Majesty, that may not be the dharma of your lineage, but it is the dharma of mine.
Shuddhodana: O Siddhartha, in this Shakya lineage of yours, twenty-two ancestors renowned as Mahasamantas (Great Chieftains), twenty-two generations of crowned kings have passed, and not one of them was a beggar. How then do you say that mendicancy is the dharma of your lineage?
Siddhartha: Because, Your Majesty, what you speak of is the lineage of Siddhartha Gautama. But I, the Tathagata (Thus Gone One), am now no longer Siddhartha Gautama, but Buddha. And all the former Buddhas who have appeared in my Buddha lineage have all adhered to this very practice of mendicancy.
Shuddhodana: But even if one is to beg for alms, with arrangements for your entire congregation of disciples made directly within the royal palace, ought one come there first, or wander picking up scraps from the alleys and hovels of these untouchables?
Siddhartha: Your Majesty, suppose a physician possesses an excellent remedy for a certain disease; whose house should he visit first? That of one who is healthy and robust, or that of one who is deeply afflicted by that malady?
Shuddhodana: Of course, that of one who is deeply afflicted by that malady!
Siddhartha: Then, Your Majesty, I acted rightly by first going to these humble untouchables rather than coming to the royal palace first. Through great discipline, I have at last discovered the ultimate remedy for dispelling the supreme suffering of all humankind, and these untouchables among humanity are supremely sorrowful! They have no food, no drink, no shelter; alas, there is none left to even lovingly stroke their backs and offer solace! I have seen thousands of Chaturvarni (members of the four varnas) stroking the backs of village dogs with affection. I have seen Traivarnikas (members of the three higher varnas) cradling pet puppies in their hands and caressing them. But the golden children of these poor, wretched untouchables—no one cares for them even at the price of a dog! Their very shadow is considered defiling! I found no other beings in humanity as sorrowful as these suffering creatures, and so I went first to assuage the grief of these most afflicted ones and to show them the path to taste the bliss of moksha (liberation)! What impropriety was there in this, Your Majesty?
Shuddhodana: There is no doubt that your thoughts are exceedingly noble. But is it not improper to accept alms from such folk? Their impurity...
Siddhartha: If you speak of impurity, then, Your Majesty, the impurity within these untouchables is precisely as crimson, pure, or impure as the impurity within us Brahmins (priestly class) and Kshatriyas! This same blood, this same varna (social class), colour, form, qualities—they are all utterly human beings, Your Majesty! When washed, their hands too become clean. If rice is washed with such water, by such hands, and placed upon such fire by them, then rice as pure as your own cooks in the homes of untouchables too. Such pure rice, given with pure intent—I accepted it. If merely by my lovingly stroking their backs, those humble souls experience heavenly joy; then for me not to show such generosity in stroking their backs, would that not be to forfeit my humanity? Your Majesty, by the arrogance of varna, man has become man's dire enemy. Therefore, the Tathagata Buddha determines the worth of individuals solely by their merits, by their character; not by birth. He finds the fallen even among those born Brahmin and Kshatriya, and he finds Brahmins and Kshatriyas even among those born fallen untouchables. The fountain of immortality that Buddha has established allows every thirsty soul to drink the water of life. There, the defilement of varna-arrogance is not considered.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Varsha Ritu Aala Re
Rāga: X | Tāla: Y | Chāl: Bahar Aayi Re
Original:
वर्षा ऋतु आला रे । भूत दया- घन द्रवला । तप्त लोक धाला ।। ध्रु.।।
ये द्विज चंडाला । जो तो तपला । पात्र तव तैसे ने । जीवन । जाति नचि दयेला ।। १ ।।
Translation:
The rainy season has arrived! The cloud of compassion for beings has melted. The parched folk are quenched.
(Chorus)
Come, Brahmin, Chandala (outcaste), whoever is scorched. Receive life as if you were a vessel. Caste does not determine mercy.
Shuddhodana: You are truly a most extraordinary soul! Blessed is my lineage that you were born of me! Siddhartha, Buddha, you must now come to my royal palace for alms with your disciples at least once. And likewise, you must visit my virtuous daughter-in-law, your sorrowing wife, Queen Yashodhara, at least once.
Siddhartha: As Your Majesty desires!
Buddha begins to walk. All disciples follow him, chanting, "Buddham Sharanam Gacchami, Dharmam Sharanam Gacchami, Sangham Sharanam Gacchami" (I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, I take refuge in the Sangha).
[End of Scene 5]
Scene 6
Sunāsheṭjī's House
Sunāsheṭjī: Mother! Mother! You have left me at last, have you not! (He weeps.)
Women: (Each woman speaking a single sentence) Weep not, Sheṭjī! No ill has befallen her; children, grandchildren, daughters-in-law — fortunate was she, poor soul. This is the way of the world. Weep not! When you weep, we too are moved to tears. Even these little ones begin to cry. (All weep.)
Sunāsheṭ: It was well for her in her old age. But now I have no mother left. Where shall I find such a solace as a mother's presence!
Women: (Each woman speaking a single sentence) Why say so, Sheṭjī? We, your four kinsfolk and neighbours, are here, are we not! We stand in the place of a mother, indeed. We shall not let you feel that your mother is gone. Weep not, Sheṭjī. (They weep.)
Shākambhaṭ: (Entering, aside) Hmm, hmm. I have arrived precisely on time. By having him write this note for me yesterday with his own hand, he is now firmly ensnared in my trap. What does this note say? ‘To Shākambhaṭ: That you should not disclose anywhere the secret concerning my mother and your father, and that I should willingly forgo the debt due to me from you, as was agreed upon between us—according to that understanding, I hereby give this receipt that I have received full payment for all monies owed to me from you.’ He went to entangle me in a written receipt! A merchant's nature is such that once a transaction occurs, he immediately demands 'in writing', and thus he blurted it out and fell into the trap! Too clever by half, and his ox stands idle! Pressing forward, alas, alas! Brother, Mother is gone at last, is she not! If my own mother died, so be it, but now this stepmother too is gone! Oh, how much my father – that is, your father – loved her!
Sunāsheṭ: (Starting up, aside) Is this rogue about to cause some trouble again! (Aloud) Hush, Bhaṭjībuvā! Weep not, let it be. (He places his hand over Shākambhaṭ's mouth.)
Shākambhaṭ: How can I not weep? Do tears come at one's bidding? She was my very own stepmother, was she not! And you are my very own stepbrother, for my father—(Sheṭjī puts his hand over Shākambhaṭ's mouth and silences him)—he is—brother—your—
All People: What is this, Bhaṭjībuvā? Because of grief, must you utter such unseemly words? Consider your caste! Is this a play that you should speak such nonsense?
Shākambhaṭ: It is a play of your grief. Your caste is adopted, but my caste is the true caste of this brother of mine! Now I shall speak everything. (Sheṭjī silences him.)
Sunāsheṭ: Oh, gentlemen, this Brāhmaṇa (Brahmin) is our hereditary Upādhyāya (family priest), raised in our very home. He was like a son to her. Grief has driven him mad. Why heed him? Go, make preparations for the funeral rites. Come, ladies, into the house. Uncles, go to the market. Gather the provisions. What good is mere weeping now? Go! (All depart.)
Shākambhaṭ: Oh, I shall carry my mother's bier. This is my father's letter; this is my brother's letter!
Sunāsheṭ: You wretched Bhaṭūṛyā! If you attempt to extort more money now, I shall hand you over to the king's men! What was agreed upon yesterday?
Shākambhaṭ: This note was agreed upon. In it, you yourself have written that there is some secret concerning your mother, and that I should not reveal it. I shall read this note before these people! Was it not you who, by invoking the charioteer Bāṇa, ruined me? (Loudly) He is my very own stepbrother—
Sunāsheṭ: You have put a noose around my neck, you rogue! Oh, silence! At least tell me once and for all what you will take to keep quiet.
Shākambhaṭ: A thousand, precisely a thousand! (Loudly) Oh, Mother, when your husband passed away in Kashi, my father...
Sunāsheṭ: Oh, silence! What is to be done! Where did I give that rogue the note! Oh, Shākambhaṭ, do not cast doubts into the minds of my kinsmen and leave my mother's corpse lying at the threshold! Have some humanity! Where shall I find a thousand now! Forget everything now; take this salakaḍī (bracelet) and give me that note. People are beginning to arrive, here, give me that note, you rogue, give it quickly, take the salakaḍī, take it, take it, give it!
Shākambhaṭ: (Laughing) How he forces the salakaḍī into my hand! But! He is my very own stepbrother. (They exchange the items.)
Sunāsheṭ: (Seeing the note in his hand) Go, go, do not stand here another moment!
Shākambhaṭ: Oh, I merely stand, Sheṭ! I do not weep, I stand laughing. Merely stand.
Sunāsheṭ: Not merely stand, nor for seasoning! Be off, go! (Shākambhaṭ departs, laughing.) Scoundrel! Village ruffian!! Once my mother's aurdhvadehik (post-funeral rites) are concluded, I shall deal with him, but—
Scene 7
(Buddha, his disciples, and Commander Vikram are seated.)
Buddha: Commander Vikramdev, you are the chief of this Shākya Rāshtra (Shākya Nation). You are also a great sage among the Shākyas, and I know that in your youth you attained perfection by meditating on the profound truths of philosophy with a disciplined mind, observing the discipline of yajña (ritual sacrifice), charity, and austerities. Therefore, one of my main objectives in returning to Kapilavastu is to reveal to you, especially among all the Shākya people, the treasury of ārya satya (noble truths) I have discovered, and to secure your cooperation in carrying the momentum of this great dharmachakra pravartan (turning the wheel of dharma) to the ends of the earth, thereby freeing all beings from sorrow. It is my desire, therefore, that you accept the sanyāsa (renunciation) initiation and join this bhikṣusaṅgha (monastic order). Alas, this very world, even heaven, burns in the fire of tṛṣṇā (craving). The wise man must cast it off like vomit. Just as a creature escaped from a forest fire does not re-enter it, and no one desires a disease to return once cured, so too the wise man does not delight in this world again. In such a state, I fail to comprehend how perfected beings such as yourself can remain in this world, and especially in this military profession, so tainted by violence and treachery.
Vikram: How so, Lord? Just as you, the Ender of Sorrows, can remain in this body afflicted by birth, sickness, old age, and death, even after attaining Nirvāṇa (liberation/extinction of desire)! I ask the Tathāgata (epithet for Buddha): Does this physical body, along with that wisdom and the cessation of tṛṣṇā upon the attainment of Nirvāṇa, instantly dissolve, vanish, melt away like a mirage? If not, is it desirable to forcibly destroy it, to commit suicide, to instantly break the shackles of the body? If not, must not even the liberated, even the Buddhas, sustain their bodies? Even if it be videha-mukti (bodiless liberation), if physically it is sadeha (with body) until death, then must not the mundane duties of bodily sustenance be performed? Moreover, great souls like yourself do not wander alone in the forest like a rhinoceros, indulging in the joy of liberation, but rather, moved by the sorrows of the afflicted, you establish this vast enterprise of preaching, propagation, the Saṅgha (Buddhist monastic community) of disciples, debates, monasteries, and abbacy, all to bestow upon the people the benefit of eternal happiness. Why is that?
Buddha: Commander, it is true that the body does not vanish immediately after the attainment of Nirvāṇa. If so, you ask: 'Is it desirable to forcibly abandon the body after Nirvāṇa?' To that, the Tathāgata's clear answer is that forcible abandonment of the body is a new karma (action/deed), and as such, it leads to rebirth. And to transcend birth and death is indeed the Tathāgata's goal. Therefore, the Tathāgata has not abandoned his body. The bodily existence, a consequence of past karma, will cease of its own accord when its time comes! Far from destroying the body, even self-mortification is not sanctioned by the Tathāgata. The Middle Path is the golden path. Keeping the body healthy and efficient and constantly wearing it out in altruistic service for the welfare of the people, this is true bodily austerity. Compassion is the beloved of the liberated, and constantly showering the nectar of Nirvāṇa upon those afflicted by sorrow, motivated by that compassion — this is the renunciant's worldly existence.
Vikram: Then renunciants, too, have a worldly existence! You mentioned the doctrines of rebirth, karma, and the fruits of karma, as other-worldly principles, as reasons for not destroying the body immediately upon liberation. I shall set aside discussion of these as irrelevant to my present purpose. And I desire to discuss only the worldly aims, nature, and consequences of the practical conduct of living out one's bodily existence, or the renunciant's worldly existence inspired by altruism, such as great souls like yourself establish—since even those who have themselves attained Nirvāṇa, who have experienced self-realization and self-grace, deem immediate bodily destruction undesirable. I ask the Tathāgata: Is not the main difference, in your opinion, between the conduct of a liberated one living in a monastery – concerning food, clothing, and sleep – and that of an bound householder, simply that the former acts dispassionately, for subsistence, or for egoless altruism, while the latter does not?
Buddha: Yes.
Vikram: Then, if someone, a wise and perfected one, were to carry out these activities, this worldly journey, with such dispassionate wisdom for the sake of altruism even within a household, then from the perspective of the videha (bodiless) state, there could be no objectionable difference between such a monastic and such a householder, could there?
Buddha: I concede that the conduct of a videha-mukta (bodiless liberated one) can proceed within a household just as within a monastery. Temptations exist even in monasteries! However, it is evident that they will be greater within a household.
Vikram: But that fear applies to aspirants, not to the liberated or perfected ones. For we call him an aspirant who still fears temptations, not a perfected one. Now, since the liberated one undertakes this vast enterprise of propagating the dharma and serving the people solely for altruism, for compassion towards the suffering, the main question I wish to have answered by you is whether this worldly altruism is best achieved by indiscriminately giving sanyāsa-dīkṣā (initiation into renunciation) to all, or by becoming a monastic, or by remaining a householder. Is not the principal distinction between the sanyāsāśrama (stage of renunciation) of a videha and the gṛhasthāśrama (stage of householder) of a videha, or, in short, between householdership and renunciation, that in the sanyāsāśrama one must generally make an absolute renunciation of kāminī (woman/sensual desire), kṛṣi (agriculture), and kṛpāṇa (sword), whereas in the gṛhasthāśrama this is not required? By kṛṣi is meant the livelihood of sustenance, by kāminī procreation, and by kṛpāṇa participation in armed conflict when necessary.
Buddha: Generally, as you say, the renunciant must take a vow of absolute renunciation of kāminī, kṛṣi, and kṛpāṇa; that is indeed the main practical difference between the two āśramas (stages of life).
Vikram: Then, O Tathāgata, I state explicitly that the work of altruism can be accomplished to a greater extent even by the liberated if they adopt the gṛhasthāśrama rather than the sanyāsāśrama. Not only that, but the recruitment you are making to your renunciate bhikṣusaṅgha, without the slightest consideration of suitability, of all those who wish to become a bhikṣu (mendicant monk), will lead to a great disservice in the transformation of beneficence! Yesterday you admitted Rāhula, your own eight- or nine-year-old son, into the bhikṣusaṅgha! Now consider the enormous calamity that will befall by indiscriminately drawing even tender children, who have no notion of what worldly life or renunciation is, into the renunciate bhikṣusaṅgha! Let me take the case of this very Shākya Nation as an example. You embraced renunciation; you gave sanyāsa-dīkṣā to Prince Ānanda and Devadatta; and finally, Prince Rāhula, that eight-year-old child, too, has been taken into the bhikṣusaṅgha, thus plucking the last bud from the vine of the Shākya royal lineage, which is already nearing its demise. With all the best men, even from the feudal clans, having taken sanyāsa, the growth of excellent progeny from virtuous and noble seed has ceased in this nation. Only the progeny of the vicious and inferior people continued to increase. In such a situation, the same misfortune will befall the Shākya race as befalls the crop of a farmer who merely casts aside good seed and sows only rotten, inferior seeds! If your propagation continues in this manner, with the first vow of sanyāsa-dharma (righteous duty of renunciation), the renunciation of kāminī, and celibacy, leading to such depopulation and decline in good progeny, then hundreds of these people will break their ploughs, abandon their looms, leave their shops, and swell the ranks of beggars in the bhikṣusaṅgha, living off the labour of others! For the abandonment of agriculture is the second vow of sanyāsa-dharma! Let others cultivate the land until they die. To eat that ready-made food is not a sin in sanyāsa-dharma. But farming is a sin, for many creatures die by the plough, hence agriculture is violence-prone! The renunciant himself will not engage in such sinful farming — but he will not refrain from eating the food of those sins, perpetrated by others! It would be less sinful for the renunciant to farm himself and eat that food than this hypocrisy.
Buddha: Commander Vikram, are not renunciants like me a kind of farmer? Behold, I clear the wilderness of this worldly illusion and plough the field of the mind with the plough of knowledge. Moral principles are the handle of my plough, industriousness is its ox, I sow the seeds of saddharma (true doctrine) tenets, it is watered by the sight of good deeds, and thereafter it yields a crop of eternal life that ends all sorrow!
Vikram: But, Lord, how many such symbolic farmers like yourself are there in your sanyāsī (renunciant) Saṅgha, who cultivate the nectar-fruit of the supremely auspicious teachings of social virtue? How many are there in this whole world? One, two, at most three. But behold how the economic strength of the nation is weakened by the idleness of the hundreds of unemployed sanyāsī bhikṣu vairāgī (renunciant monks, ascetics, etc.) who gather under the yellow banner of these lone, true farmers! For every person who forsakes worldly life to become a sanyāsī or śramaṇa (ascetic), society loses the earning capacity of two persons – that of the renunciate śramaṇa himself, and that of the worker who supports the śramaṇa. Every śramaṇa is an embodied tax upon every useful profession in society! Take your own Saṅgha! In eight years, thousands of people have joined it. If this continues for a thousand years, that number will reach millions! Furthermore, does not this worldly existence of the renunciant require anything? Though they may not have a double-storied mansion like a householder, they need robes; though not pleasure palaces, they need vihāra (monastic residences); though not temples, they need monasteries; though not modaka (sweets), they need salt and bread. They need sandals, blankets, physicians, medicines, utensils, and even quarrels! Did not the Tathāgata himself often have to threaten to disband the Saṅgha due to the quarrels between opposing factions within it? Lord, just as a household where one brother earns and four merely wander about as idlers is bound to fall into ruin, so too will a society, deprived of the wealth-production of millions and burdened by their upkeep for generations, inevitably fall into ruin. The second vow of sanyāsāśrama, the abandonment of the wealth-producing occupation of agriculture, will have such dire consequences, leading to the misfortune rather than the welfare of the people.
Buddha: But Commander, material wealth is not the only true wealth. Worldly advancement is not the sole puruṣārtha (aim of human life) of man. You forget that other-worldly advancement is the true puruṣārtha!
Vikram: Nay! Nay! You have already conceded that the practice of dharma essential for attaining Nirvāṇa, or for the sake of Nirvāṇa, can be achieved even in the gṛhasthāśrama. Therefore, setting aside other-worldly welfare as a common factor for both, it is the comparison of worldly gains and losses that must be made. Indeed, even for the renunciant's existence, the householder's existence is essential. Only if the householder cultivates rice will the renunciant eat by begging for bhikṣā (alms)! If one possesses a detached mind, is there any difference in being bound by spending time begging or spending time farming? Therefore, I say that even liberated ones like yourself could achieve greater public welfare if, instead of binding yourselves with the distorted vows of sanyāsāśrama, you were to live lives of public service within the natural tradition of gārhasthya (householdership). But even if we set aside the question of such extraordinary beings as the Lord, the entry into sanyāsāśrama must be strictly prohibited for all other people. For the two vows a renunciant must take – the absolute renunciation of kāminī and kṛṣi – lead to the decline of population and wealth in a nation, causing harm, as I have just demonstrated. But far more dreadful damage is being inflicted upon this society, this nation, by the renunciant's third vow, the renunciation of the kṛpāṇa, by that deluded ideal of extreme Ahiṁsā (non-violence)! Lord, this is not extreme Ahiṁsā; this is extreme self-destruction! And since the destruction of the self is also violence, extreme Ahiṁsā thus implies extreme violence! Such is the strange import of this foolish definition of Ahiṁsā.
Buddha: But we are not at all partisans of extreme Ahiṁsā. Not only that, but to resist aggressors with proportionate force and counter-attack for the protection of the righteous and for self-preservation is not violence; on the contrary, it is a meritorious act that thwarts the game of violence. Such is the opinion of the Tathāgata. But this is the duty of the gṛhasthāśrama, not of the sanyāsāśrama!
Vikram: And that is precisely why I say that the sanyāsāśrama, which requires the absolute renunciation of the sword that protects justice, is the greatest calamity that can befall any nation! A nation where millions of people take oaths not to wield the plough, not to touch weapons, and reside in monasteries, is bound to sooner or later cry out for food, become weak, and fall prey to the sharp claws of some worldly, aggressive nation, like a tiger's pounce! By advocating such renunciation-prone ways, the very worldly existence for whose welfare you, even in your state of liberation, undertake this dharmachakra pravartan and this Saṅgha activity, will surely be utterly destroyed. But in the end, this great religious institution of yours, these Saṅghas, these millions of bhikṣus, these spiritual practices, these meditations, these hermitages—this entire renunciate world—will also be torn asunder and annihilated by the bloody talons of cruel wild beasts and even crueler demons!
Buddha: But Commander, a renunciant also holds a kṛpāṇa. A weapon it is. Though it be not of iron, it is for that very reason more efficacious than iron. That renunciant's weapon is called Kṣamā (forgiveness)! Vikram, ‘Kṣamā śastraṁ kare yasya śatrūstasya karoti kim?’ (What can an enemy do to him who holds the sword of forgiveness in his hand?)
Vikram: What? Death! Annihilation of life! Only he who possesses the power to punish can forgive. The forgiveness of the weak, who lack the power to punish, is called surrender—not a weapon! When a cow lies down meekly before a hungry, bloodthirsty tiger, will that tiger spare her, fearing her weapon of forgiveness? Even if that cow says, "I forgive you," the tiger will surely devour her; even if she says, "I surrender," he will devour her! A nation that relies on the foolish hope that continually forgiving wicked enemies will make them cease their aggression will be utterly destroyed by those same enraged enemies, who consider such forgiveness an affront, as soon as an opportunity arises! Such examples have occurred in history, and alas, they are yet to occur! This Shākya Nation of ours is a republic. On one side lies the powerful monarchical state of Kosala, on the other, the monarchical kingdom of Magadha. Between these two powerful monarchical states, the Shākya republic is caught. The moment it becomes even slightly weak, it will inevitably fall prey to the aggression of one of these two vultures. In such a situation, to hold before the people of this nation the distorted ideal that not touching weapons is the excellent way of life, the pinnacle of morality, the sacred path to attaining the Buddha's grace, seems to me utterly self-destructive.
Buddha: That would be true, were it not that I am striving to turn away even the two aggressive monarchs you cited from warfare; indeed, I have all but done so. See here, does it not seem shameful to you that men should butcher men like vegetables with swords merely to establish superiority in a savage struggle for power? Likewise, if all nations of mankind were to resolve to desist from this shameful thirst for war, if all were to practice the supremely generous principles of my dharma — love, compassion, forgiveness, peace, and Ahiṁsā — then would there be any cause for an individual or a single nation to fear? Behold, it has not been even ten years since the Tathāgata established this Saṅgha, and already King Pradyotana of Kosala and King Bimbisāra of Magadha, whose aggression against our Shākya race you so intensely fear, have both taken initiation into the Tathāgata Buddha's dharma and become our disciples! If the most capable men of the Shākya Nation, like Commander Vikram, were not merely to accept my discipleship but actually embrace bhikṣutva (monkhood) and set forth with me to spread this compassionate dharma, then all these nations would place their trust in our teachings; they would no longer truly feel the necessity of war; they would abhor it; and you would become a partner in the great merit of uprooting war entirely from among humankind! Vikram, is not the goal of eradicating war, strife, and bloodshed from the world, a noble enough endeavour for us to exert our utmost efforts and make the ultimate sacrifices?
Vikram: Lord, it is indeed noble, noble in the extreme. But I entertain grave doubts as to whether it is possible, and furthermore, whether it is possible by these means.
Buddha: Commander, regarding that doubt, I say only this: have a little faith! If you will aid me, you shall see the cessation of armed warfare in India within, say, twenty to twenty-five years! You shall witness the era of weapons give way to an era of peace!
Vikram: May God grant that it be so! The most terrible enemy of mankind, the destroyer of men, is man himself; may this stain upon humanity be washed away as soon as possible, and may the honour of establishing the empire of peace be bestowed upon our Shākyasiṁha Tathāgata Buddha alone! However, gentlemen, with great sorrow yet fearlessly, I must voice my apprehension that not only after twenty-five years, but even after twenty-five hundred years from today, the prevalence of the age of weapons will still be manifest in this world, by its ill fortune; might will continue to be right; the triumphant charger of blood-stained empires will rampage across the earth, and under its hooves, those will be crushed first and foremost who, deeming this dream-utterance of an age of peace a prophecy, rely upon it and are the first to renounce arms, becoming so weak as to depend on the mercy of others! They will swallow the noose of violence for the allure of Ahiṁsā! The dire consequences of this terrible delusion, which admits anyone into the sanyāsāśrama and thereby renders millions of people impotent with the vow of renouncing arms, will be suffered by India for twenty-five generations! Nevertheless, lest future generations mistakenly believe that this experiment failed because a peerless soul like Lord Buddha lacked support in this meritorious endeavour, I shall comply with the Tathāgata's wish; and from this day forth, I join this bhikṣusaṅgha. (Removing the kṛpāṇa from his waist) This sword, dedicated to the service of the Shākyas, and my only son, Vallabha, I entrust to the care of my Shākya race, and I embrace the parivrājaka (wandering ascetic) āśrama.
Buddha: Commander, this sacrifice of yours for the welfare of the people is commendable, such that even the gods would nod their heads in approval, exclaiming, "Blessed! Blessed!" Behold, come what may, even if history records that we strove to our utmost to establish an empire of peace, compassion, and love in this world, even if humanity gains experience from the outcome of such an experiment, whether successful or not – even that failure must be deemed partially successful! Come, Shariputra, take this honourable newcomer to the Saṅghārāma (monastery) and administer the Saṅgha-dīkṣā (initiation into the Saṅgha).
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Today the Age of Weapons ends
Chāl: Rūp Jovan Guṇ Gharau Rahat Hai Original: आज शस्त्रयुग जगी सरतसे । शांतियुग अहा आले ।। ध्रु. ।। दंड हिसकि त्या । दया परतवी । त्याग न वांछी । कलह विझाले ।। १ ।। Translation: Today the age of weapons doth conclude on earth; Behold! The age of peace hath dawned. (Chorus) It snatcheth punishment, and mercy doth restore; Craving it desireth not, and strife is quenched.
(All depart, uttering ‘Buddhaṁ Śaraṇaṁ Gacchāmi, Dhammaṁ Śaraṇaṁ Gacchāmi, Saṅghaṁ Śaraṇaṁ Gacchāmi’ (I go for refuge to the Buddha, I go for refuge to the Dhamma, I go for refuge to the Saṅgha).)
Act II
Scene 1
Sunas Shet: (Clapping his hands with joy) She is dead! At last, this Shakambhat's wife is dead. Ever since she fell ill with patki (cholera) yesterday, I have been waiting for her to die! When my mother passed away, this vile Shakambhat concocted a false accusation and caused her corpse to be laid at the doorstep, and now the opportunity has come for me to take my revenge. Now I shall turn his own trick upon him. Fearing that some ill repute might attach to my mother and that my caste might be ostracized even at the funeral pyre itself, I then gave that fellow, the priest, a salkadi (ornament) — now I shall make him disgorge it. Moreover, I shall take his remaining house on mortgage; only then shall I release him. His wife, Kshara, was my bosom friend. I shall simply go about proclaiming that I shall be the one to light her funeral pyre! Oh, Shakambhat, you shall reap what you have sown!
Shakambhat: She is gone at last, this woman! A wife she truly was, who quarrelled her whole life and died. And she died so suddenly that not only others, but even I myself, might suspect if I had poisoned her. A truly chaste wife! I am to receive a sharp lesson for having wedded her, even after her death; so suddenly did she pass. Here come her sundry relatives! The women and folk from the neighbourhood! Not even an hour has passed since her corpse was laid out, and all have gathered. Like flocks of kites and vultures descending upon a beast as soon as it falls, these relatives await who will die when. Indeed, when someone dies in another's house, it is quite a spectacle! If I were to receive an invitation to a pauper's wedding procession and tidings of a rich man's funeral procession simultaneously, I would first go to witness the spectacle of the rich deceased. The bathing of the corpse, the children who watch, alternately fearful and venturing closer, that exhibition of men and women, the weeping by turns, the putrid hideousness of the bare corpse and the embellished hideousness that becomes it after adornment, the filling of the lap (with auspicious items) — after their laps are filled, some women's corpses even appear more radiant than many living women. At least more fair and smiling than our Lanka here! Then, the funeral procession, at times, is filled with more colour than a dindi (pilgrim's procession) on Ekadashi; the blazing of the pyre! When all this spectacle is underway at a house of death, if one receives a call from a living member of one's own household, the mind does not wish to depart, but remains engrossed there — this is an experience common to many. Verily, man is fond of festivals; even if that festival be of death! Leave aside others, but often, even when someone dies in one's own home, what must the minds of the assembled people be thinking, even amidst the genuine surge of grief? Weeping, such thoughts cannot but arise: "Does she truly grieve, or not? Does he look at me, or not? It would be well if such-and-such person were to see me weeping." As for me, I confess, I harbour a peculiar fancy to witness my own corpse! Here they all come! Now the main difficulty is bringing forth tears. If I do not weep copiously today, what will people say? Indeed, just as women weep when their sole husband departs, so too, when a sole wife passes away, we ought to weep. But how is it that tears do not yet come? I feel quite ashamed. As the ritualistic commencement of the funeral rites, I must at least produce a lament.
(Begins to weep, just as the women arrive.)
(Aside) Oh, how strange, as I weep, genuine tears begin to flow!
Women: (Each speaking a sentence in turn) Oh, Bhatjibuwa (priest, an honorific), now you must control your heart, we say. Her soul has turned to gold, yes, she departs with a full lap (of auspiciousness). Oh, what a good nature she had! Peace, Bhatjibuwa, seeing you weep, tears come to us too! These children...
Shakambhat: Women, omit that sentence about children. As a special exception for this occasion, omit that particular sentence from these customary Prakrit (vernacular) pronouncements, just as there are customary Sanskrit hymns for the funeral rites, for she had no children. And then say that one remaining sentence: "Bhatjibuwa, you must restrain your grief, paying heed to the ways of the world." Once one of you utters that, I shall be able to control my sorrow.
(Weeps again.)
Women: (In turns) Bhatjibuwa, you must restrain your grief according to the ways of the world! Indeed, when Sunas Shet's own mother died, we told him, and he controlled his grief. He did not weep so much; and how is it that you lose all patience?
Shakambhat: Women, this very memory of yours makes me weep all the more, my fortitude crumbles! For when Sunas Shet's mother passed away, you ten relatives and neighbouring women, feeling sorrow, said to him, "Though your mother is gone, we are here, are we not? Consider us in place of your mother, we shall care for you likewise!" Then Shetji restrained his grief; but today my wife has died, and so many of you are here, yet no one says, "Shakambhat, it is true one wife has died (weeping) but we many women are here, are we not? Consider any one of us you please in Kshara's stead."
Sunas Shet: (Entering, weeping) Where is my beloved! My Kshara has left me! Oh, let me embrace her one last time!
Shakambhat: (Jumping up suddenly) Hey, you vanagata (low-caste fellow), what do you say?
(Aside) It seems this esteemed gentleman intends to turn my own trick upon me. Truly, the rug has come around my neck! But what use is weeping now? I must face this calamity.
(Aloud) Hmm, hmm, Shetji! Come here.
Sunas Shet: You priestling, now tell me whether I have caught you in a snare or not. Now, when your relatives arrive, I shall make a great commotion. Else, return the salkadi and mortgage your remaining house! And...
Shakambhat: Let that salkadi and such be. Oh, I was mistaken! Forgive me, some humanity...
Sunas Shet: Humanity burnt on my mother's pyre. Hand over the salkadi. — The house on mortgage! See, your caste-folk have arrived, hmm, shall I shout?
(People enter.)
Shakambhat: Hmm. The fellow has mounted his high horse. Come then, shout whatever you wish to shout!
Sunas Shet: (Weeping and shouting) Gentlemen, call me mad! Call me insane! Call me vile – but I am truly mad with grief. Oh Kshara! My friend – my beloved of eight years! How much she loved my nose! We harboured a fervent secret love for each other! Oh, let me embrace her one last time! I shall perform sahagaman (self-immolation) with her corpse! Release me!
People: Bhatji, what is this matter? This fellow smears darkness upon your entire lineage! If this be true, then this is a question of caste!
Shakambhat: It may be a matter of caste. But not of mine; it is a matter of the caste of that dead corpse. What, Sunas! Do you wish to give the corpse a last embrace? To perform sahagaman? Hmm, come then (rolling up his sleeves). Hmm, come, bind him to the bier as well! Bring that corpse!
(The people bring the corpse.)
Sunas Shet: (Startled) Ah! Oh, Bhatjibuwa, why do you come to such an extreme at once! Will you not propose some compromise?
Shakambhat: Fool, how would compromise suit such fervent love as yours! The soul of your beloved will writhe in agony if you do not burn with her! Come, come, bind him to this corpse!
People: Oh, but such corruption within the caste! This corpse! How can this be permitted?
Shakambhat: This corpse, along with him and this bier, shall travel on my shoulders. (He pulls Shetji and presses his face towards the corpse's face.)
Sunas Shet: Oh my goodness, oh, I am filled with terror just by looking at this corpse. If you lay me beside that corpse even for a moment, I shall faint and even die from fright. (Whispering in Shakambhat's ear) Oh, if you give me ten rupees, it is enough, I will leave without saying a word.
Shakambhat: Nonsense. Today, I shall not let you return! You had love, did you not?
Sunas Shet: But you have misinterpreted it entirely! By God's oath, your wife was my upadhyay's (teacher's) wife – my adopted sister-in-law – a sisterly love!
People: He is a rogue, is he not! Bind him. He said he would perform sahagaman with her, did he not? Did you not say earlier that you would perform sahagaman?
Sunas Shet: Oh, that is, to proceed towards the cremation ground with her corpse, accompanied by you all. To go as far as the cremation ground, that was my meaning! Oh my goodness, oh, release me!
Shakambhat: I shall not release you thus! I shall place you upon the pyre with her, then pour cans of oil upon you, then the wood will catch fire and flames will rise, and you will burn brightly like a lamp, your drops of flesh and blood scattering like sputtering seasoning.
Sunas Shet: (Jumping as if scalded with each of his sentences) Oh, I am burnt, I am consumed by fire. My brother, father, my mother, release me! I will listen to whatever you say, release me!
Shakambhat: Then take out this new pair of your salkadi. Beg forgiveness from all these people! Slap yourself once, hold your ears and leave! You try to turn my own trick upon me, do you? Remember this: "Jeno kam teno thay duja kare so gota khay!" (Each to his own trade, another who tries, stumbles and falls!) Go! Go! Oh, your ear has slipped! Hold it and go!
(Curtain)
Scene 2
(Sulochana and Vallabh are seated in the palace.)
Sulochana: My Vallabha! I did not speak your name, you see. I say 'Vallabha' in the sense of 'my beloved', 'my dearest'. Otherwise, as your name is also Vallabh, I might be accused of forsaking the modesty of maidens who do not utter their consort's name without an ukhāṇā (riddle or rhyming couplet)! And if this be a fault, then it lies with your parents who bestowed upon you, my playful spouse, a name that steals away a loving adjective from our tongue and places me in such a predicament. Is that not so? So, may I not say 'Vallabha'?
Vallabh: Speak it then, my Sulochana! – But I, too, did not say 'Sulochana' because it is your name, you see! I spoke it as an adjective, in praise of your enchanting eyes. Else you would say I have abandoned the courtesy of a man not uttering his wife’s name without an ukhāṇā! And if there be any fault in that, it lies with your parents, who, by bestowing upon you such beautiful eyes (sulocana) and then naming you Sulochana, have made it impossible for admirers of merit like myself to even attempt to praise your eyes.
Sulochana: Away with you, dear one; you shall not ensnare me by borrowing my own words. It seems men are quite incapable of original, independent wit; else why would they need to steal our 'leftover' jests?
Vallabh: If we perchance steal a jest of yours, you repay yourselves a hundredfold by stealing our hearts. So it is quits, then!
Sulochana: It is for this reason, I perceive, that your attention towards me has now dwindled almost to naught. Truly, Vallabha, since your appointment to the post of Commander-in-Chief of this Shākya (clan/republic) nation, your regard for me has become quite diminished! Since yesterday, I have been observing whether you recall that today marks the first anniversary of our union of love. My dear, has it occurred to you now? As it is the first anniversary of our love-marriage, my lord, I desire to perform Kāmadeva's (the god of love) worship in my heart.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Mlān Kā Mukhpankajabhā
Chāl: Mlān Kā Mukhpankajabhā Original:
स्वर्ग ज्याने वाचविला । कामदेवा नमन त्याला ।। ध्रु.।।
यद्बले स्त्री । विजय झाला । अंबिकेच्या । चरण चाला ।
वरति संशय नाचवीला । शंभु शंकर नाचवीला ।। १ ।। Translation:
To Kāmadeva, who rescued paradise, our obeisance.
(Chorus)
By whose might, women achieved triumph;
They made Ambikā's feet dance,
And stirred doubt above, making Shambhu Shankar dance.
Vallabh: But I say, if by the might of Kāmadeva women have become so powerful, then why do they supplicate before us men, like helpless ones, to obtain permission for the worship of that very deity of love?
Sulochana: Because you are now the Commander-in-Chief of the Shākya nation! It is but a matter of courtesy to show some deference to your position as Commander. Moreover, my erstwhile singular sway over your heart no longer remains. Once this resplendent sword (asīlatā) embraces the waist of valorous men, the pull of us women, like tender creepers, slackens before it. Who can say when this sharp rival of mine will seek to undermine me? Thus, I thought it best to consult both of you before indulging my fond desire. So, shall we not then perform Kāmadeva's worship on the auspicious occasion of our love's anniversary?
Vallabh: But dear one, has the anniversary of our love's union truly arrived? What a joyful matter this is! Then how shall the anniversary of our love-marriage be celebrated by merely performing Kāmadeva's arcā (ritualistic worship)? We are well aware of the noble custom that any day in a life of love may be celebrated by performing the arcā of Lord Kāmadeva. But if today is indeed the true anniversary of our union of love, then, my dear Sulochana, it must be celebrated with the fulfillment of desires (dohada). Speak then, what longings (ḍohaḷe) beset my Sulochana? Our love has grown; that which is twofold, my auspicious one, this familial love of ours shall now become threefold!
Sulochana: Do you see the crude jest of men? I do not like such things. If my father-in-law were here today—
Vallabh: He would not even glance at your face! For you know well that your father-in-law is a renowned sanyāsī (ascetic). And sanyāsīs consider even the remembrance of women a sin. So, to speak on their behalf is out of the question.
Sulochana: But my father-in-law could not possibly be such a fanatical sanyāsī. If he were, would he then have such an inveterate love-thief of a son, who sends secret love-letters to an eligible maiden like me through the hands of maidservants, and steals my heart into his own keeping through them? This is my proof!
Vallabh: And here is my proof. (Presenting a letter) Look, this letter from my father—your father-in-law—came to me just today. How delighted I am to see Father’s letter after all these days! Sulochana, it will be nigh on forty years today since my father, General Vikramsingh, the eminent former Commander of this Shākya nation, entered the bhikkhu-sangha (monastic order) at the insistent urging of Lord Buddha. At that time, Sulochana, you have heard, I was but a year and a half or two years old. From that time until now, to my knowledge, only two such letters have come from Father: one, roughly ten years ago, consoling me on the death of my beloved mother, and this second one, congratulating me now.
Sulochana: What is the congratulation for? It seems they have heard the news of our love-marriage! My dear, do tell me truly; my father-in-law is not displeased upon hearing of our union, is he? An ascetic devoted to penance, and moreover, one of Lord Buddha’s bhikkhus, who glare so fiercely at women – the mere mention of a bhikkhu’s name fills us brides with such dread. You presented that letter as proof against me regarding women only in jest, did you not? There is truly nothing adverse in it, is there? Do tell me, dear one, whose congratulations it is!
Vallabh: Mine! Father has congratulated me on the Shākya nation returning to our lineage today the sword of commander-ship which he laid down forty years ago, by appointing me to that very post. Because I married you…
Sulochana: Because of what? Is he angry? Why do you not tell me? He will not be angry. I shall fall at his feet. Let me see that letter! Go. You will not give it? No? (She makes to leave.)
Vallabh: Hey, foolish one, at least listen. Not only is he not angry; but on the contrary, that I am married, and moreover, to a consort like you from the Koliyan clan of the venerable Yashodharā—
Sulochana: That is not so. Show me the letter. Now I have no trust whatsoever in your piecemeal news. You will not show it, will you? Just you see! I shall not ask again.
Vallabh: This seems to be the first dohada, the first longings, of our wedding anniversary. From these combative longings, the son will be quarrelsome, just like his mother. Hey Sulochana—Oh no, I erred! Wait, wait, he will be quarrelsome like his father, then that is settled! Nay, not even that. It will not be a son, but a daughter! Here, take the letter, Sulochana.
Sulochana: Give it here then. We shall read it together, shall we? No, dear one, you must read it yourself. Will you not?
Vallabh: Oh, but yes. (He opens the letter and reads.) —"My son, Vallabha, I have just received news that the citizens of the Shākya Prājaka (republic), the democratic nation of the Shākyas, have bestowed upon you the rank of Commander; concerning this, we heartily congratulate you and your new bride, whose hand you have taken, and whom we already know to be from the illustrious Koliyan lineage. It is commonly understood that ascetics consider the taking of a woman's hand and a sword (kṛpāṇa) to be tāmasī (dark, ignorant), forbidden, at most pardonable, but not commendable; thus, you might feel hesitant, thinking this act of yours would not seem justifiable to your ascetic father. But Vallabha, I find this attainment of both conjugal status and military command not merely justifiable but indeed worthy of congratulation. We are purposefully sending this congratulatory letter of blessing so that you and all other youths of the Shākya nation may know this.”
Sulochana: (Sighing) My lord, my beloved, my spirit has at last settled. How truly compassionate is my aged father-in-law! He has not even fully seen me yet; yet what boundless affection! Well, will you not read further?
Vallabh: But the subsequent part of this letter is exceedingly grave.
Sulochana: Very well, then you should read it with utter unadulterated gravity. (She stands, her face stern.)
Vallabh: That is precisely the difficulty. One might sweeten one's mouth by rinsing it with seawater, but one cannot assume a grave demeanour when standing before women. At least I, for one, cannot help but smile a little upon seeing you.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Brijpat Prabhudeen
Chāl: Brijpat Prabhudeen Original:
नारी विधि निर्मि मुळी । पिकविण्या हसे ।। ध्रु. ।।
नयनि तिखट जाता रडू आवरणे शक्य असे । परि
दिसता नारि हसू आवरणे शक्य नसे ।। १ ।। Translation:
Woman was fashioned by the Creator solely to evoke smiles.
(Chorus)
Though sharp pain brings tears, it is possible to restrain weeping;
Yet, upon seeing a woman, it is impossible to restrain laughter.
Sulochana: I am, indeed, such a laughable object to you! So, you will not read it in my presence then? Why such reluctance? I am quite eager to hear it now. Will you not listen to me? Am I not your better half?
Vallabh: Then here, take half the letter, torn off, and read your part yourself! Come, Sulochana, I shall not speak thus anymore. Come! Father writes further: "The destruction of the senses is not mastery over the senses. Even an ascetic does not blind himself by plucking out his eyes, nor become mute by cutting out his tongue, nor lose his sense of smell by stitching his nose, nor become crippled by severing his limbs. Why should not the same apply to all bodily and sensory functions? The natural operations of all these senses are equally faultless, necessary for the sustenance of society; hence, it is false that all purity and merit are stored solely in the extreme renunciation of conjugal life. The misconception spreads among people that extraordinary men are considered extraordinary precisely because they become ascetics. But that is not the truth. Great souls like Buddha would have been worthy of extraordinary status and sacred veneration even if they had remained householders. Therefore, Vallabha, fulfil your conjugal dharma (righteous duty) appropriately and without hesitation. May the womb of your consort be blessed with strong and virtuous progeny. May your sword, wielded for the welfare of the people, ever be capable of punishing the wicked! And in this sacrificial life-journey, may the joys of the householder's life not become fetters that merely impede your feet, but rather offerings that bring that sacrifice to fruition! Such a worldly life (saṁsāra) is as sacred as sanyāsa (asceticism), perhaps even more meritorious!" Did you hear how exalted these thoughts are?
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Chandā Kamal Bāl
Chāl: Chandā Kamal Bāl Original:
संसार रति होय । धर्मानुसरणांत । बेडी पदी ना । बलिदान जरि ही ।। ध्रु.।।
संसारचि धन्य । संन्याससम पुण्य । तो भोग श्रेयान् । त्यागाहुनीही ।। १ ।। Translation:
Worldly pleasure becomes love's delight,
When trodden on paths of dharma.
No fetters these, but offerings bright,
A sacrifice, though it may be.
(Chorus)
Blessed is this worldly life,
As virtuous as renunciation's strife.
Its enjoyment is more meritorious,
Than any ascetic's sacrifice.
Sulochana: This is what one calls a true renunciant – a true sage! Do you see how liberal are my father-in-law's views? He is a divine man! But Vallabha, to whom does my father-in-law's letter allude at the end, when it mentions the "fetters of worldly pleasures"?
Vallabh: To whom, you ask? To women! Women are indeed the very fetters upon men's feet.
Sulochana: Is that so? Well, my lord, is Lord Buddha not an extraordinary great soul?
Vallabh: What doubt is there in that! But it is precisely because he cast off the fetters of woman from his feet that he was able to become extraordinary.
Sulochana: That is not what I asked you. You need only tell me this: if King Śuddhodana—that is, Buddha's father—had similarly cast off the fetters of Māyādevī, Buddha's mother, from his feet, would your extraordinary Lord Buddha then ever have been known to people? In that case, at least half the merit of the public welfare achieved by Buddha must go to the female sex, which made Buddha's very existence possible. It was because the golden chain of Kaushalyā's love linked itself to Dasharatha's life like an enchanted ray that the advent of Rāmachandra became possible. If Vasudeva had embraced sanyāsa in his childhood, would Krishna then have sprung up like grass in the pastures of Gokula?
Vallabh: But, my dear, this only proves that men should not consider women utterly useless. But does it then prove that women are not the fetters on men's feet in worldly life? If they were not there at all, what harm is there in saying that men might perhaps be happier?
Sulochana: Very well. Let us drop that subject altogether. But my lord, one thing led to another, and so I ask you something else. Do not laugh that I have changed the topic! Since you are now Commander-in-Chief, a doubt has arisen: is it true that there are military prisons even in the army? They say very harsh punishments are meted out there. You should show some clemency, you know.
Vallabh: That is true. But dangerous offenders such as thieves, robbers, and cruel persons must certainly be immediately fettered.
Sulochana: But such demonic, brutal, and vile persons are the only ones to be fettered, are they not? Not good people, just because you take a fancy to it?
Vallabh: Nonsense! How could such injustice occur! Only wicked wrongdoers are fettered.
Sulochana: Then, my beloved, you tell me: seeing that men, too, shackle only the wicked and evil-doers, and not the virtuous; seeing that God, if superior to man, must be even more just—it is surely impossible for Him to be less just; and seeing that you yourself say God has placed women as fetters on men’s feet—does it not follow that men must have been inveterate sinners in a former birth? Else, God would not have placed these fetters on their feet! You yourself just now outlined the rules for whose feet are to be shackled! If men are ready to adorn themselves with a garland upon garland of such epithets—thieves, robbers, wicked, evil-doers, criminals, sinners, aggressors—then we women are also prepared to be called the fetters placed by God upon the feet of such sinners; understood? Fetters, then, let them be fetters. We women are the chains that tame men, like wild elephants of ungoverned, savage nature. It is because we exist that their steps fall rightly upon the path of dharma. Were these fetters absent, these men would gallop unrestrained upon wrong paths, like maddened horses! Have I not won? Oh, oh! The illustrious and valorous Commander of the Shākyas, in the end, has been conquered by a woman!
Vallabh: It is an auspicious sign! On the very anniversary of the day our seed of love began to grow, my consort experiences the longings for a conquest of the quarters (digvijaya); my son will truly become a universal emperor (chakravartī)!
Sulochana: Tut-tut. The matter returns to its original state.
Maidservant: (Entering) Forgive this intrusion upon your solitude. But the Royal Assembly has sent an urgent summons for General Vallabhsingh for a matter of extreme urgency! A messenger awaits outside.
Vallabh: My dear, I must indeed go. That wicked and ambitious King Vidyutgarbha of Kausal had harboured a desire to pick a quarrel with our Shākya nation. However, word came yesterday that he has finally decided to form a treaty of friendship. An important discussion on this must be due. So, bid me farewell.
Sulochana: But wait for a moment! We were to perform Kāmadeva's worship. This garland is nearing completion. Today…
Vallabh: Do you see! Women are indeed fetters upon the feet of duty.
Sulochana: (Placing her hand over his mouth) Enough of that. You should go properly! This is merely a ruse of men to provoke us to contention and achieve their ends. But women are not born criminals, nor men born judges, to have their conduct scrutinised at every turn. Whether woman is a fetter upon duty or its fulfilment will be seen when an equally important occasion arises.
Vallabh: Then for a moment, consider this to be that important occasion, and bid me a smiling farewell.
Sulochana: I shall not bid you a smiling farewell today. Else you will delay your return as much as you please. I shall not give you a smiling farewell; but if you return swiftly after the assembly, in time for the worship, then I shall certainly greet you with a smile, my beloved!
Vallabh: Truly? Then, as soon as my task is done, behold, I shall return swiftly!
Sulochana: Come, or do not come. We shall say naught. How this board for soṅgaṭyā (a dice game) was laid out. I thought we might play a game today! For we have taken a vow of silence.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Mañjula Rasanā
Chāl: Mañjula Rasanā Original:
जा जा न वचना । बोला । थांबवीत कोणी न आपणा ।। ध्रु.।।
कसा पट मांडिला । लव जरी खेळता या पला । त्यात थोरपण उरतेची ना ।। १ ।। Translation:
Go, go, say nothing. Speak. None shall stop you.
(Chorus)
How the board was set. If you play even a moment,
No greatness then remains.
Shākambhaṭa: This is nothing short of a rebellion of Buddha that has crept into our capital, into Kapilavastu! It seems he intends to lay this capital waste! When his son first set foot in the capital, his aged father, our King Śuddhodana, passed away. It was at least fortunate that, though a sanyāsī bhikkhu, Buddha did at least cradle his father in his lap! And immediately thereafter, he ploughed over the royal lineage; he himself was a bhikkhu śramaṇa (ascetic), and he made even the eight- or nine-year-old Prince Rāhula a bhikkhu. Devadatta, Ānanda, and his other brothers were all initiated into the bhikkhu-dharma (Buddhist monastic discipline)! Not only that, but this illustrious person—nay, this revered bhikkhu—granted sanyāsa to General Vikramadeva, whose sword had protected this Shākya republic from the wrath and greed of powerful kings like Kausal and Magadha. How did that General Vikramadeva, abandoning his young son, the infant Vallabhadeva, become a sanyāsī and a bhikkhu then? It is beyond comprehension. There is no doubt that Buddha possesses some marvellous power of attraction. Who is it? Tākaṁsiṁha.
Tākaṁsiṁha: (Entering) Shākambhaṭa, now truly this Buddha-mania has reached its peak! Do you hear this? Previously, he initiated his Yashodharā and his mother Mahāprajāpatī—those two royal ladies—into śramaṇatva (asceticism), sanyāsa, and bhikkhuṇī-hood (nunhood). Ah, he made those royal ladies assume the guise of sanyāsīs, truly! He had their heads shaven, gave them saffron or yellow robes of the ascetic colour, and turned them into bhikkhuṇīs! But now, they say, Lord Buddha has begun indiscriminately admitting any woman into the sangha (monastic order) as a bhikkhuṇī.
Shākambhaṭa: And this horde of bhikkhuṇīs, of female ascetics, will dwell with these bhikkhus, these sanyāsīs, in the monasteries and travel together through towns and villages, eh? Done! Clap hands! Ah, when Prince Siddhārtha—the Buddha of today—abandoned Yashodharā, I, and that 'Ag' of ours, she was alive then! She and I had clearly foretold that after a few days of wandering and changing his ways, this fellow would return to seek Yashodharā in one form or another! Not just Yashodharā, but he would establish a 'bhikkhuṇī-quarter' just as there is a 'queen's quarter'! See, it has literally come true. Ah! I truly am a soothsayer; I honestly feel it myself now! Is it for naught that people place such faith in the efficacy of my amulets, charms, and threads? Tākaṁsiṁha, you are a Shākya kṣatriya (warrior caste), of Buddha's own caste. Why do you not also become a bhikkhu and join them? What have you, after all, just like me—no home, no door! No wealth, no wife!
Tākaṁsiṁha: Until today, I feared that bhikkhu-sangha. I thought a bhikkhu was one who begs for alms! One whose days suffer a famine of gold and nights a famine of women; one who possesses neither heavenly wealth nor womanly wealth. The image of some impoverished, emaciated beggar, utterly destitute, wandering from door to door, used to rise before my eyes whenever 'bhikkhu' was mentioned. But now I see the grandeur of royalty on one side; and the grandeur of bhikkuhood on the other. Even the most ordinary bhikkhu among them appears happier than I, well-fed and well-provided for.
Shākambhaṭa: And now, since beautiful flocks of female disciples will be nurtured in those monasteries, these folks will be happier not only well-fed and well-provided for, but even upon rising from sleep, more so than widowers like you and me who have no hope of a second marriage! Ah, let alone widowers. But even if that wife of ours were alive now, her brother-in-law would have become a sanyāsī and had gone to enjoy the pleasures of worldly life for free, in this very sect!
Tākaṁsiṁha: Ah, for you Brāhmaṇas (priestly caste), becoming a bhikkhu is not so difficult. For alms are your original initiation! But we Kṣatriyas, who have enjoyed royal splendour, must naturally feel some shame in adopting this path of begging!
Shākambhaṭa: It is for this reason, I believe, that this sect was founded by Siddhārtha, a Kṣatriya who personally enjoyed royal splendour, rather than by some Brāhmaṇa! Oh, you fool, this sect is a veritable elixir of immortality (mṛtyuñjaya mātrā) for Kṣatriyas! Come to Buddhism; for you hear, do you not, Buddha's disciples proclaiming everywhere its glory, that by it, death is averted. Whether this is true for Brāhmaṇas or not, it is absolutely true for Kṣatriyas. For the death of Brāhmaṇas, like that of crows, occurs by chance, whenever it happens. But Kṣatriyas, like snakes, will encounter death at every turn! A Kṣatriya, no sooner does he emerge, will not rest until he has bitten another, and will not escape without being trampled wherever he is seen. That is why Kṣatriyas are now crowding into this Buddha sect, for once they don the veil of sanyāsa and cast off the dhotī (loincloth) of householdership, the kṛpāṇa at their waist falls away of its own accord. This means they need not face battle again. Whether the King of Kausal marches on the Shākya nation or the King of Magadha, Kṣatriyas formerly had to go to war first if they wished to enjoy royal splendour; but now, having taken initiation into the ascetic bhikkhu-hood of this Buddha sect, they are entirely freed from the vexation of accidental death. The enjoyment of wealth is also found in the monasteries! Thus, this twofold convenience has been arranged for you Kṣatriyas. By taking refuge in Buddha, your death is truly averted. It is not for naught that General Vikramsingh also became a bhikkhu in the past! Tākaṁsiṁha, stop! Look, one locust from that swarm of bhikkhus is coming this way! Let us at least listen to the amusing information he has about his sect. Ah, this is merely that one-eyed beggar from the village of Kṛṣipalī; but why give him any recognition!
Tākaṁsiṁha: But he described the denunciation of the Vedas as a distinct feature of that sangha. You are a Brāhmaṇa…
Shākambhaṭa: Ah, the Vedas have not seen my face, nor have I seen theirs. What is denunciation or praise for a person with whom one has not even a speaking acquaintance! Moreover, Tākaṁsiṁha, it is precisely because I am a Brāhmaṇa that I am also sthitaprajña (of steadfast wisdom). Upon the shield of the amulet-like Bhāgavata mantra (sacred verse) 'tulyanindāstutir maunī' (one who is indifferent to blame or praise, and silent), I repel the assaults of criticism that ever come my way, and no one ever dares to bring upon me the peril of praise. Ah, here comes another locust. Let us have a little more sport.
Second Bhikkhu: (Entering) Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi, Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi, Sanghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi. (I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, I take refuge in the Sangha.)
Shākambhaṭa: Stop, stop! Before taking refuge in the sangha, I wish to ask a little about the Dharma. But who is this Buddha, who even rides astride the Dharma? You bhikkhus say Brāhmaṇas exalt themselves in the name of Dharma, but this new teacher establishes his own glory right upon the head of Dharma! First Buddha! First pay obeisance to him, and then poor Dharma! Also, we just saw that the denunciation of Brāhmaṇas is also a tenet of your Dharma.
Second Bhikkhu: Nay! Nay! This is quite mistaken. You are in error.
Shākambhaṭa: Perhaps I may be mistaken. For then I was viewing your Dharma with a single, squinting eye. Therefore, I now desire to behold its true nature through your two-eyed vision, as it were.
Second Bhikkhu: O noble sir, Buddha’s discipline is as cool as moonlight (kaumudī). We are not angered by wrathful rejoinders; rather, we seek to quell that anger with the coolness of our humble words. Lord Buddha not only does not denounce Brāhmaṇas, but he holds them in the highest esteem. Among his chief disciples, many prominent ones are from the Brāhmaṇa caste. The Lord says only this: that a virtuous man who observes the vow of benevolence, is free from ego, and is a brahma-vid (knower of Brahman), is a true Brāhmaṇa. The entire universe will continue to honour him, regardless of his birth. The question is of merit, not of the accidental coincidences of birth. Indeed, even those whom the world reviles as untouchables, the compassionate Lord Buddha draws near with respect—honours them! Then, kim punar brāhmaṇāḥ puṇyāḥ bhaktāḥ rājarṣayastathā! (How much more so the virtuous Brāhmaṇas, devotees, and royal sages!) Buddha’s compassion is as deep as the ocean, as vast as the sky! All humanity, seeking liberation from the three kinds of suffering, declare: Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi, Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi, Sanghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi! (He exits.)
Shākambhaṭa: Alas, he did not even stop for alms.
Tākaṁsiṁha: And how profound his thoughts! What leaf are you and I of such a sangha?
Shākambhaṭa: Why so? Come, let us both ponder deeply right now. Let us analyse the benefits of joining this sangha. What is it? Firstly, they say that by joining this sangha, rebirth is averted. We have no concern whatsoever for that. For this birth has already come and gone. And there is no fear of another birth, at least not in this lifetime. What else?
Tākaṁsiṁha: Death is averted! That, however, is an astonishing benefit, is it not?
Shākambhaṭa: Indeed. Kṣatriyas have truly found this escape route from the clutches of death in battle! But does anyone, upon joining this sangha, escape the death that comes in bed? Furthermore, whose death is averted? Only yours and mine, or also that of our enemies? If the death of all humanity, like mine, is averted, then what is so bad about death? I shall become immortal! My enemy will also become immortal! That means our quarrels, fears, jealousies, and fights! This entire host of troubles will also become immortal! Furthermore, consider this: averting death means living forever. But along with that, one needs food and drink! Merely averting death is of no use. Famine, poverty, and toil must also be averted. Yet, even then, it is a dilemma. Alas, if everyone born were to become immortal, there would not even be enough space in this world to live! You and I, our sons, grandsons, great-grandsons, their children, daughters-in-law, their children, daughters-in-law—seventy generations of ancestors, not merely seven, would sit together to dine in one house. Tākaṁsiṁha, clap hands! Their cooking—the great-great-great-grandmother of the seventieth generation would be sitting and cooking as the esteemed mother-in-law! And playing behind her as a child of the house, the great-great-great-granddaughter—I am breathless. Good heavens! Alas, for such a family, mere terms of relation would scarcely suffice. Names would not suffice to call them by, let alone providing food and clothing. Nonsense! If Buddha has truly discovered a way for all humanity to avert death, then consider it that the death of all humanity has occurred. And if death is averted, then the funeral pyre providers, these sellers of wood for cremations, can be considered utterly ruined! Their business would collapse. They would not even sell enough wood to burn themselves. See how clearly these flaws in Buddha's Dharma are visible to me! Stop, shall I found a Dharma myself? Shall I become an Anti-Buddha? Tut-tut, are my thoughts not becoming too grave?
Tākaṁsiṁha: That is why I say, drop that subject. Such a strain is being placed upon my brain that my brain-matter might rupture, bringing upon me today the death that was to be averted tomorrow by joining the Buddha sect. So, we are not going to join that sangha then?
Shākambhaṭa: Nay, nay, why so? For our main aim is not to avert death, but how to live in luxury until death. And upon becoming a bhikkhu and joining the Buddha sangha, there is abundant food, abundant alms, abundant bhikkhuṇīs, and absolutely no toil. One must secure one's livelihood somehow, must one not? And today, this new path of renunciation (nivṛtti) achieves it more effectively than the old path of worldly engagement (pravṛtti). What is pravṛtti? What is nivṛtti? In both, there is still 'वृत्ति' (livelihood). We Brāhmaṇa mendicants practiced pravṛtti, that is, we would openly stretch out our hands and ask for dakṣiṇā (offering); whereas these Buddha bhikkhus practice nivṛtti, that is, saying, "Oh no, no, this worldly life," they withdraw, stretch out their hands, and ask for alms. Thus, livelihood is secured either way! Come, we shall certainly join that sangha.
Tākaṁsiṁha: I shall come too. Once one becomes a bhikkhu, there will be no fear whatsoever of being pressed into service by Yama-rāja (the god of death) as a Kṣatriya in constant battles!
Shākambhaṭa: Come then, say, "Buddhaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi, Dhammaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi," Oh, wait, but Tākaṁsiṁha, is the news you brought, that Buddha has begun admitting bhikkhuṇīs into the sangha, truly correct?
Tākaṁsiṁha: Alas, I swear by the memory of my deceased wife that this news is true. Else, do you think I am some thoughtless householder who would be so eagerly prepared to become a bhikkhu!
Shākambhaṭa: Then utter that remaining vow too: "Sanghaṁ saraṇaṁ gacchāmi."
Scene 4
(General Vallabhsingh enters, saluting Emperor Mahanama.)
Vallabh: Victory to His Majesty Mahanama and to the Shākya Prajaka (republic)!
Mahanama: Come, General. A calamity of such magnitude has suddenly descended upon our Shākya nation as you can scarce imagine! This missive proclaims that Vidyutgarbha, the King of Kosala, who until yesterday offered us false assurances of a treaty of friendship, thereby lulling us into a slumber of delusion, has now suddenly assaulted the Shākya nation from two or three directions, advancing like a storm! Approximately forty years ago, King Shuddhodana, the sovereign of this Shākya nation, passed away. His son, Siddhārtha, Bhagavān Buddha, had already become an ascetic even before that. Not only that, but his son Rāhula, his brother Ānanda, his cousin Devadatta, his wife Yashodharā, the Queen Mother, noble chieftains from wealthy clans, and valiant warriors were also initiated into the renunciant Bhikshudharma (monastic dharma), and Buddha led them into his Sangha (monastic community). But the gravest detriment to this Shākya nation was caused by the renunciation of General Vikramsīnh, who, at the fervent insistence of Buddha, laid down the sword of worldly life and embraced the Kaupīna (loincloth of an ascetic) of an ascetic! For Buddha had vowed that if all nations would of their own accord lay down their swords, their weapons, and if all would deem the cruel act of bearing arms as a sin to be repudiated, then war would be eradicated from the face of the earth, and a reign of peace and compassion would prevail everywhere, even within the lifetime of this very generation! Dazzled by this divine spectacle, every active man in this Shākya nation, like Buddha himself, embraced asceticism. This capital became shorn of valour. Valour came to be regarded as sin. The power of enforcement was disdained as an excess! In such a state, our republic, this Prajakasabhā (assembly of the republic), seated us upon the throne of King Shuddhodana. But we too had become disciples of Bhagavān Buddha. Consequently, the strength of arms has been shamefully neglected for forty years! And now we are reaping the bitter fruit of that very neglect.
Vallabh: Fear not, O Shākyas! Even in this war of arms initiated by the foe, we can yet vanquish him. Firstly, let us all entrust the supreme authority of the Shākyas for the duration of this war to some man in whom the Shākya nation reposes the utmost faith in his valour and integrity. For in times of war, it is most advantageous for national power to be singular in hand, singular in centre, and singular in voice, rather than a discordant multiplicity. Therein shall our scattered strengths now unite, and that consolidated might shall yet prove preponderant against the foe. A man whose word the entire Shākya nation shall itself deem as Nirbandhavat (as law).
A Chieftain: Verily, such a man, by our good fortune, yet lives amongst the Shākyas. One at the edge of whose Khadga (sword) even this very Kosala army has trembled, and at whose mere summons this Shākya nation, infused with the ardour of self-reliance, can even today leap into battle—such a man, such a singular man, yet lives! But alas, alas, he has become an ascetic! His name? The aged father of our young General Vallabh, the Pitāmaha Bhīshma of our Shākya nation – our former General Vikramsīnh!
Mahanama: I hold full hope that that very valiant man will yet deliver us from our nation's dire straits. Behold! That is the Khadga of our former General! I still distinctly remember the day General Vikramsīnh, though he deemed weapons to be as supremely sacred and as essential a means for the sustenance of the people as Shāstra (scripture/knowledge), nonetheless laid down that Khadga for the earnest insistence of Bhagavān Buddha and accepted the renounced Bhikshu's vow. From that day, this Shākya Rāstrasabhā (national assembly) has revered that Khadga in this hall like a deity, to commemorate its gratitude. By the aid of this Khadga, Vikramsīnh had scattered our national enemies ten times over! This Khadga is the incarnate inspiration of our nation. I say, O Sāmant (feudal lord) and Sabhyaho (honourable members), in this perilous hour, let us appoint General Vikramsīnh as our Sarvādhikārī (supreme commander), and the message we dispatch to recall him should be sent through the hands of this very Dūta (messenger)! No human tongue can express our Hṛdgat (heartfelt sentiment) in such eloquent terms as this iron tongue of the Khadga can convey it in its poignant voice. To General Vikramsīnh, the language of this Khadga’s iron tongue will surely seem more familiar, authentic, indispensable, and revered. It is for this very reason that we shall now dispatch this Khadga to him, along with a Rājamudrānkit (royal seal-affixed) invitation, as our messenger! He is an ascetic; he will most probably not touch weapons. Alas, alas, though all this be true, yet he will surely not fail to render some aid. If he but delivers an inspiring message to the Shākyas, and says, "Fight!" then that one word, issuing from his lips, shall make the power of our national Tūṇīra (quiver) unconquerable, like a divine Brahmāstra (divine, irresistible weapon)! The blessings of Bhagavān Buddha and the command, guidance, troops, and leadership of Vikramsīnh—even such indirect assistance must be afforded to the Shākya nation by this Shākya Dhurandhara (leader/pillar) at this time! And it shall be. For they are both offspring of this very Shākya nation. They have suckled her milk from the bosom of this very Bhūmātā (Mother Earth). They must surely possess gratitude for their mother's milk. Furthermore, one reason for this fearsome assault upon the Shākya nation is that Vidyutgarbha, being an implacable foe of Buddha, envies the very lineage of Buddha and desires to lay it waste! Who is it? Messenger, what is it?
Dūta: (Entering) Forgive me, Your Majesty? Four Yojanās (ancient unit of distance) hence from the capital, great confusion reigns in our main Senāshivira (military camp). Vidyutgarbha's army has occupied half the kingdom and is swiftly advancing. Whosoever Shākya comes their way, Kosala soldiers are mercilessly cutting them down. Many villages are burning to the ground. Women and children are being indiscriminately subjected to Shākā (slaughter). There is great lamentation. Throngs of terrified people are fleeing for their lives towards the capital. Upon hearing these dreadful tidings, the courage of this military camp failed. When we recently went to villages for recruiting for the army, people openly condemned us, saying it is a sin to fight, that we shall not bear arms, and that the occupation of a soldier and that of a butcher are equally contemptible. Yet, those who, with great difficulty, joined the army were all faint-hearted. Upon hearing these horrific reports, when they were commanded to advance, they openly broke ranks and retreated from the military camp. When we tried to push them forward, a great uproar ensued. If order is not restored this very day...
Vallabh: Not this very day, but this very Ghaṭakes (instant)! Come, I shall proceed thither with this advancing force. Your Majesty, in our Nagaragṛha (city hall), in that Santhāgāra (assembly hall) of ours, let the Sankata Ghanṭā (alarm bell) sound! Summon all citizens, appoint a Sarvādhikārī (supreme commander), make them fully aware of the Rāshtrīya Sankata (national crisis), and raise a Nāgarik Senya (citizen army). Until General Vikramsīnh's message arrives, I shall organise the army and continue to confront the foe. Our endeavour; success to God! Men and women, householders and ascetics, all who are of the Shākya seed, take up arms! This is the oath of this Shākya race, of this Prajaka — of this nation! Arise! I go now. I am the son of the renowned former General Vikramsīnh of the Shākya nation; I am the present General of the Shākya nation! I shall make the foe realise this henceforward, then only shall I bear the name Vallabhsingh!
(He exits.)
([Curtain])
Scene 5
(As she strings a garland, Sulochana hums the following song:)
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Māḷ Gumphitānā
Chāl: Paḍalā Abhimanyu
Original:
माळ गुंफिताना । ऐका कवनाला । गुंफी कोण कशी माला ।। १ ।।
घाली जगदंबा । त्रिगुणातीताला । त्रिगुणी बिल्वदली माला ।। २ ।।
गुंफी प्रकृति देवा । विराटासी । नव नव सूर्यमालिकांसी ।। ३ ।।
प्रलयंकर काली । गुंफि महाकाला । ती नरमुंडचुंड माला ।। ४ ।।
उद्भवा घाली । घाली उद्भवाला । सृष्टि भूकंपांची माला ।। ५ ।।
गुंफि सत्यभामा । श्री हरिला साची । माला पारिजातकांची ।। ६ ।।
माळ मोत्यांची । गुंफी रुचिरा ती । राणी राजाच्यासाठी ।। ७ ।।
फुलांची माळा । माळा ओवि रती । आलिंगि त्या अनंगा ती ।। ८ ।।
विरहिणी परि ती । प्रिय स्मरण काला । ओवी अश्रूंची माला ।। ९ ।।
Translation:
As a garland is strung, attend, O poetic soul, how each its own wreath doth twine!
Jagadambā offers to the Transcendent One, a garland of three-leaved bilva.
Prakṛti twines for the Virāṭa deva, necklaces of suns, ever new.
In the hour of dissolution, for Mahākāla, she doth weave a garland of human skulls.
To Uddbhava, she offers, to Uddbhava, a garland of quaking earths.
Satyabhāmā, true of heart, for Shrī Hari doth string a garland of pārijāta blooms.
A garland of pearls, she gracefully strings, the queen for her king.
A garland of flowers, Ratī doth weave, embracing with it Ananga.
And the yearning woman, in memory of her beloved, weaves a garland of tears.
Sulochana: Why has he not come yet, I wonder! He departed saying he would return anon. When he left, I purposely refrained from smiling in farewell. I came smiling to the fore only to touch his heart with a mere drop of honey, that the pang of my pique might remain with my beloved, and he might return swiftly.
(She sings again:)
Sulochana: What is this, still no sign of him! My varamāḷ (wedding garland) is fully strung. Yet, he comes not! Go then, come not! He is to be a commander now, is he not? The first sign of men attaining some authority is that they find no time to converse with their wives at home. Why do they not frankly state, "See here, I am now a great and venerable personage; conversing with mere women of the household is beneath my dignity." But this fault is the women's own. Why do they approach like clamouring women for conversation? I, for one, shall certainly not go forth smiling as I promised, when His Honour arrives today. Yet, perhaps I should go forth. My beloved will return weary and fatigued. If he sees me not at once, his mind will be troubled. So, I should go forth smiling, and that will suffice. But I must not speak for a good ghaṭikā (unit of time)!
(She examines the garland carefully.)
Sulochana: Nay, dear, not speaking for a ghaṭikā is not good. For the hour of worship is already upon us; whence would a ghaṭikā remain even for silence! Let me but appear engrossed for ten or five moments in arranging these gold bowls and instruments for worship. I shall not even glance his way.
(She pauses briefly.)
Sulochana: Oh, good heavens, if anyone knew, people would laugh at me! Am I playing these games with myself, like girls in petticoats who speak to themselves and make up and break off friendships? My beloved calls me quite porsavada (childlike), and it is not untrue. But I say, in happiness, in union, even if I grow impatient for our meeting, if I smile or sulk like a porsavada girl; yet, in sorrow, in peril, in grave moments, if I stand firm and fearless like a Vidulā, like a woman commander of a queenly state, facing the situation with dignity—then is it not so! Then will this porsavada girl not prove truly thorsavada (mature/noble)! Such a noble girl whom even dignitaries like my beloved would choose and bring home through a svayaṃvara (self-choice marriage ceremony)—
(She looks in a mirror.)
Sulochana: —truly a generaless of the Shakyas!
Daasi: (Entering.)
Daasi: Mistress, a horseman from the commander's retinue has arrived outside, he—
Sulochana: Not "he," say "they"! Oh, I know full well that the commander himself has come. But I am being deceived, that by coaxing me outside, they might forcibly obtain from me the honour of going forth to meet him, or that some soldier has brought a message.
Daasi: Truly! Mistress—
Sulochana: You rogue! Taking my wages, do you join my enemies who seek to deceive me!
(She strikes her with a lotus stalk.)
Sulochana: It is the commander himself who has come. Go, tell him that the time for his arrival is not yet. He should come after a little more delay.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Samayī Sakhā Na Ye
Chāl: Na Payām Ātā Hai
Original:
समयी सखा न ये । मी जात फसुनी आता गे ।
बघत वाट थकले । मी दारि बसुनि आता गे ।। ध्रु.।।
मानि या आता गोडी गुलाबी पुन्हा ।
सख्याशी मांडिले मी युद्ध रुसुनि आता गे ।। १ ।।
आलिगनाचा । फेकीने कसुनि आता गे ।। २ ।। गांठ होतांचि या । शत्रुकंठी पाश हा ।
दूति जा सांग । आलात जा तसेची ।
प्रिया रडवीनची । मी हसुनि हसुनि आता गे ।। ३ ।।
Translation:
My beloved comes not in time, I am now quite deceived, O friend.
Weary am I from watching the path, seated at the door, O friend.
(Chorus)
Deem this now as sweet love anew.
With my beloved, I have waged war in my pique, O friend.
Of his embrace, I shall cast away the charm now. As soon as we meet, this noose shall be about the enemy's neck.
Go, O messenger, tell him, "As you came, so now depart."
My beloved, I shall surely make weep, by smiling, by smiling, O friend.
Daasi: I swear! Swāminī (mistress), it is not the commander. News of an urgent peril arrived, and he left the capital at once for the military encampment. As he rode away on his galloping horse, he told this soldier just this much: "I shall return in two or four days; at the very least, I shall dispatch a detailed account. Go, tell this at home." He is right there at the door.
Sulochana: What is it you say?
(Bells clang.)
Sulochana: And what is this? The alarm bell of the Santhāgāra (assembly hall) in our capital! What peril is this? Where is that horseman? Oh, just now, in jest, I addressed my beloved, saying, "He should come after a little more delay"—and see how the word and the flower met! Why did I, in my pique, utter such an inauspicious phrase! Oh, when he left today, I did not even speak properly with him, merely joking.
(The bells clang again.)
Sulochana: Come, come! Has that accursed Vidyudgarbha of Kosala not wrought some mischief?
Scene 6
(Buddha, Senapati Vikramsingh (Bhikshu Vikram), and other bhikshus are seated.)
Vikram: At last, the fear I harboured forty years ago has proven true! By compassion alone, wickedness; by pity alone, wrath; by non-violence alone, murder; by scripture alone, weapons are not eternally and universally subdued, conquered, or annihilated! Has not this stark truth been brought before our very eyes? Bhagawan, to free mankind from birth, illness, old age, and death, if anyone among men has made the supreme sacrifice, performed severe austerities, and borne immense solicitude, it is you, O Tathagata (one who has thus come), Bhagawan Buddha. The noble path you revealed for the utter annihilation of the threefold miseries (trividha tāpa), and the philosophical conclusion you reached that man attains liberation from the cycle of rebirth through the destruction of craving (tṛṣṇānāśa) – even those materialists who do not believe in these tenets or in your transcendental form of liberation will commend your nature for this much, and remain gratefully indebted, that at least in this life, in this existence, to be bodily free from these four calamities of birth, illness, old age, and death, to be literally completely free, is not within man's power; this much you have certainly proven! However sorrowful it may be, the bound or the enlightened, while possessing a body in this world, must needs remain here, and while in this world, in a physical sense, all mankind, be they bound or liberated in a transcendental sense, must face these four mental and physical afflictions (ādhivyādhi)—this stark truth no human hope shall again dare to call into question. You exerted man's efforts to the very utmost, and before the forces of nature, man's strivings yielded. This, too, was no small gain. Such a defeat is also a partial victory. He who is brave enough to face what is deemed inevitable does not flounder in the tears of his childish desires but braces himself, ready for the fray. Now, if in this physical existence we must face these four foes – birth, illness, old age, and death – then mankind must adopt a strategy of warfare that ensures the least harm and the greatest benefit for one's own side in the struggle against these physical forces. In my opinion, that strategy is Karma Yoga (Karmayoga – path of action), which entails performing all worldly duties properly for the greatest happiness of mankind, or, if you prefer, for the minimization of its sorrow. In your view, Karma Sanyasa (Karmasaṅnyāsa – path of renunciation), the ultimate renunciation of all three – Kāmini (women/desire), Krishi (agriculture), and Kṛpāṇa (weapon) – is the best path to live until death. But has it not now been proven by experience that among these three renunciations, the vow of ultimate weapon-renunciation, at least, is exceedingly detrimental to public welfare? For your lofty teaching of weapon-renunciation will be observed only by the virtuous. Accordingly, they will seek to live solely on the foundations of compassion, non-violence, and forgiveness; while primarily, the wicked and evil will spurn your counsel and seek to dominate by weapon, might, and force. In such contests, the flimsy shield of scripture pages will be crushed by the blows of solid steel, inevitably leading to the destruction of the virtuous and the triumph of the sinful; behold, this prophecy I made forty years ago is coming true today. I do not say this with joy; I say it with profound sorrow. To disprove this inauspicious prediction of mine, against my own inclination, I renounced arms as you bade me and meticulously followed the bhikshu dharma (monastic discipline) according to your command. But ultimately, instead of wars disappearing from a peaceful world, peace itself is on the verge of vanishing from this world amidst the tumult of war. On one side, King Bimbisara of Magadha became your disciple, a devotee of forgiveness and non-violence; but his own son, Ajatashatru, became your adversary; he rebelled against his father and, having slain him, now sits enthroned upon our very bosoms. No sooner had this news from Magadha become old than the news from Kosala arrived, that Vidudabha (Vidhyadgarbha) also pushed his father to the brink of death and seized the royal fortune. That father, King Prasenajit of Kosala, was also your disciple, a follower of your compassion, peace, and non-violence! But your teachings had not the slightest effect on his own son, this Vidudabha, who became your staunch foe! That wicked son rebelled relying on armed force, and that good father, proud of his weapon-renunciation, while fleeing for his life during the rebellion, met his demise. All those virtuous ones who heeded your counsel—King Bimbisara, King Prasenajit, and these Shakyas—were either slain or set upon the path of destruction, while those wicked ones who disregarded your counsel and continued to revere weapons as scripture, prospered. Ultimately, impotent compassion was overcome by wrath; the life of feeble pity was taken by wickedness.
Buddha: Bhikshu Vikramsingh! Is it your contention that this monastic order (Sangha) of mine has accomplished nothing for the welfare of the people thus far?
Vikram: Bhagawan, not only this monastic order, but also the sanyasa (renunciate) ashram (stage of life) has conferred immeasurable benefits upon all beings. Indeed, the words spoken by a sanyasi in the forest, having renounced all attachments, have become the scripture of humanity. The saying, 'Dharma (righteous duty) is the foundation of the universe,' is a truth. But neither will this statement be entirely untrue: 'Sanyasa is the foundation of Dharma.' This sanyasa ashram has become as revered as heaven by the touch of such great souls. Taking the example of your own order—indeed, of yourself—for forty years, Bhagawan, through the cool ambrosia of your extremely simple, straightforward, and compassionate religious teachings, the anguish of thousands of beings has been quelled. You proved the futility of sacrifices, thereby saving the lives of hundreds of useful creatures; you dismantled the imaginary tyranny of gods and goddesses, establishing right conduct and public love as the true means of Dharma. Your bhikshus travel from village to village, tending to the sick, assisting the distressed, admonishing against mutual envy, urging mutual compassion, advocating forgiveness of transgressions, and delivering this cool message of contentment to every home. These services of yours, O compassionate Lord, the world can never repay. Yet, even with forty years of the most intense and pure efforts from great souls such as yourself, the truth that 'neglecting armed strength is harmful' has not been disproven. But this apparent failure, at first glance, is actually the successful outcome of those very efforts.
Ananda: (Entering) Buddham saranam gacchāmi (I take refuge in the Buddha), Dhammam saranam gacchāmi (I take refuge in the Dharma), Sangham saranam gacchāmi. Bhagawan! The direct royal representative of the Shakya republic has come to meet Tathagata Buddha and Bhikshuvar Vikram, bearing the most sorrowful news: King Vidudabha of Kosala has suddenly attacked the unwary Shakya people, utterly devastating them.
Vikram: What! So it has come to this at last! Ananda! Go, go, bring that Shakya envoy before Buddha Bhagawan, come! (Ananda exits.) Bhagawan, did you not see? Your excessively non-violent teaching may render some individuals compassionate, but it cannot make all forces so. If this is the state of the world even in your resplendent presence, then there is no need to speak of what will transpire after your avatar passes into nirvana. Cruel-natured asuras (demons) will continue to exist in this world, both as individuals and as nations. This is being practically demonstrated. In theory, even if we assume that we could make an entire generation renounce the world, the countless beings who will be born in future generations will have different accumulated karmas (deeds), and thus their innate tendencies will also differ. Therefore, due to a single teaching, some may become compassionate, while others may not. For those millions of beings will have millions of traditions of mental development. Hence, if they are moved by compassion, well and good; but those wicked ones who cannot be so swayed must be restrained from their malevolent mischief by punishment and force. Just as we consider it true compassion to restrain a rabid dog with a stick, we deem it true dharma to punish one wicked creature for the benefit of the greatest number of virtuous creatures. Non-violence is that which severs the fangs and claws of violence with a weapon!
Shakya Envoy: (Entering) Buddham saranam gacchāmi, Dhammam saranam gacchāmi, Sangham saranam gacchāmi. Bhagawan, the peril that has befallen the Shakya nation is so unbearable, and the message I bring to you is so urgent, that I must convey it all without even awaiting your questions. Senapati (commander of the army) Vikramsingh, the cruel King Vidudabha of Kosala has descended upon the Shakyas like lightning. Our army has been scattered. Only one hero still stands undaunted in battle, holding back Vidudabha—that is, Vikramsingh, your son Vallabhsingh. And in the heart of the dying Shakya nation, there remains but one life-giving hope, one faint flicker of life—that is your aid, O foremost general of the Shakyas, O supreme warrior, O patriarch of the Shakya nation, and the blessings of Bhagawan Buddha! It is our prayer that, though our plea may be inconsistent with the sanyasa ashram adopted by our Vikramsingh, to liberate him in this mortal peril of the Shakya nation, Vikramsingh, you should rush forth like an elephant, considering even the breaking of a vow, like Shri Krishna, as proper in due time for the succour of the distressed. If Vidudabha is not conquered, this Shakya nation will surely perish. And you alone, a warrior, are capable of conquering Vidudabha.
Buddha: Envoy! Convey our message to the Shakya nation that the Tathagata is deeply grieved by your sorrow. However, equal sorrow is felt for the suffering of Vidudabha and his Kosalan army. For while you are scorched in the fire of their persecution and oppression, they are consumed by the fire of wrath and excessive, envious craving. Both are equally important to us. Our discipline is this: both should abandon enmity!
Vikram: But ought not the wicked one who initiated the enmity be the one to abandon it? Tomorrow, on behalf of this seat, shall we send an edict to all tigers in the world: 'From the day after tomorrow, cease your enmity towards cattle!' Even when that command is obeyed by tigers, you will find that the wicked and evil among men are not prepared to abandon enmity! Therefore, such wicked ones must be suppressed by force.
Buddha: But suppression by force is not permanent. Is it not a better way to make the wicked virtuous by dissuading their minds from wickedness?
Vikram: That may be an excellent path in a vacuum of imagination! Just as the nectar of heaven, obtained after death, is excellent for quelling thirst; but to the thirsty souls of this craving world, a handful of sweet water from a small stream gushing down the village hill offers greater coolness. In poetry, the Kalpavriksha (wish-fulfilling tree) is most excellent; but in actual heat, the humble, ordinary banyan and peepal trees are a hundred times more useful! And secondly, to bring the mind of the wicked into a virtuous state receptive to good counsel, the application of coercive power is often the first effective remedy. Your forty years of experience tell us this: there is a state of wickedness where it does not abandon its evil nature even by the direct commendation of a Buddha. Vidudabha is such a wicked man; therefore, even if his mind cannot be swayed by force, it can certainly be crippled. But mere counsel offers no immediate benefit; it certainly offers no permanent one. If his claws of wrath are clipped, his fangs extracted, then even if he merely lies festering in anger, not truly pacified, this world, at least, will be free from his deadly bloodlust and enjoy fearless peace.
Buddha: Foremost Bhikshu Vikram, I comprehend the essence of your discourse. But we are sanyasis, those who have renounced worldly pursuits, and the sanyasa dharma advocates non-violence. However, as you assert, since extreme non-violence is simply impossible for humans to practice, and since such ill-timed non-violence, when practiced only by the virtuous before powerful wicked and evil men adopt it themselves, can sometimes be as destructive to the people as violence itself—your proposition is incontrovertible, it cannot be denied. Therefore, we henceforth issue this injunction: my householder followers are permitted to bear arms to fight against aggressive enemies in a just war. Hence, the Shakya nation must necessarily bear arms to resist this incurable Vidudabha's tyrannical aggression. The sin of that violence rests not upon those righteous resistors, but upon those tyrannical aggressors; Manyustann manyumṛcchati ("hatred begets hatred"). O Envoy, go and convey this permission of mine to the Shakyas: may my blessings be a support to your asilatā (sword) in this Dharma-yuddha (righteous war)!
Envoy: Bhagawan! The entire Shakya nation is profoundly grateful for your blessings. Now, for the Shakya asilatā which you have bestowed these divine blessings to assist, may Bhagawan also present that asilatā to me, so that this envoy may return to the Shakyas at once! Yes, that asilatā of the Shakyas has lain sheathed at your feet for forty years.
Buddha: The sheathed asilatā of the Shakyas? Where is it? Here?
Envoy: Yes, Bhagawan! Behold, here! The valour residing secretly like a dagger within the bodily sheath of this Shakya Senapati—this is the national asilatā of our Shakyas! Bhagawan, please place it into our hands now. As soon as the war-conch of this sword-wielding Senapati Vikramsingh is blown on the battlefield, even the jackals in the Shakya forests will become lions.
Buddha: Meaning, Bhikshuvar Vikram should draw his sword? A sanyasi should drench his robes in blood and make them saffron? Impossible! Envoy, we are sanyasis, detached, impartial; we shall not become involved in your worldly disputes. To us, you are all alike. How could you even conceive that a sanyasi should draw a weapon and go about slaughtering men, and that we should endorse it? Absolute celibacy and absolute renunciation of arms are the two fundamental vows of a sanyasi bhikshu dharma. How can they be broken?
Vikram: Forgive me! Or do not. But Bhagawan, I must tell you this: if a sanyasi, a detached one, is not to engage in worldly disputes, if we are to treat the just and the unjust as equal, then the greatest transgressor of this injunction of Tathagata Buddha would be Tathagata Buddha himself. Bhagawan, when you were in Rajagriha formerly, a sacrifice was to be performed there where hundreds of lives would be taken. As the herd of sacrificial animals walked along the road, you saw a small lamb limping. Upon seeing it, you were filled with such compassion that you yourself carried the lamb on your shoulders and followed the herd to the royal sacrificial hall, debated with the Brahmins, convinced them that taking lives in sacrifice is a sin, and liberated all the animals, including the lamb. To save one lamb, a hundred animals, from violence, you, the crown jewel of renunciate deeds, engaged in worldly disputes. And here, when hundreds of infant children, hundreds of orphaned maidens, thousands of innocent people are on the verge of losing their lives, you say a sanyasi cannot interfere in worldly disputes! You say that to a sanyasi, both Shakya and Vidudabha are alike. Impartiality is the dharma of a sanyasi! But sanyasi bhikshus peel and eat sugarcane, blow away chaff to eat rice, leave muddy puddles to drink water from good flowing rivers. They put their hands in the udder of a milch cow, but not into a snake's den. Though they eat honey, they do not let nests of poisonous bees cling to their armpits. Thus, we recognize good and evil.
Buddha: Then, in such a situation, what do you think a sanyasi should do?
Vikram: What should be done? Before the tiger seizing the cow's neck in its jaws, not a single anuṣṭup (a poetic metre) of the Dhammapada should be chanted, for before that anuṣṭup is complete, the tiger will have already torn the cow's throat and gulped its blood! With one swift stroke, the tiger's head should be severed with a sword! Similarly, a true sanyasi, if necessary, must immediately advance against the army of this wicked Vidudabha with more resolve than any other worldly soldier and kill him. And the lives of thousands of innocent Shakya women and children must be saved. If allowing animal sacrifice to continue for the delusion of attaining heaven is cruelty for a renunciate bhikshu, then would not allowing this human slaughter to continue for the folly of non-violence be a hundred times more cruel, and indeed stain the sanyasi's reputation? Bhagawan, permit me to descend into battle. I still possess the strength to punish the wicked. At the very least, I shall cripple his future cruelty. I shall certainly prevent further grievous violence against the innocent. Nay, perhaps the Shakya nation may yet achieve victory over this tyranny!
Buddha: What then? Today Vidudabha is conquering the Shakyas. Tomorrow the Shakyas will conquer them. What then? By victory, that enmity will simply continue! He who is defeated will remain sorrowful. Therefore, he who is truly renunciate, truly pacified and tranquil, leaving aside both victory and defeat, sleeps peacefully: “Jayō Vaira Prasuati Dukhe Sete Parājitah. Upasantaḥ Sukhe Sete Hitvā Jayaparājayam.” Translation:
"Victory breeds enmity; the defeated sleeps in sorrow.
The pacified sleeps in peace, having abandoned victory and defeat."
Vikram: Alas, alas! What is this I hear! Bhagawan, when you yourself felt that you had reached Nirvana, did you then continue to lead this body for public welfare, merely out of compassion upon seeing the suffering world, and on the basis of this utterance? Sukhe Sete (sleeps peacefully) – is merely sleeping peacefully the main virtue of a sanyasi? Then you should have long since slept in Nirvana, you should have abandoned your body. If Sukhe Sete implies a figurative meaning for you, then that steadfastness (sthitaprajñatā), that internal renunciation of the fruits of action, is possible in wielding a weapon just as it is in renouncing it. Does not a sanyasi take up a needle to remove a thorn? Then why should he not take up a sword to remove the thorn of evil? If someone ten kos (ancient unit of distance) away suffers a broken thorn, does your heart not ache, and when you go to give them medicine, is your sleep not disturbed, not just figuratively or theoretically, but literally? You say victory breeds enmity, and the defeated unjust one is sorrowful; that is true to some extent. But to avoid the sorrow of defeat for an unjust person, should justice be defeated? Should householders be forced to leave their doors open so that a thief does not experience the sorrow of his theft failing? Or should that sorrow of defeat be considered preferable for the wicked as a punishment for their unjust deeds? It is indeed bad that unjust aggressors experience the sorrow of defeat; but if the rampant injustice of the wicked is allowed to continue, what of the entire human race, tormented and sorrowful by the persecution of innocent virtuous people? That is a thousand times worse! Furthermore, the retribution of punishment that the wicked receive is what first instills fear and curbs their propensity to do evil. And once thus crippled, that evil can be destroyed by good counsel or by habit. The suffering of others is sometimes the indispensable price of the welfare of others. When you left worldly life, how much sorrow Yashodhara experienced; but for the sorrow of your father or wife, you did not return home. When young men or women were initiated into sanyasa and taken into your Sangha, weeping continued in their homes. For this reason, many towns ostracized you and drove you out. Devadatta started a new sect; you opposed him, which made him sorrowful and angry. The enmity grew so much that assassins were sent after you. But you did not accept his sect or disband your Buddha Sangha for the sake of Devadatta's sorrow or to stop that enmity there. Was it not because the sorrow of Devadatta and the growing enmity were indispensable prices for public welfare? If avoiding the suffering of the offender meant keeping millions of innocent people suffering, then why should not the same logic apply to a sanyasi bearing a weapon? When this monster, who did not hesitate to kill his own father for the kingdom, advances with thousands of soldiers against the nation whose food sustains this sanyasi's body daily, at such a time, a sanyasi who, despite believing it possible to slay that monster with a single stroke of the sword, chooses to adjust his blanket rather than wield the sword, so as not to disturb his sleep; who, while millions of women, children, and elders of his nation are being slaughtered, stuffs his ears with rolls of meaningless and destructive vows to avoid having his sleep disturbed by their harsh screams, and 'sleeps peacefully' in deep slumber—a hundred curses upon such a sanyasi! A thousand curses! Sukhe Sete! Is merely sleeping peacefully the goal of a tranquil sanyasi? That may be the goal of pythons, of idlers, of the self-absorbed! Not of sanyasis! Therefore, Bhagawan, command me. Say it, the hourglass of the Shakyas' hope and life has already been turned. So, without delay, say, "Go!" and I shall leap like an eagle, tear apart, break apart, and sever the terrifying coils that the exceedingly fierce serpent of Kosala has wrapped around the Shakyas' lives. Look: but, but let me reach there before the bite. Say, "Go!"
Buddha: Foremost Bhikshu Vikram, it is astonishing that a philosophic renunciate bhikshu such as yourself should become so agitated all at once. Whatever happens, I cannot bid you, the foremost bhikshu of our Sangha, to take up arms in war and fight. The vow of ultimate weapon-renunciation, upon which the very foundation of the Sangha and sanyasa rests, I shall not allow any bhikshu to break.
Vikram: Woe to the nation where this feeble sanyasa dharma is considered the supreme Dharma! What else? Shakya envoys, go and tell the royal assembly that Vikramsingh believes that the vow of extreme weapon-renunciation, taken in shortsightedness, was a mistake, and though it is now clear that it causes immense harm to public welfare, to refuse to rectify that error merely to uphold one's own stubborn resolve is not firm determination but sheer obstinacy. However, due to the absence of Bhagawan Buddha's permission, his condition is like that of a snake bound by a charm. He cannot move beyond such limits. Though eager to draw his sword and enter battle for the protection of the Shakyas, I cannot come to your aid...
Envoy: Ha, ha! Stop for a moment before completing that inauspicious phrase, that cruel verdict, that nation-destroying articulation! You heard the last word of Buddha Deva's will with one ear, but with the other, hear the last word of this afflicted, distressed, dying Shakya nation, and then utter the final word of your decisive sentence! As it is impossible for the tongue of any single individual to express the anguish of the Shakya nation's soul in this dire crisis, its vital struggle, its last hope's final word, this collective tongue of the Shakya people itself shall plead that national sorrow before you! (He removes Vikramsingh's sword and places it before him.)
Vikram: (Startled) What? My sword! My Kṛpāṇa! Forty years have passed since I took sanyasa, when I laid this down! With this sword, I have vanquished enemies twelve times!
Envoy: Senapati, as a monument to those twelve victories, we Shakyas always adorn its hilt with twelve jewels and keep this sword hanging in our royal assembly as our national treasure. Every new Senapati bows to it and accepts his position. This is that sword! The Shakyas have dispatched this sword as our representative to convey our message to you, to plead our request, and to sway your heart. If the Shakya nation is now destined to die, let it at least die resisting bravely; but even that is possible only if you take up this sword and descend into battle instantly! Maharaj, for a moment, bring before your eyes the scene I have witnessed. Behold, entire villages—Amrapalli, Kedanavati, Limbaniya—are ablaze, set alight by the Kosalan armies! See the old men and children being crushed and burned alive beneath collapsing, flaming beams and roofs! The acrid stench of their burning flesh spreads for miles! See hundreds of Kosalan soldiers, shouting "Kill! Strike!", running with naked swords, slashing, looting, and trampling every Shakya they encounter! See, they have ridden their horses over those clusters of women, those children trampled! Those splatters of blood, those severed heads, those screams, that fleeing, that groaning! Maharaj, the Shakya nation is your child. This butcher Vidudabha and his wicked general Chanda are approaching its back with a dagger! That crying, frightened child clings to your waist. Have pity, save it!
Vikram: I shall save it! Let the Shakya sanyasi who can sleep peacefully while his nation faces such devastation do so! I, for one, cannot! Bhagawan, you heard it all, did you not? Then may I not take up this sword?
Buddha: This is entirely contrary to sanyasa dharma, to bhikshu dharma! I wish to say no more than this.
Vikram: Then, without your saying it, behold! I renounce this feeble, nation-destroying, human-welfare-opposing sanyasa dharma itself! Behold! I take up this sword of duty! My Shakya nation! O suffering humanity! For the sake of national dharma, for the sake of human dharma, for the sake of compassion for all beings, as an indispensable means, this sanyasi takes up this weapon. Behold! I take up this weapon in such circumstances that thereby, even if Vidudabha's cruelty is not vanquished, it can certainly be crippled, and I can save thousands of lives. Through the renunciation of arms in the past forty years, I could not achieve as much welfare for the people nor free as many beings from suffering as I shall be able to achieve through bearing this weapon in the coming forty days! I go. Every moment of delay further entangles the Shakyas' neck in the noose of death. Yet, O all creation, you are my witness that I am leaving this sanyasa ashram, crippled by vows that are occasionally detrimental to public welfare; and since that extreme non-violence which leads to the protection of the wicked and the destruction of the virtuous is not dharma but actual adharma (unrighteousness), I abandon it; not Bhagawan Buddha! (He exits.)
Act III
Scene 1
(Vidyudgarbha and the Kosala Commander are present.)
Kosala Commander: Kosaleshvara Vidyudgarbha Maharaj, the success of your expedition against the Shakyas has well-nigh reached its zenith today! That Vallabhsimha, the Shakyas' Commander, has fallen into our hands; what greater honour could there be for the valour of our Kosala nation than this? That Vallabh is, indeed, a truly obstinate warrior! Yesterday, he brought the Kosala army to a dire pass. But the destiny of Maharaj Kosaleshvara is more potent.
Vidyudgarbha: And Kosala Commander, your prowess is more potent, for which reason this Vallabh has fallen into our hands. Now, this opportunity must be exploited with equal sagacity! Behold, these two missives have just now been delivered into my hands by the enemy. The first letter is from that Gautama Buddha. This teacher of the ignorant was wont to stop wars by merely uttering 'chhoomanter' (a magical incantation to make something disappear)! He would render the fangs of lions as soft and pliant as an old woman's gums! He now enjoins me, saying, 'Abandon animosity, lay down your arms.' Forgiveness is more beneficial than the might of the rod. Our father was smitten by the madness of these absurd whims, and for this reason, the might of the Kosala nation became so despised that even our feudatories, like the Shakyas, presumed to defy us. Because Buddha's clan was Shakya, my father considered it a great honour to wed a Shakya maiden and sought her hand. But they presented a mere slave-girl as a Shakya princess to my father. From her, I was born, and by this deception of the Shakyas, the stigma of 'son of a slave-girl' was branded upon my brow for life! The mere remembrance of it sets my blood afire. I shall trample these Shakyas beneath the hooves of Kosala's horses, and Buddha tells me that animosity begets animosity! That by weapons, one only cuts one's own fingers.
Kosala Commander: Our Kosaleshvara is no weak-kneed, Buddhist Shakya, who lacks the might to wield a weapon himself, and hence cuts his own fingers! A lion does not clip its claws merely because they might wound itself, or because doing so would augment the enmity among the beasts of the forest. Maharaj, you have not fallen prey to this Buddhist madness like your father, and because you have kept Kosala's military and armed strength well-equipped, the Kosala nation is a nation today. Otherwise, the same plight that we are now inflicting upon the Shakyas would have been inflicted upon Kosala by the barbarian nations on the border provinces! If a lion of the forest were to clip its claws and fangs upon hearing Buddha's precepts, then tomorrow, monkeys would mount its back and parade about! The deer would hunt it! We shall establish the Kosala empire by digvijaya (world conquest)!
Vidyudgarbha: For this very reason, the answer to this unsolicited letter of counsel is to tear and trample it thus! Now, the second letter; but quite contrary to the first. For this is not from a renunciate devoted to words, but from a renunciate devoted to arms. This is from that Commander Vikramsimha. He had become a bhikshu (Buddhist monk), and it was precisely because of this that the Shakyas became so enfeebled as to fall into our hands. Now he has again taken up arms, become their Commander, and entered the fray, and instantly an extraordinary vigour has ignited among the Shakyas, and by this letter, he commands us to depart from the country! It would be prudent to humour him somewhat.
Kosala Commander: Rather, it would be better to profusely denounce him for breaking his solemn vow of absolute renunciation of arms, and widely publicise this, so that he becomes much dishonoured and disliked among the Shakyas!
Vidyudgarbha: Quite right. Concurrently, we must also pursue our policy of ensuring that Buddha becomes most revered and beloved among the Shakyas. For, as the Shakya nation suffered impoverishment, population decline, and loss of strength by increasingly adhering to the principles of sannyasa-pravana (inclined towards renunciation) Buddhism, so shall it continue to decline and become increasingly feeble. Therefore, addressing the Shakyas, I shall issue a proclamation of the following purport as an indirect answer to this question: that Kosaleshvara holds Sri Gautama Buddha in high esteem. No worldly attachment could sway him from his sannyasa-dharma (path of renunciation). His vow of shastrasannyasa (renunciation of arms), ahimsa (non-violence), and compassion, he kept unbroken even in such trying circumstances. Truly desireless and liberated is one such as he. Even the enemies of the Shakyas hold him in great reverence. But for this very reason, we are deeply saddened that the Shakyas, who gave birth to such a noble soul, have forsaken adherence to him and instead follow that sinful, fallen Vikramsimha, who disobeyed Lord Buddha's command, insulted him, broke his sacred vows of renunciation, and brought disgrace upon his own clan's name. Hence, if the Shakyas, by expelling Vikram, who insulted Lord Buddha, and by jatibahishkrit (excommunicating him from their caste) him as fallen, surrender their capital into our hands within eight days, then we shall not destroy them. Thereupon, not a single drop of blood shall be shed. Otherwise, to punish Vikram, his son, Commander Vallabhsimha, who has fallen into the hands of our victorious army, shall be immediately put to death. We require an answer forthwith.
Kosala Commander: Bravo! Most appropriate. This proclamation should be published here, and this army, held in check by Vikramsimha, should be kept stationed thus. But another army should be dispatched to assault their capital, Kapilavastu, by a circuitous route to launch a secret attack. If the Shakyas surrender, then they can easily be annihilated and utterly wiped out.
Vidyudgarbha: Should the Shakyas fall into this snare of surrender, my stratagem shall succeed with ease. Even if they fight, it shall still succeed. Come what may, my thirst for vengeance, unquenched by the Shakyas' persecutions until now, I shall surely satisfy by seizing the throat of the Shakya capital!
Scene 2
(Nalini and Sulochana)
Sulochana: My friend, what is this I have heard? At last, the Shākya general, my soul's master, my beloved, hath fallen into the hands of the foe! Nalini, that lion among warriors achieved a feat of valour unmatched by any other! He rallied the scattered Shākya army and delivered the first blow, repelling the Kōsala forces that crashed down like sudden lightning; and though he was then encircled by a second enemy detachment, he fought on stubbornly like a maddened elephant. And if he eventually fell into the enemy's hands, it was solely because his nation was weak, not for any failure of his valour.
Song: He was not defeated Chāl: Re kahāṃ jā nisār
Song Details:
Title: He was not defeated
Chāl: Re kahāṃ jā nisār Original:
गे नसे जित पहा । सेनानी । अबल तो । म्हणुनी हा ।। ध्रु. ।।
अबल परी तद्राष्ट्रचि म्हणुनि अपजयी हा ।। १ ।। Translation:
Look, he was not vanquished, our General,
Because he was feeble.
(Chorus)
But because his nation itself was weak, therefore was he vanquished.
Sulochana: Nalini, shall I swell with pride at this heroism of my beloved, or shall I speak words of solace to this heart of mine that doth ache, for my beloved is now parted from me forever? Or shall I, like a tigress blinded by wrath, maddened, leap forth to strike at him who, with the thunderbolt of his might, hath made my beloved a captive of war! Nalini, what tortures will that Kōsala fiend inflict upon my beloved, now that he is caught? Nay, those wretches will speak ill of my general, they will torment him! And at such a time, there will be none with affection to speak even a single word of comfort. Look, Nalini, if my head merely ached, I would come to thee at once, would I not? Nowadays, since taking up the generalship, he bore a heavy strain. And when he found a moment of respite, he would quickly lay his head upon my breast. He would place my hands upon his head and say, 'Look how these soft pillows of thy bosom have absorbed all my weariness! How refreshed my mind now feels, I cannot tell!' Such was his sweet-tongued nature! But now, whose tears of affection shall cool that head, tormented by those cruel ones? Whose words shall relieve his weariness?
Nalini: Foolish one, these are but affectations of brave men, not weaknesses. The tumultuous uproar of the battlefield, with its dreadful cries of death amidst the clangour of war-drums, that alone is the sweet music that banishes the weariness of warriors, not our tender bosoms, we women! To rest their heads on the soft cushions of charming ladies' full breasts is but a fancy for them, not a necessity. My friend, one might bind the foot of a mad elephant with garlands of flowers; but with base greed, we women cannot bind the feet of martyrs to the threshold of domestic life. Though the hue of all worldly pleasures may be reflected therein, the soul of such heroic spirits is as crystal-pure, unattached, selfless, and detached as that of a sthitaprajña (person of steady wisdom)! Behold thy brave beloved! Be not wroth. Here, without thee, he could not bear a moment's idleness, could he? Yet, but the other day, when the trumpet of duty sounded, he instantly cast aside a creeper of beauty such as thee from his embrace, not even returning home for a moment to send a farewell message, but marched straight into the jaws of battle and death, his head held in his hands for the sake of his homeland, for the welfare of the people. What ascetic can be more self-restrained or have more renounced senses than that brave beloved?
Song: What ascetic Chāl: Sumaraṇa torā-
Song Details:
Title: What ascetic
Chāl: Sumaraṇa torā- Original:
संन्यासी कोण । त्या हुतात्म्याहून । निःसंग जितकाम ।। ध्रु.।।
रणशृंग होताच । आलिंगनातूनि रतिच्या उडी घे ।
रणि देवकार्यी सहसा उफाळोन ।। १ ।। Translation:
What ascetic,
More detached or desire-conquering
Than that martyr?
(Chorus)
The war-trumpet sounding,
He leaps from love's embrace,
To surge forth readily for divine work in battle.
Sulochana: Precisely, my friend, therefore, instead of anger that he left us in a moment thus, we should rather feel grateful and blessed that the affection of such selfless heroes of duty rests upon us, if but for a moment; this is indeed the supreme victory for us women. Truly, such sacrificing love, more than passionate love, doth make us women ardent. Therefore, his companion, worthy of such a hero's sacrificing love, shall also conduct herself in this hour of crisis. Nalini, I am the wife of General Vallabha; the daughter-in-law of the nation's patriarch, Vikram; I am the daughter of the Koliyan Kshatriya clan— Nalini, I shall sting the army of that wicked Vidyutgarbha, and if possible, him too, like a serpentess. I shall don soldier's attire and join the Shākya army. Just as the brave Vallabha did not even pause to look back at me when the trumpet of duty sounded, so too I shall not look back, not even for a moment to bid farewell to this domestic life I have set up. See here, the board of dice is laid just as it was; see this garland! My friend, it must be eight days since I was stringing this garland to worship Lord Kāmadeva on the first anniversary of our love's union. I was here coaxing my beloved, and at that time, this board of dice was laid for us to play. Alas, alas! I was coaxing him with love. At that very moment, how was I to know that the fatal noose of Time was being cast around my beloved's neck! Else, I would not have spent that last moment of meeting in childish silence and sulking. I would have played that final game of happiness on the board of domestic life. I go, overturning this board of domestic dice thus.
Song: In seeking for a hundred births Chāl: Ākhoṃne tere gammeṃ
Song Details:
Title: In seeking for a hundred births
Chāl: Ākhoṃne tere gammeṃ Original:
शत जन्म शोधिताना । शत आर्ति व्यर्थ झाल्या ।
शत सूर्य मालिकांच्या । दीपावली विझाल्या ।। ध्रु. ।।
तेव्हां पडे प्रियासी । क्षण एक आज गांठी ।
सुख साधना युगांची । सिद्धीस अंति गाठी ।। १ ।। हा हाय जो न जाई । मिठि घालु मी उठोनी । क्षण तो क्षणांत गेला । सखि हातचा सुटोनी ।। २ ।। Translation:
In seeking for a hundred births,
A hundred yearnings were in vain,
A hundred sun-garlands,
Their festive lights extinguished.
(Chorus)
Then came a moment's tryst,
With my beloved this day,
The quest for ages of joy,
At last attains fruition.
Oh, alas, that moment I could not seize,
To rise and embrace him,
That moment slipped from my hand,
My friend, in an instant it was gone.
Nalini: Hold, hold! My friend, do not despair entirely! How knowest thou that fortune may not yet favour us? Who can say that our Shākya patriarch Vikram, having now entered the battlefield, the Shākyas shall not yet achieve victory over the enemy! That Vallabha shall not be freed—that this unfinished game of love and passion with thy beloved may not be played again after this separation, in a more charming new union! Even more wondrous happy endings have occurred in this world!
Sulochana: And have also not occurred. Is destiny some playwright, ashamed by the money of innocent, wish-seeking spectators, that he must compose all his plays with unnatural twists to end happily?
Nalini: That is true. But one must also listen to what the heart says. Let it be comforted by such hope...
Sulochana: Nonsense! What heart? Look here, until things happen as my heart desires, I have sealed the mouth of this heart of mine with the stamp of discernment. If, and when, my beloved meets me before death, then and only then shall his hand break this seal. For now, tell me not what the heart says, tell me only what duty commands.
Nalini: Vīrāṅgane (heroine), listen then! Duty commands this: that when Vallabha hath fallen into the enemy's hands, when this Shākya race of ours is being pierced by the sword of that tormentor, Vidyutgarbha, we Kshatriya maidens should not weep softly in our inner chambers. Instead, as thou sayest, we should don soldier's attire, take what revenge we can upon the enemy, and, ascending the flames that rise from sword against sword, perform sati (self-immolation) with the cherished memory of our beloved! For—
Song: Not in dead wood and straw-fire Chāl: Maj dyāho jagī āsarā
Song Details:
Title: Not in dead wood and straw-fire
Chāl: Maj dyāho jagī āsarā Original:
मृतकाष्ठ तृणाग्नीत ना । सती जातात वीरांगना ।। ध्रु.।। शस्त्रसंघर्षि घे चेतना । तया रणाग्नीत दारुणा । सूऽडाच्या । जातात वीरांगना ।। १ ।। Translation:
Not in dead wood and straw-fire
Do heroines perform sati.
(Chorus)
But in that dreadful battle-fire,
Kindle by the clash of weapons,
Of vengeance, do heroines go forth.
Sulochana: Then is thy resolve also the same? Look here, my father-in-law, Vikramasiṃha, having renounced saṃnyāsa (renunciation) that is detrimental to public welfare, is now far from the capital, where the Shākya army is fighting. Let us two go there in men's attire, so that none shall easily recognize us. My father-in-law hath never even seen me. Come, look, I have overturned this laid-out board of domestic life, and swiftly lifted that sword. For now, I shall play the game my comrade hath set on the battlefield! My friend, my āchārya (teacher) of the art of love hath taught me the art of war. As I first pleased Lord Kāmadeva, the god of love, so today, with the second, I shall please Lord Kārtikeya, the god of war. I, his devoted pupil, shall pass in both these sciences and make his dual renown resound throughout the world!
Song: As in love's courtyard Chāl: Nannu brūvanī
Song Details:
Title: As in love's courtyard
Chāl: Nannu brūvanī Original:
रति अंगणी । कामदेव जसा। अश्रुसिंचनी अभिषेकिला ।। ध्रु. ।। रणरंगणी रक्त-वर्षे अजी । अर्चीन देवा कार्तिकेया तसा ।। १ ।। Translation:
As in love's courtyard,
Lord Kāmadeva was bathed
In showers of tears.
(Chorus)
So today, in the arena of war,
With a rain of blood, shall I worship
Lord Kārtikeya.
(Bhikshu Shākambhaṭa and a Bhikshuṇī)
Shākambhaṭa: I tell thee truly, what Lord Buddha says, that there is no sorrow like worldly life and no happiness like saṃnyāsa (renunciation), is literally true. At least saṃnyāsa in a wealthy saṅgha (monastic order) like this Buddha saṅgha is a hundredfold more blissful than my impoverished worldly life; there can be no two opinions on that. Yet, I am still kept as an ordinary bhikshu (monk) in a secondary abode—a secondary monastery—among a secondary group! Alas, in this saṃnyāsa, one gains all the worldly joys without the ultimate sorrow of that worldly life, which is the arduous toil one must undertake for the sake of one's own happiness. We bhikshus are to receive grain without farming, food without lighting a hearth, fruits without planting trees; the only effort we must put in for public welfare is to chew and swallow them! What more, if one can hide behind the shield of chants and prayers, even idleness becomes a virtue the moment one steps into the monastic life—that, at least, is my experience!
Bhikshuṇī: Goodness gracious! Your experience may be such, but Shākambhikshu, mine is quite the opposite. I did not become a bhikshuṇī (nun) because there was nothing to eat at home. But I was terribly tormented by stomach pain, and seeing the dreadful plight of a filthy old woman next to my house, I feared becoming old myself. Just then, four rogues like yourselves came to the village, proclaiming that upon entering the dharma (righteous duty) of Lord Buddha, one becomes free from all sorrows! No old age, no disease, no death! So I was swayed. I thought I would remain thus, straight-backed, charming-eyed, with a graceful gait, the very image of youth, for life! But having become a bhikshuṇī, I find it all empty? And if one wishes for a good bhikshu for companionship, this is your sort of pair! A distressed Nārayaṇa—! This shock only doubled my stomach pain.
Shākambhaṭa: As for doubled stomach pain, that would be the inevitable result of such dual companionship. If that be a flaw, it belongs to the law of nature, not the law of Buddha! And there was an excellent remedy to avoid old age.
Bhikshuṇī: Tell me, tell me, Shākambhikshu, tell me still. What is that excellent remedy to never grow old in this life?
Shākambhaṭa: To give up one's life in youth! It was thy folly to rush with the axe of Buddha's dharma instead of using this needle to remove the thorn of old age rooted in thy foot! What can bhikshus do about that? The same holds for thy other hopes concerning this dharma! Dost thou not understand that every dharma in the world, in presenting hopes of removing all human suffering, of freeing people from birth, old age, disease, and death—all such promissory notes it issues are in pāralaukika (otherworldly) terms, not in the language of this world. How can the birth these dharmas seek to avoid be this very birth? For this birth hath already come and passed! Naturally, all these are hopes for the next birth. All such promissory notes of all dharmas are always written for encashment at the bank of the otherworld. And since people are dazzled when they try to read the divine address on them with open eyes, it may perhaps only be readable after death hath closed their eyes! All these wish-fulfilling cows of dharma are tied in Yama's cowshed, their wish-fulfilling trees are planted in the gardens of cremation grounds, and alas, all their heavens are visible only after death! If, tomorrow, a dharma were truly to emerge that literally alleviated all suffering in this life, in this world, such that its follower would not fall ill even with improper diet, would not suffer decrepitude even in old age, and death would not answer even if called—then, foolish girl, would there be any need to send thousands of bhikshu missionaries to thy very doorstep for the propagation of such a dharma? To join such a dharma, people from this world, nay, even from the moon-world, would walk to that dharma-temple, and even if ye were to try to close the doors of that temple due to the terrible crush, people would rise in rebellion, shouting, 'Such a dharma is our birthright!' But among all these dharmas, there is no moneylender who would pay the sum of these promissory notes in the currency of this life, cash down. Like answers whose verification cannot be checked, all these dharmas are equally true or false.
Bhikshuṇī: Goodness gracious, Shākambhikshu! But what if I were to spread the word to Buddha, making a great fuss, that you give such anti-dharma advice to bhikshuṇīs and maintain such intimate relations with them?
Shākambhaṭa: And what then! Alas, Buddha well knows how contrary-hearted women are. Did not that Chichabayā create a great commotion, alleging that Buddha himself had such intimate relations with her? He who did not shrink from hearing the world's scandal even regarding that shameless accusation, I too shall not shrink from hearing it! And what I say against dharma, that any religion's promise to literally and in this very life free humans from birth, disease, old age, and death is merely a lie—that I can prove from Buddha's own example. First, birth—Buddha himself experienced it. As for diseases, there's no need to speak. Initially, he used scattered grave-cloths from cremation grounds. But when terrible diseases began to arise from them, he commanded bhikshus to use new clothes and himself began to wear costly robes gifted by kings. At first, taking medicines was considered a sin; but later, even royal physicians began to visit. And to save his own body, the proponents of ahiṃsā (non-violence) did not hesitate to allow surgeons to kill millions of germs. What a royal figure he appeared in his youth! If he had completed his incarnation then, at least foolish people would have said he did not fall into the hands of old age. But as if to prevent even that boast, destiny granted him a long life and now hath delivered him into the hands of old age as well. Like any other old man, his teeth began to fall out, his limbs became hollow. Old age took its revenge, debilitating him who had proudly set out to eradicate old age from the entire world! And as for death, Lord Buddha himself now, as he comes and goes, tells the bhikshu community that his death is near, and is making arrangements for the saṅgha after his passing! But while the Lord, who had attained Nirvāṇa (state of liberation), suffered such a plight, hast thou ever seen even one apsarā (celestial nymph) from the heaven where foolish people say Lord Buddha repeatedly goes and comes in his bodily form, come to attend to him? Alas, that is why, without waiting for a procession of apsarās, I consider it wisdom to embrace any available bhikshuṇī like thee, whom others have cast aside, and celebrate our procession in this very life.
Bhikshuṇī: Goodness gracious! What didst thou call me? Useless? Bhaṭuraḍyā!
Shākambhaṭa: Nay, "useless" means cast aside by all others, not that which I find to be cast aside. Why should our hand reach for those whom everyone desires! That is why bhikshus consider even a skull, cast aside by all, a worthy receptacle! (A bell rings.)
Bhikshuṇī: Goodness gracious! That is the bell for sweeping, tidying, and such chores.
Shākambhaṭa: Meaning, it is time for my dhyāna (meditation). Go inside.
Bhikshuṇī: Oh, now he's making a fuss about me! Goodness gracious. I go, I'll be right back! Goodness gracious! (She goes.)
Shākambhaṭa: Now I too must quickly begin my dhyāna. Else, the chief abbot of this vihāra (monastery), that old sthavira (elder monk), will come to compel me to sweep as well. At least, it is good that this Mahāsthavira is our Mahānandī. He does not put anyone to work if they merely sit with their eyes closed, assuming them to be meditating. Thus, the time for monastery work naturally becomes my time for dhyāna. Indeed, the main goal of a bhikshu is the renunciation of all work. Be it merely sweeping, but even that is work, and by evading it, I strive to the best of my ability to become completely non-attached, which is in accordance with the bhikshu-dharma. Here comes someone to call me! If I do not quickly close my eyes and assume the posture of dhyāna, I shall have to rub my eyes and assume the posture of a broom! But the funny thing is, by habituating myself to sitting with closed eyes until all monastery work is done, I have achieved, if not the accomplishment of dhyāna-samādhi (meditation-trance), then certainly that of nidrā-samādhi (sleep-trance). Yes, is not the art of deeply sleeping while sitting also an accomplishment! Oh my, he's here. (He closes his eyes, just as a Bhikshu enters. As the Bhikshu proceeds, Shākambhaṭa squints his eyes, and when the Bhikshu suspiciously looks back, he closes them again. After the Bhikshu leaves.) That nuisance is gone! But he seemed suspicious today. Now, merely squinting with dhyāna will not suffice. The first external test of dhyāna is having closed eyes. But the final test is not coming to consciousness even if some wretched bhikshuṇī tickles one. Such dhyāna must be achieved today! And its direct guru-killi (master key) (He takes out a bhāṅga pill.) —this old acquaintance of mine, which, unlike the quackery of gurus, dissolves all sorrows right here, right now, in this very body, and therefore is more worthy than even gāṃjā to be renowned later in common parlance as bhāṅga (hemp paste)—this pill! —Come, divine bhāṅga, fall into my throat with a plop, like a fishing lure into a well! (He swallows the pill.) Oṃ! Oṃ! Ah, how the outer eyes of the mind are closing, and the inner eyes of the mind are opening. What strange, varied waves! How I float along. Could this not be savikalpa samādhi (meditation with support), which reveals extraordinary visions? The methods differ, but the state is one. Am I truly making progress in Yoga-Shastra? And oh, I am losing myself! Oh, hold, hold! I have slipped down the descending, slippery slope of nirvikalpa samādhi (meditation without support). (He sprawls on the ground.) Sleep, wilt thou at least let me wake after the monastery work is done? Who says scriptural verses are false! Behold, the exact experience! All work avoided: naiṣkarmyasiddhiṃ paramāṃ acireṇādhigacchati (he quickly attains the supreme perfection of non-action). (He sprawls completely.)
Bhikshuṇī: (Suddenly enters.) Goodness gracious! It seems the gentleman has fallen asleep while pretending to meditate. Let me apply the unguent of tickles and expose all this pretense, just wait. (She tickles him.) Oh my, truly deep meditation! It is not broken even by tickling! Could it be abhaṅga samādhi (unbroken meditation)? Then I must inform the sthaviras (elder monks). They themselves stand guard over those who attain abhaṅga samādhi to protect their bodies. Oh, Revered Sthavira! Come, come! Shākambhikshu hath attained abhaṅga samādhi! Abhaṅga samādhi!
Shākambhaṭa: (Jumping up abruptly.) Who says this is abhaṅga samādhi? This is not abhaṅga samādhi. This is sabhaṅga samādhi (broken meditation). When it is attained by the grace of divine bhāṅga, I shall not be ungrateful to bhāṅga by calling it abhaṅga samādhi; say sabhaṅga samādhi! Sabhāṅga samādhi! Say sabhāṅga!
Bhikshuṇī: (Clamping her and his mouth.) Hush! Hush! Softly! What if the sthavira hears, Shākambhikshu! Regain your senses! Regain your senses!!
Tākasiṃha: (Enters.) Stop, I have come to bring that thief to his senses. Vile Bhaṭuraḍyā, speak. Whose khaḍāva (wooden sandals) are these? Thief, thou hast stolen my khaḍāva! Last time, thou didst steal my begging bowl and got away with it. But now, I shall take thy life. Bring those khaḍāva!
Shākambhaṭa: (Struggling.) Those are my khaḍāva! And what if they were thine? Thou art a bhikshu, yet thou wouldst give thy life for khaḍāva?
Tākasiṃha: I shall! Even if my life is lost for the khaḍāva on my feet, so be it! (He takes one khaḍāva after another and keeps striking him fiercely.)
Bhikshuṇī: Goodness gracious! Just as Sunda and Upasunda fought over Mohini in ancient times, so these two will surely lose their lives fighting over these khaḍāva! Oh, Shākambhikshu (He pushes her away.) Goodness gracious! Oh, Tākambhikshu (He also pushes her away.) Goodness gracious!
Girl: (From behind the curtain.) Save me, save me. (She enters.) Bhikshus, save me. I am a princess from the Shākya royal family. The demons from the Kōsala army are running after me, either to make me a slave to General Chaṇḍa or to kill me. I must find abhaya (protection) in this Buddha vihāra (monastery)!
Shākambhaṭa: Fear not, girl! (Still beating with the khaḍāva.) If any soldiers enter this vihāra, I shall chop them up thus! I shall finish them off!
Soldier: (Enters.) What says thou, beggar?
Shākambhaṭa: (Trembling.) Nothing! According to the rules of Buddha vihāras, armed soldiers do not enter. Since she appeared helpless, I said that if they entered, I would finish them off. If I had known you would enter, I would not have spoken so at all.
Soldier: Thou art lying! Hey coward! Hey coward!
Shākambhaṭa: (To Bhikshuṇī.) Hey woman! Answer him, he is calling you!
Bhikshuṇī: Goodness gracious! I am not among them.
Soldier: Coward, not her, but thee—thou art lying.
Shākambhaṭa: Shame, shame! We bhikshus, ahiṃsā (non-violence) is our principal vow. We consider even uttering violent words like "strike," "beat," "thrash" a sin. So, brave warriors, how can we tell lies? No, Master, we observe the vow of ahiṃsā so strictly that we do not even "beat" lies, do not even "thrash" idle talk, do not even "cut" gossip, do not even "kill" a call. Forgive us! You should take this girl and depart safely. We shall go inside. Our time for chanting the rosary of ahiṃsā is drawing near.
Girl: But bhikshus, is not dayā (compassion) also your vow, like ahiṃsā? My suffering...
Shākambhaṭa: We feel dayā. But, girl, if we rescue thee, then the wrath of these soldiers and the lust of General Chaṇḍa will remain unfulfilled, causing them suffering. Should we not feel dayā for them too? As we feel such dayā for the suffering of both of you, we do not meddle in the affairs of relieving anyone's suffering. We shall go inside. Our time for chanting the rosary of dayā is drawing near!
Soldier: Who is that hiding behind the bhikshuṇī? Pull him out!
Tākasiṃha: It is I! I am not a cowardly Brahmin like this Shākambhaṭa, but a Kshatriya. Your own caste-brother! (He clasps his hands in supplication.)
Soldier: Oh, oh! Hadst thou been some lifeless and worthless Brahmin, we might have spared thee as a mere jester; but thou art a Shākya Kshatriya! At a time when this Shākya nation of thine is being trampled under the hooves of our Kōsala horses, even if thou hadst fought against us in battle, enraged by the defeat of thy nation, we might have spared thee. But...
Shākambhaṭa: But if you look at it that way, when he was formerly a Kshatriya, there was no war. Since the war began, he has been a bhikshu. And we bhikshus have no caste, no nation. Let any win in this war between Shākyas and Kōsalas! What is that to us? Whosoever wins, him shall we call king. Beyond this, we have no concern whatsoever with that victory or defeat. It is Buddha's own command that worldly life is supreme suffering; what wise man would commit the sin of war for that, and even if he did—
“जयो वैरं प्रसवति दुःखे शेते पराजितः । उपसन्तः सुखे शेते हित्वा जयपराजयम्“।। Therefore, we sukhe shete! We sleep in happiness.
Soldier: Alas, alas! O wretches! Though I may not agree with all the views of Lord Buddha, seeing these sprinkles of the sacred Vāgbhāgīrathī, flowing from the sthitaprajñatā (steadiness of wisdom) of that Tathāgata Mahatma Buddha, like a Himalaya, thus defiled upon falling into the puddle of these wretches' minds, I cannot but hang my head in shame. But a moment ago, I saw you two bhikshus fighting over mere khaḍāva by stealing them, and now to hear you say that fighting is a sin when the ruin of your own nation and your own caste is at hand, and to see you hide your cowardice beneath the shield of Buddha's ahiṃsā—it makes me wish to behead you instantly. We shall eradicate such adharma (unrighteousness) of this ahiṃsā-dharma (religion of non-violence) from the kingdom root and branch.
Shākambhaṭa and Tākasiṃha: But we are bhikshus, inviolable! You know the scriptures! Nainaṃ chhindanti shastrāṇi (Weapons cannot cleave it).
Soldier: Hypocrites! Do ye take me for some simpleton ass, with two long ears of wicked pity and meaningless ahiṃsā, who would let such deceitful bhikshus live as bhikshus! Seize them, put nose-rings on them, and harness them to forced labour. And then, place them at the forefront of battle, to act as a shield, until their bodies are riddled like sieves, to waste as many enemy arrows as possible.
Tākasiṃha: (Clinging to Shākambhaṭa's neck.) Alas, my friend, even in the monastery, death does not leave Kshatriyas alone!
Shākambhaṭa: Still, O Kshatriya, thou shouldst not weep first; it is proper that I, a Brahmin, should weep first, and then thou, a Kshatriya, shouldst wail. Alas, alas! Oh, do not push me so. Now, indeed, there is no doubt that calamity has befallen the Shākya nation, my friend! Alas, alas! (As soldiers push them away, he suddenly turns back.) Oh, but you have left that bhikshuṇī! At least take her along?
Bhikshuṇī: Goodness gracious, am I thy wedded wife to commit sati with thee, thou wretch? Goodness gracious! (She goes.)
Scene 4
The War Council – Vikramsingh, Sulochana (Sulochana in disguise), and two other Military Commanders.
Vikram: Commanders of the remaining last army of the Shakyas, the main reason for this urgent war council, which I have convened amidst the thick of battle, is the extremely important letter we have received from our enemy, Vidyutgarbha of Kosala, as you are aware. An answer to that letter must be given at this very moment. This moment of answering that letter will likely be the last moment of our Shakya nation’s life! For if you decide that it is more expedient to lay down arms and surrender unconditionally, as demanded by Vidyutgarbha's letter, then the Shakya kingdom is dead at this instant. But even if you do not decide thus and continue the war, the Shakyas can endure for, at most, another four or six days. This is because the deadly consequences of the long-standing national neglect of military strength, a sin that we committed, must now be suffered by us, no matter how much you or I struggle at this eleventh hour—there is no alternative! Although we have held Vidyutgarbha’s main army here, he possesses many subsidiary forces. We have just now received secret intelligence that one of these is advancing upon our capital. Therefore, even if we continue the war, victory is not possible. The only satisfaction we shall now gain is to make the enemy half-dead before we fully die ourselves, not letting him achieve victory too easily. And that too is a heroic duty; so speak. The decision you utter at this moment will be the final word of our nation; bear this eternal responsibility in mind and speak. Vidyutgarbha’s first proposal is that he holds great reverence for Bhagawan Buddha. For Buddha not only preached the principles of disarmament, non-violence, and compassion, but also, while such a conflagration of war raged all around, he remained unentangled in the world’s snares, steadfastly practicing these principles as before. This monastic devotion to disarmament is extremely venerable. Buddha is a great personality in the world.
First Commander: If Vidyutgarbha truly finds this disarmament commendable, then first, let him himself cease his present violence and show compassion by adopting such disarmament today!
Sulochana: In one sense, disarmament is indeed venerable. The Shakyas are now even considering it imitable. For the disarming of a weapon—meaning its throw—that accurately severs the neck of a villain, that is disarmament. That throw of an arrow, that strike of a sword, that thrust of a khadga (sword)—these too are venerable to us. We shall imitate them.
Vikram: Vidyutgarbha’s second proposal in this final ultimatum is that I, who have deviated from Buddha’s venerable vow, and, though a monk, have broken the vow of disarmament and taken up arms in violent warfare, should be severely punished by you for this transgression of Buddha’s command and breach of vow.
Sulochana: Indeed, a punishment has been meted out. The harshest of all punishments, as soon as you were ready to bear arms, O armed ascetic, the Shakyas have indeed given to you. For the Shakyas have bestowed upon you the royal scepter, which is the very embodiment of all punishments, and appointed you the supreme and unique ruler of the nation.
First Commander: O young warrior, you have spoken absolutely correctly. And in bestowing that royal scepter upon an armed ascetic, it is true that not only the commander, as Vidyutgarbha says, but we too have somewhat deviated from our vows. For with the exception of one Vallabha, we Shakyas, who were bewildered by the sudden raid of the Kosalas, and who, without fighting a single battle, held military strength in low esteem and thus became even weaker, had taken a vow of constant retreat before the enemy and of merely being killed. But as soon as this ascetic commander, Vikramsingh, entered the fray, we ceased to observe that vow. O supreme hero, it is because of your coming that we have been able to utterly destroy the Kosala army for these four days and somewhat crush the cruel Vidyutgarbha’s fangs—that indeed has been our deviation from the vow!
Second Commander: When the very enemies of Bhagawan Buddha, who had four times sent assassins against him, come forward to declare that Buddha is the greatest man in the world, it merely proves that non-resistance and extreme non-violence benefit these aggressors. He holds up Buddha's ideal to us, not to himself! If all of us become such non-resistant Buddhist monks, then this Shakya land will fall easily into his lap. And if we become followers of resistant armed non-violence, as you advocate, then such violence as his father did not face, this Vidyutgarbha also will not face. Therefore, he seeks to create disrespect for us in our minds, and puts on a hypocritical display about Buddha. Tell Vidyutgarbha, if Buddha is the greatest man in the world, then let him himself become a follower, embrace non-violence, and become a monk!
Vikram: Now, after these two introductory proposals, I seek your opinion on the main proposal in Vidyutgarbha’s final ultimatum. It would be well if the Shakyas were to send an unconditional letter of surrender right now and cede the kingdom to Vidyutgarbha. Otherwise, he says, he will immediately behead Commander Vallabha, who has fallen into their hands, and inflict an extremely severe punishment upon you, such as the punishment I have meted out to the Shakyas thus far is nothing compared to, as soon as your capital falls into my hands! I will slaughter the Shakyas, including their women and children. Tell me what answer we should send to this dreadful threat. It is human nature for my heart to be swayed by paternal affection on such an occasion, Vallabha being my son. My opinion will influence you, so I shall not offer any opinion in this decision but will decide according to your majority. Only if by chance you fail to reach a definitive collective opinion will I consider my authoritative opinion as the supreme ruler to be the decisive one. Gentlemen, this is a time of total destruction for a nation. Therefore, without letting the balance tilt towards either thoughtless bravery or thoughtless cowardice, speak clearly whatever you have to say.
First Commander: Commander, after three days of close combat, it is needless for me to say that I do not fear my own death. I have personally counted and sent my four sons into this battle; I saw them killed. But now the question before me is whether I should witness this entire Shakya race being slaughtered or not! Commander, even if we fight further, the capital will fall; the enemy is extremely powerful; who can achieve something beyond human effort? In the last three or four days, we have exerted the utmost bravery. But now, when there is not the slightest hope of resistance remaining, merely to die for death’s sake and cause the destruction of thousands of orphaned and helpless Shakya people is almost a sin, so it seems to me. Let me be called a coward by this generation or a future one, I care not! That nationalism which causes the slaughter of thousands of people in a nation merely to be called brave is not nationalism, but treason! As long as war could serve the interests of the Shakyas, I waged war. Now, since surrendering to the enemy will avert, to some extent at least, the misfortune of the Shakyas, I consider it my true duty to surrender unconditionally to Vidyutgarbha.
Second Commander: If even these noble Shakya commanders see no other way but for the Shakyas to surrender, what more can I say?
Vikram: Both your opinions will form the majority. That is the decision, so is surrender appropriate?
Second Commander: Nay, nay, I do not say it is appropriate! I only say it is unavoidable. How can I say surrender is appropriate! Alas, for the Shakyas to surrender means to strip our kingdom, our republic, our regal raiment from the Ikshvaku branch of the solar dynasty. This royal crown of fifty-two generations is to be kicked off our heads by Vidyutgarbha’s foot. It is to be placed in some exhibition in Kosala’s capital, like a toy for women and children to behold during festivals! That is what surrender means. We are to be bound by chains or led by guards before Vidyutgarbha, who will twist his mustache and say, “What, you rascals! Are you tired of fighting?” And with a furious kick, we are to stumble and fall far away! In every marketplace and square of the world, people will say, “The Shakya kingdom is ruined! What fools! They went to establish non-violence in the world and ended up destroying their own spirit! They lost their kingdom without fighting a single battle! What cowards!” And those words I shall hear wherever I go! Bah, surrender is not appropriate, it is not appropriate, it is not appropriate, and even if unavoidable, it matters not. But then, should a gem like Vallabha be allowed to die for the sake of this hollow pride of not surrendering? Hollow pomp, for without reason, that Shakya canopy, that palace, that crown, will be crushed under the victorious hooves of Vidyutgarbha’s horse. The world will say the Shakya nation is dead, so why sacrifice Vallabha? By what right? Vallabha, our valiant commander, who rallied the bewildered, disorganized Shakya army as best he could, stemmed the enemy’s tide, and when all remedies failed, shouting "Strike! Kill!", threw himself into the enemy and fought until surrounded and captured—are the Shakyas to send a thankless message to Vidyutgarbha, saying, “You may happily behead him”? With such treachery, how can I show my face to Vallabha’s loving and young wife, whose neck we would metaphorically sever? May your house repay the debt of three generations of martyrs by rendering your lineage childless! And may we be instrumental in the enemy, enraged, turning the remaining Shakya race into ashes! Merely for hollow pride! Bah, Commander! We must surrender! No, we must not surrender! Both paths are equally contemptible; equally acceptable. What then shall we decide? Grandfather, I leave everything to you. I have no opinion. Your opinion is my opinion.
Vikram: O young warrior, now speak your mind. Three days ago you joined the army as an unknown soldier. In these three days, by your utmost display of valor, the lightning speed of your horse, the accurate aim of your arrows, and the ruthless courage of your heart, you have risen from soldier to commander in three days. I consider you a representative of the young generation of Shakyas. Speak. Now the entire decision rests upon your opinion. For of the three of you, one has offered no opinion. One has given the opinion that surrender is appropriate. Now, if you too give the same opinion, then by your majority, surrender will be the decided course. Commander Vallabha's life now depends not on Vidyutgarbha’s sword, but on your tongue. Vallabha’s young beloved stands at the door, waiting anxiously for him, remember her. Picture hundreds of crimson Kosala swords, drunk with the intoxication of blood, invading the streets of the Shakya capital, cutting down Shakya men, women, and children at sight! Then speak. The inclination of your youthful nature will quickly rise, roaring "War! War!!" befitting an enraged warrior. That side will be your natural tendency, therefore, to rein in that fiery passion, I am putting forth the counter-argument more extensively. Now, state your definite decision.
Sulochana: National Patriarch, Supreme Authority, I state my definite opinion in clear words. Hear me! If we lay down arms today and surrender unconditionally, I find no specific boon Vidyutgarbha offers us in his letter. He will take the capital. He will destroy the Shakya kingdom, he will make the Shakya crown a footrest for the throne of Kosala. Not only that, but he gives no promise in that letter that he will not continue the same destruction—burning Shakya villages, indiscriminate slaughter, laying waste the country—that he has wrought until now, after taking the capital. My two senior commanders must not have realised this. Therefore, they assume that if we surrender, such a catastrophe will not befall the nation further. However, Vidyutgarbha does not say he will not cause a worse catastrophe than what has occurred so far. All he says in that letter is that if you do not surrender, a more terrible catastrophe than any until now will befall you! But what could be a more terrible catastrophe than the torment we have already endured? Furthermore, consider that the word of Vidyutgarbha, who here engaged in talks of peace and then suddenly launched a more insidious attack on the thus unsuspecting Shakyas, is nothing but deception. Therefore, the situation in brief is this: the Shakya nation’s destruction is mostly certain. Hope of victory is lost; yet, the Shakyas still have one hope. That is, of revenge. Avoiding death is impossible, but one thing is still possible. That is, to die fighting!
First Commander: This attitude of yours is merely a blind reaction of anger.
Sulochana: It is indeed so. But this reaction of suppressed anger is the goad to the elephant of madness. If one steps on a snake's tail, the snake quickly turns and bites, and as we die, we render the enemy mortally wounded, not for victory, but for revenge. And because mankind fears that the snake's species is vengeful, people do not dare to crush a snake as easily as children crush an ant or a lizard. An arrow-wounded tiger, even when dying, leaps with this desperate reaction and sinks its teeth into the hunter’s throat. The tiger dies; yet, seeing this vengeful reactive nature of the tiger, no man goes tiger hunting as casually for fun as he would go rabbit hunting. What is an ant! When it bites a man’s foot, it knows full well that by this bite it will not personally survive. But it bites not to live, but to ensure that the one who killed it must suffer some punishment. That biting ant dies. But then, not only man but even snakes rarely enter a nest of such biting ants of its kind! There is a species of bees. As soon as their hive is destroyed, they abandon the pursuit of honey, caring not what becomes of their other bees. Instead, each individual bee will relentlessly pursue the person who destroyed the hive, stinging them. So firmly does its stinger embed itself in the person's body that it cannot retreat. It dies there. Yet, it knowingly goes to die thus. For the satisfaction of dying in revenge gives it greater joy than the satisfaction of a humiliated life. Consequently, mankind never fears an entire colony of silkworms as much as it fears a single one of those bees. This sting of revenge that nature has placed in the anger of all creatures has such a divine purpose: that this tendency for revenge does not let an aggressive assault and its sinful plunder go completely uncostly. Thus, the aggressor does not rush to commit such acts with the same fearless speed as he would if there were no fear of revenge. The rest of the world remains safer from aggressive torment to that extent. Therefore, if the Shakya nation’s death is now inevitable, then not for its own life, but at least for the rest of the world to live, the Shakyas should fall upon Vidyutgarbha like tigers. Each Shakya should die, exacting revenge and meting out punishment, crying out, at least five cruel Kosalas, so that this Vidyutgarbha will not dare to launch such an armed raid on other small, similar principalities in the future. He will not be able to achieve victory so easily! At such a time, revenge is not merely an innate reaction, but a benevolent duty. Therefore, my answer to your question is unequivocally one: Not surrender, but revenge!
Vikram: O young warrior, I offer this caution not to obstruct your decision, but that there may be no diminishment in the heroic and spontaneous reasoning with which you have supported that decision. You have, considering all other causes and effects, omitted one crucial thing entirely. We do not lay down arms. Our answer is not surrender. Revenge! The moment the sound of your decision reaches the ears of that wicked Vidyutgarbha, his sword, too, will fall upon Vallabha’s neck with the terrible impact of its echo, and his head will be severed instantly! You have not forgotten this, have you? It is a different matter if you attach no importance whatsoever to that single consequence.
Sulochana: Who counts an individual in the consideration of the eternal gains and losses of nations! Patriarch, I cannot make the mistake of considering that thought.
First Commander: What understanding or misunderstanding can such an unknown youth have! How can he comprehend the importance of Commander Vallabha! You are a warrior, but you are an ignorant youth, unacquainted with statecraft, dwelling in some village. O brave youth, have you ever even seen that steadfast Commander Vallabha? Ah, if you had seen his charming, divine countenance, alas, at the very word of your decision, your mind's eye would have seen that radiant countenance severed by the wicked Vidyutgarbha’s axe and falling to the ground, and you would have fainted. Who counts an individual? But a nation is not some independent entity floating in the sky! The nation of an individual, and especially an individual like Commander Vallabha, marked by extraordinary personal greatness and vested with the authority of national commandership, is a manifest expression of the nation itself! One of these two lineages, whose history is the history of the Shakyas over the last three centuries, is our royal lineage; it was severed and rendered extinct by the ascetic tongue of Bhagawan Buddha. This second national lineage, next to the royal lineage, is the ancestral line of these Patriarchs. That lineage is being severed and rendered extinct today by your warlike tongue. Alas, alas, and behold Vallabha's young new bride, Sulochana! Maharaj, she is my niece. I saw her when she was a child. She shone like a star! Later, we went far away, and she never met me again. She has not yet even passed her twentieth year. Not even a full year may have passed since her love-marriage! Before the first bloom of flowers has even appeared on her vine of youth, how dare you try to wipe away the tender vermilion of her hopes of happiness! Do not sever the throat of that delicate-hearted maiden with a hair! Young man, do you have any beloved person in this world for whom your soul yearns when you do not meet them? If so, bring that beloved image before your eyes. Then immediately envision the gruesome scene where that beloved person’s dear countenance is sharply severed from the neck by a butcher’s axe, and thick gouts of blood spurt forth; and then remember that the anguish that will overcome your heart with the imagined pain of that scene will be a hundredfold less than the agony Vallabha's beloved new bride, Sulochana, will experience upon hearing the news of his actual beheading, and then speak! What more can I say than this?
Sulochana: I said earlier that in matters of national or global welfare, the question of individual joy and sorrow is secondary. But if you insist on my opinion even on that secondary question, then I ask, even if we lay down arms and the enemy perhaps spares Vallabha’s life, for what purpose would he spare him? When that Vidyutgarbha returns to Kosala after annihilating this Shakya nation, will it not be to parade Vallabha as the conquered commander of the Shakyas before his victorious chariot? To display him as one would a defanged tiger among women and children? It seems to me that such a death in martyrdom would be more desirable to the honorable Commander Vallabha than such a miserable existence. Commander, I, too, have a beloved person in this world still (sobbing, bewildered, to himself) — Oh, what have I said? My mind has revolted! It tries to escape its prison! Reason, you guards, seize it!
Vikram: That is to say, that is to say! Brave youth, why are you faltering! Be firm and clearly state what your heart feels!
Sulochana: (Composing himself) Maharaj, forgive me! My speech wavered slightly. You ask what my mind says! But just as kings imprison internal rebels before entering the battlefield, so too has my intellect imprisoned my mind and sealed its mouth, placing reason as a strong guard. Therefore, my mind has no opinion now; I have an opinion, and I, as a soldier of the Shakya nation, am clearly stating it: rather than branding the life, nay, the very memory of the nation with the eternal stigma of cowardly surrender for the sake of one Commander Vallabha’s life, it is fitting that the lives of Vallabha and all of us be sacrificed in fierce combat, utterly destroying the enemy. My conviction is that Vallabha himself is the son of the Patriarch, a brave man by nature, the commander of the Shakyas, and the beloved of a brave woman! I consent to his beheading precisely because if we surrender and Vallabha perchance escapes, that commander himself would not spare us from beheading ourselves for having feared his beheading. Not surrender, but war—that is my final word?
Vikram: Excellent! Excellent!! O young householder warrior, you have truly made us old ascetic sages bow our heads in shame at your self-control! Indeed, what ascetic could be more self-controlled, more detached, more unblemished than the householder warrior who casts away his own head, as one casually throws a ball of rags, for the sake of his dharma (righteous duty), for his nation, for benevolent justice! Listen, commanders, listen to the final word of this war council! If this young commander had consented to surrender, two votes would have fallen on that side, and that would have become the decisive majority. But since his final word is war, and one has not given an opinion, with one vote each on both sides, the final decision rests upon my heart. Therefore, I render that decision thus: in accordance with the last word of this young warrior, the last word of the Shakyas shall also be: Not surrender, but war! Come, let our army, which has been fighting continuously for four days, rest until tomorrow morning, and tomorrow, fall upon the enemy as a thunderbolt from the sky. Go forth, uttering the last word of the Shakyas. Dismiss this war council!
All: Not surrender, but war! Not surrender, but war! To die fighting!
Scene 5
(Sulochana and Nalini, disguised as men.)
Sulochana: (Looking hither and thither) Nalini, look, do stains of blood appear upon my heart? I have committed a heinous murder and am come away!
Nalini: What mean you, my lady! For three days past, returning from the battlefield, you have been bathed in the blood of the nation's foes! The garments upon the breast of such a supremely valorous, warring virangana (heroine) must indeed be dyed crimson with the blood of her adversaries.
Sulochana: Nay, not the garments upon my breast! Behold the heart within my breast! Daily, whilst hewing down the savage hosts of the nation's enemy, Vidyudgarbha, the spurting blood would dye my breast-garments crimson; yet no single stain thereof did fall upon the pristine purity of my heart. But today, today, Nalini, I have come away after the murder of one utterly innocent and blameless. Not the covert or overt slaying of a villain, but the secret murder of a virtuous one, of him who rested his head trustingly upon my lap! The stains of that blood, I feel, have splashed upon my heart! The mere remembrance of that dreadful murder fills me with the dread that some assassin pursues me. Hence, I declare, I must obliterate every trace of this killing. So look, pray look, have any such stains of innocent blood splattered upon my heart! Ah, how can you see my heart merely from without? Peer through my eyes, then shall you perceive my heart. They say the stains of treacherous murder fall upon the heart; and furthermore, my friend, that spilled blood was the blood of one devoted.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Alas, my friend, alas
Tāla: | Chāl: Bol Bhavenda Bol Original:
हाय सखे गे हाय । सांडी मी जे । अनुरक्ताचे । रक्त ते एक्या ।। ध्रु. ।।
मांडीवरी माझ्या । निजवी ज्या चुंबुनी । मी केसाने कापी । कंठा त्याच्या । अनुरक्ताचे । रक्त ते एका ।। १ ।। Translation:
Alas, my friend, alas! That blood I spilled,
It was the blood of one devoted.
(Chorus)
Upon my lap he slept, by me oft kissed,
His throat I severed with a lock of hair;
It was the blood of one devoted.
Nalini: Sulochana, my lady! What words are these you utter! Whose murder? Who is this devoted one? Virangana, why are you thus suddenly distraught? I am filled with fear. Pray tell me clearly what has transpired!
Sulochana: Know you not who is devoted? Nay, he upon whom I was devoted, and who was devoted unto me, he was my beloved! Nalini, I have come away after slaying my beloved. Not by sword. Ah, for such treachery, the sword's edge proves blunt. Behold the sharpness of my tongue! The blow of betrayal, which makes the blade of a sword tremble, was struck by the sharpness of this tongue. Nalini, with my tongue I severed the head of my beloved; with my hair, I cut the throat of my darling.
(Trembling, she sinks onto the couch.)
Nalini: What ominous words speak you, my lady! Has she not suffered a fit of vapours? What shall I do now, my lady? Sir, Sir, should anyone swiftly arrive at our camp, will not this disguise of ours be revealed by such behaviour?
Sulochana: Verily, am I not still in disguise? Then this forgetful conduct of mine becomes truly ludicrous, like some uncultivated actor who, whilst the play proceeds, spies a friend among the audience from the stage and instantly calls out to him, still in his theatrical costume. Therefore, do this now: remove this my dramatic guise. But you, remain in your male attire and stand guard at the outpost of our camp, whilst I retire to the inner chamber and converse with my mind for a while. From the moment we set forth in male guise, I had imprisoned my frail heart and sealed its lips, vowing that they would open only when my beloved's hand should unseal them. But now, that vow have I myself rendered impossible. For, Nalini, it was not merely because I gave an unfavourable opinion that surrender to the enemy was not decided; and if the Shakyas will not surrender, then the cruel Vidyudgarbha has issued an order for my beloved to be slain. This night is for rest; tomorrow, the final assault upon the enemy. Our battle-plan must now be in his hands — and with that, the sword in his hands will be at my beloved's throat! Alas, alas! How shall I ever meet my beloved now! How shall he come to speak and hear the secrets of my heart! The whole world remains to hear my reasonings. Those reasonings I have spoken these past eight days. But now, in solitude, there is none save my own mind to speak to regarding the matters of my heart. Therefore, I shall now for a short while remove the seal from its lips. For a short while, I shall be myself! The remaining acts of my play are ended. Only the final act now remains. Just as actors, having recited the dramatist's lines, spend the interval between two acts backstage as themselves, speaking their own thoughts, so shall I. I shall now cease merely reciting speeches devoid of the sentiment of heroism (veerarasa), and for a moment shall commune with my own mind in my unfettered speech. Yes, solitude. A solitude achieved by the demise of that one, unparalleled soul, my life's companion. Come, let us go into this inner chamber, and shed this theatrical guise. And then, go and sit on guard.
(Both go inside. The inner curtain opens.)
Sulochana: (In woman's attire before a mirror) Hm, hm. Now I recognise myself. This is that same Sulochana. Exactly as she appeared some eight or ten days past, stringing a garland for the worship of Kamadeva (god of love) with her hands, singing the garland-song with her lips, and waiting in her heart for her beloved—waiting for her beloved who had gone forth promising to return immediately—whilst in the innocent solitude of her bed-chamber within her abode! Considering what transpired thereafter as though it had never been, now, Come, my heart, come, and speak with me. That mother-in-law of your discernment sleeps for a moment. So until then, my heart, speak with me to your heart's content. After a day's household duties are done, when the mother-in-law bids the virtuous daughter-in-law go to the temple for an hour in the evening and take some rest, then does she sit and converse with a free heart, laughing. The day of my life is setting, evening is drawing nigh. So come, my heart, let us go to the temple standing. (Taking out a portrait of her beloved) Behold the image of my deity! My god, my beloved, my dearest, pray cling to my breast for a moment thus.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Even today, as I depart
Tāla: | Chāl: Khwaja Ke Kadam Pe Original:
येचि आजि जाता जाता । एकदा मला घे । जिवलगा मला घे । ये ना । छातिशी मला घे ।। ध्रु. ।।
नसे आयुष्य वा धनी ना मृत्युही ज्याच्या ।। प्रिया एकान्त हा ऐका एका तुझा माझा ।। जिवलगा मला घे ।। Translation:
Even today, as I depart,
Pray take me once into thine arms,
My life's companion, take me to thy breast.
(Chorus)
Not life, nor death's dominion, but
This solace, my love, only thine and mine,
My life's companion, take me to thy breast.
Ah, how light-hearted I feel, thus conversing so naturally with my beloved in solitude after so many days! You were to return swiftly, were you not? It was the first anniversary of our festival of love, was it not, for our marriage of affection? And for that auspicious occasion, a worship of the propitious Kamadeva was to be performed, was it not? Then why did you not come quickly? I shall not now make the mistake of wasting time in baseless sulking. I shall not even observe a lover's quarrel. At most, I shall but ask: Beloved, tell me now once more, is woman a man's chain or his inspiration? In the battle where you vanquished the savage foe, your beloved, this darling of yours, also vanquished that foe in that very battle. Ere your sword could fall, she snatched it up and did not even let the foe perceive that your sword had dropped. Then, brave warrior, does not this virangana befit you? Then tell me, is woman a man's chain or his inspiration? A man's deficiency or his fulfillment? I know what answer you will give to corner me again; you will say, "True; but who is your guru? Whose disciple are you?" Thine own, beloved, thine own! You yourself taught me these four simple tenets of valour and the science of what is righteous and unrighteous; and this boon of questioning right from wrong, given by you, O innocent Shiva, like Bhasmasura, finally turned against your own life. And in the council of war just now, it became a destructive hand placed upon your own head. Not the destruction of the senses, but their conquest, lies in being ready instantly to sacrifice personal pleasures for the public good, even whilst enjoying sense-gratifications as desired, should they impede its achievement. He who practises such a yoga of action, though a householder, is like a sanyasi (renouncer) and eligible for videhamukti (liberation from the body). These tenets of dharma (righteous duty), of your father, your grandfather Vikramasimha, that military sanyasi, you adopted as your creed and made me adopt as mine; as you taught them, so I practised them. If there was any error in them, the responsibility, O General, lies in your military discipline. For in that council of war, it was not I who rendered that dire decision, but a national soldier of the Shakyas, tempered in the closest instruction and discipline of General Vallabha. But now, I am Sulochana. I am the impulsive, youthful beloved of my Vallabha. O Lord Kamadeva, I was stringing flowers for your worship when you departed! Alas, alas, how withered they are! What is their fault! In this mortal world, flowers shall indeed wither, petals shall fall, fragrance shall vanish. But therefore, I do not go about blaming the world, nor constantly loathing it. For flowers also blossom in this world, petals emerge in this world, and fragrance too pervades this world!
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Though they wither in this world
Tāla: | Chāl: Maun Man Ko Fasiya Original:
सुकतातचि जगि या । जरी की । फुले गळत पाकळी पाकळी ।
उमलति ना त्याही कलिका । ज्या ।। ध्रु. ।।
परंतु सुंदर कळ्या पाकळ्या फुलती ही जगि या ।
विसर ना हे वैतागीं । तुझिया ।। १ ।। Translation:
Though they wither in this world, and fall,
Petal by petal, never to blossom again,
Those very buds, those fragile petals!
(Chorus)
Yet beauteous buds and petals bloom in this world,
Forget not this, in thy vexation.
My only mistake was that as soon as the flowers had blossomed, I did not swiftly fulfill their cherished desires, adorn them, or offer them in worship as floral tributes. On that day, as he departed, without wasting time in loving silence, I did not swiftly string this fresh garland and place it about his neck! And I did not say, "Pray take me once!" But even now, there is a slight opportunity to place this garland of my devotion about my god's neck! For those who say that there is a heaven also say that those slain in a righteous war, waged for the destruction of villains, ascend to that heaven. So, if that be possible, my beloved, slain, may have gone to heaven and become a god. On the night of battle, I too shall be slain, facing the field of sacrifice, and shall follow in my beloved's footsteps to heaven. Therefore, though this garland be withered, I must keep it with me thus. For if our earthly bodies attain divine status in heaven, why should not the earthly flowers that were with us also attain the status of divine flowers in heaven? Once this remaining night has passed, tomorrow at this very hour of night, as I set foot at the gates of heaven, my beloved will be a god, I a divine nymph, and this garland of divine flowers, a garland of parijata (celestial flower)! My incomplete worship of Kamadeva will be fulfilled. As soon as I see my beloved, I shall place this garland about his neck thus. I shall say, "Pray take me once!" And he will extend his arms and draw me to his vast breast. I shall rest my hands upon those strong shoulders, close my eyes upon his heart thus, and become absorbed in a trance of love.
(At that moment, Vallabha enters and stands within her outstretched arms.)
Vallabha: Sulochana, my friend!
Sulochana: Vallabha? Amazing! They say that when a devotee's meditation reaches its peak, he beholds his chosen deity in person—and it is not false! Am I in heaven or in a dream? My God, are you merely an illusion of my mind? Let it be so! He whom I deemed real vanished like an illusion; then if he whom I deem an illusion shall remain embodied and palpable thus, then that illusion is reality, illusion is truth, truth is illusion. Then, Vallabha, tell me, are you an illusion or a manifestation, or truly present? Are we on earth, in heaven, or in a dream?
Vallabha: My dear, I am truly Vallabha himself. In the end, I am as real in this world of illusion, yours and mine, as I seemed before. I myself doubt whether this is my rebirth or my very birth! But let all that pass, birth or rebirth, heaven or dream, illusion or reality—in this wondrous eddy of a moment, our astonishing meeting has indeed occurred. So come, let us both plunge into this ocean of joy of embrace and be utterly submerged.
(They embrace.)
Vallabha: Sulochana!
Sulochana: Vallabha!
Vallabha: Even if my head were severed, I would not worry. But you gave the opinion that it is not well to surrender to a wicked foe, is that true?
Sulochana: Yes, my dear.
Vallabha: Then I am greatly angered by that.
Sulochana: Nay, my dear, that is impossible. Well, is it true that on that day, you departed for the royal assembly saying you would soon return, and as soon as the war-horn of national battle was sounded, you left me thus, without even a farewell, and became estranged as ever?
Vallabha: Yes, my dear, a warrior's duty permits no retreat.
Sulochana: Then I am greatly angered by that.
Vallabha: Nay, my dear, that is impossible. You are a virangana.
Sulochana: Likewise, it is impossible for you to be angered by my opinion that the Shakyas should not surrender. For, Vallabha, you are the foremost of warriors! But, my friend, my mind is still confused as to whether you or I, or both of us, are merely dreaming. So tell me, by what coincidence are we meeting thus? How were you freed, and how did you know I was here? Pray tell me swiftly, for though I would rather forget myself by lying silently upon your breast in your embrace for this fleeting moment, which is like the fruit of infinite merit, than hear it in detail, yet I do wish to hear a little.
Vallabha: After I was wounded and fell into enemy hands, in the past four or five days, your valour caused the Shakya forces to annihilate Vidyudgarbha's army, which greatly disordered and frightened the Kosala army. Both guards over me were wounded soldiers themselves; they would often drift into unconsciousness. One night, a Shakya farmer from a neighbouring village, whom the enemy forces had forcibly conscripted, by chance stood there; he recognised me and, displaying utmost daring, used his keys to unlock my prison whilst the guards were in their stupor, and led me out. In the disguise of one of his labourers, I escaped from Vidyudgarbha's army. I reached our army thus, and learned of the resolution of the council of war from General Father Vikramasimha. In it, it was decreed that to behold the embodiment of their pride and valour, that young commander who had scorned surrender and had not allowed that stain to attach itself to the memory of the Shakya nation, I should come to your tent. The guard standing outside, instead of challenging me, became flustered and instantly prostrated himself at my feet; I lifted his head and looked, and it was Nalini! In a few sentences she told me what had transpired, and I understood that the embodiment of Shakya valour was this my impulsive, sulking, loving, youthful Sulochana! Now, in tomorrow's final calamity of battle, we shall not be generals. We are merely soldiers in the ranks of this my tiny commander!
Sulochana: Tomorrow's is for tomorrow. Yesterday's for yesterday. My friend, let me remember only this fragment that has been found today amidst that final tomorrow and that harsh predicament; I remember only my Vallabha and myself, his Sulochana, dissolving, melting, and forgetting myself in his embrace thus. My friend, I feel strange. Your departure that day, and your arrival today, both are accidental, sudden, both unbearable; Vallabha, pray take me in your lap for a moment. Let this withered garland of Kamadeva's worship lie about my neck thus. Let me for a moment wave this lamp that has cooled in my eyes over you. My lord, a profound slumber is overcoming me. On this sweet stupor of this last night of my love's final union, O Lord Kamadeva, let the final curtain of my life also fall! But wait; only for tomorrow's battle must you awaken me. I have yet to fulfill my remaining desire to share a couch with you, akin to a bed of battle. So do awaken me just for that. Otherwise, even the final profound slumber of my life upon this bed of love might be disturbed by the suddenness of tomorrow's bed of battle! My lord, my lord, where are you?
Vallabha: What? Sulochana, Sulochana, I am right here. What, what?
Sulochana: I feel a strange, unbearable suffocation. This sweet stupor! Or an enchanting swoon!! Or a sweet demise!!!
Vallabha: What means this! My beloved has swooned whilst speaking! Her pulse, this thread of her life—nay, nay, O innocent love, O foolish mind, this is no swoon. The hand of death steadily pulls and wraps this thread of my lovely beloved's life. O Death, with this thread of her pulse, this thread of her life, you seek to drag her away; but I shall not permit you. Your noose fell about my neck when I was captured by my enemy; but did you, enraged by my escape, pursue me hither? If so, your aim is missed. My throat is my beloved's; a frail woman's throat. Like some unskilled archer, withdraw your errant noose from her throat and cast it about mine! Alas, alas, she is departing! My beloved is being violently pulled away from this my miserly embrace into the snares of death! What shall I do now? Her breath, her life, my treasure of gems is no more! I shall not allow it to leave this repository of her beauty, her body. Upon the captivating face of this beautiful golden casket, like a staunch miser, I shall place this lock of kisses, and I shall not permit the priceless treasure of her life, the gems within her heart, to escape! Sulochana, my darling—what shall I do now! Nalini, Nalini!
Nalini: (Entering) Master, what is this? Why are you suddenly overcome with grief?
Vallabha: My Sulochana has suddenly slipped down the treacherous slope of unconsciousness into the abyss of death.
Nalini: My Lord, what ominous words you speak! How did this happen?
Vallabha: Oh, how, you ask? A while ago, in the council of war, she consented to my demise, did she not? In revenge for that, I, this wretch, her beloved, have slain this his beautiful beloved by plunging the dagger of joy into her heart! Do you not understand? Nalini, when I suddenly departed for the battlefield's jaws of death, leaving her alone, I wounded her with the unbearable sorrow of that accidental separation; and now, upon my sudden return from those jaws of death, I have slain her with the unbearable joy of this accidental union. Nalini, grief cannot be contained within my heart. Breaking the discipline of this military camp, my silent grief yearns to burst forth in a lament!
Nalini: (Listening) What is this? A great clamour is rising somewhere.
Vallabha: Nay, not a clamour—it is the echo of my silent grief, raging wantonly yonder, beyond the bounds of the camp's discipline!
Song:
Song Details:
Title: My silent grief
Tāla: | Chāl: Kon Khele Tose Original:
मूक शोक भर माझा । गे हा हाय । हंबरडा फोडी ॥ ध्रु. ॥
वा गहिवरल्या वनदेवींचा। सहदुःख भर साचा। गे हा हाय हंबरडा फोडी ।।१।। Translation:
My silent grief, alas,
Bursts forth in lamentation!
(Chorus)
Or the full measure of shared sorrow
Of the grieving forest deities, alas,
Bursts forth in lamentation!
(The war-horn sounds. Shakya soldiers enter, crying, "Enemy raid, arise!")
Shakya Sainik: Raid! Raid! General, the enemy's valiant general, Chanda, has launched a fearsome raid on our camp from the north! We were to launch our final assault on the enemy tomorrow, but as the enemy has suddenly attacked us beforehand, Vikramasimha, the Supreme Commander, considering this night the chance for a decisive conclusion, has himself engaged in the final battle. It is his command that all should proceed thither, fighting and striking.
Vallabha: Most reverently do I accept! Here is my sword raised! Arise, Sulochana, the national enemy has advanced—this is the final battle! Arise! For the welfare of the people, even the joy of personal demise must for a moment be set aside, just as the joy of personal life.
(Again, an uproar. "Help! Draw your weapons—help!")
Vallabha: Yes, I come! Nalini, I go! Till I return, wounded in this battle, to die beside her, protect the lifeless body of my beloved. If I do not return, then offer it, along with this camp, to the god of fire! And now, as I go, my friend, this is your lover's last, silent farewell.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Your beloved departs
Tāla: | Chāl: Utho Piya Jago Original:
सखा तुझा जातो । निरोपा सखि देई ।। ध्रु.।।
जाण्यासी ज्या परत न येणे ।
त्या जाण्याच्या । निरोपा सखि देई ।। १।।
आसूंत पुसल्या । उमटे न कंठी ।
मुका कामुक हा । निरोपा । सखि देई ।। २ ।। Translation:
Your beloved departs,
Give him farewell, my friend.
(Chorus)
For a departure whence there is no return,
For that going, give him farewell, my friend.
Wiped away by tears, it rises not in his throat,
This silent lover's farewell, give it, my friend.
(He kisses her. "Come, sound the war-horn!" He exits with the soldiers.)
Sulochana: (Waking with a start) What! These war-horns! (Fumbling with her hands) Vallabha—awaken me—give me your hand— (Starts up) What? Has Vallabha gone? Or had he never come? Or was it all a dream?
Nalini: What is this, a rebirth? My friend, come, let me first embrace thee tightly! Devi, be not confused. Vallabha truly did come. But, unable to bear the excess of that sudden joy, you fell into a swoon and lay so insensible that we began to lament, thinking you had departed from us forever, when suddenly, to the north, a fierce assault was launched upon our army by the enemy! A great tumult of battle rages there. Thereupon, Vallabha plunged into it.
Sulochana: And left me thus? Did he deceive me when I asked him to awaken me for battle?
Nalini: What would they know that people rise from death for battle?
Sulochana: He knew! I had made such a pact with Death, even as I stepped into the doorway of its swoon, that Death should grant me a momentary respite just for this final battle, and allow me to fulfill my desire to share a couch with my Vallabha, even upon the battle-bed.
Nalini: Hark, has that tumultuous wave of battle penetrated your camp?
Sulochana: Why do you merely look? Let me draw this sword and leap into it!
Nalini: But you are weary from your swoon—
Sulochana: Has it not yet dawned upon you? Not weary from swoon. I am dead by death. But have you not heard that even after their heads are severed, brave warriors' headless torsos fight? Nalini, so shall this my headless torso fight, taking revenge for the Shakyas, striking off the heads of the enemy, hewing and striking, it shall go wherever Vallabha may be.
Nalini: Then change this woman's attire. Again into the former male disguise—
Sulochana: Nay, the masquerade of that guise is ended. That guise fought; now I, myself, shall fight! Bhavani (goddess of war) fought in woman's attire. A brave woman's valour surges tenfold in battle in woman's attire. I shall fight in woman's attire.
Song:
Song Details:
Title: As Mahishasura-Mardini in battle
Tāla: | Chāl: Bolo Bolo Bolo Original:
महिषासुरमर्दिनी रणी जैशी ।। ध्रु.।।
मुक्त- खड्ग- कर ऐशी ऐशी। स्त्रीवेषातचि लढे भवानी ।
वीरसुता मी नीरवल्लभा ।। दुष्ट दैत्य दल वधिनचि तैशी ।। १ ।। Translation:
As Mahishasura-Mardini (Slayer of Mahishasura) in battle,
With sword unsheathed in hand, thus, thus,
Bhavani fought in woman's attire.
(Chorus)
I, daughter of heroes, bereft of my beloved,
Shall similarly slay the host of wicked demons!
Nalini: Be watchful, my friend! The enemy!
(At that moment, Kosala soldiers enter, crying, "Victory to Kosala! Plunder, strike!")
All Soldiers: Strike! Kill!
One Soldier: But she is a woman.
Another Soldier: But she is a Shakya.
All Soldiers: Therefore, kill!
Sulochana: And she is a warrior, therefore kill!
(Battle ensues.)
All Soldiers: Victory to Kosala!
(They fight with roars.)
Sulochana and Nalini: Revenge for the Shakyas!
(They fight with roars.) (Some soldiers are killed, some retreat, and all exit, fighting.)
Scene 6
(Chand, the Commander, enters from one side, and his followers from the other.)
Chand: What? Are these all the remaining soldiers of our army?
Anuchar: Aye; Kosala Commander Chand Mahashay (Sir), as per your command, these Kosala soldiers, who survived the battle on this dreadful night and were scattered across the battlefield, have been secretly gathered and brought forth. The enemy ranks have also been utterly decimated. The former Shakya general, Sulochan, was in fact Vallabha’s wife, Sulochana. This you have already learned. That woman—
Chand: Woman? In the ambush we laid this night, all the Shakyas indeed fought with utmost valour; but if anyone truly displayed prowess among them all, it was that woman! In male attire, she fought like Death itself; then, reverting to a woman, like a witch! When, even in the darkness, I recognised and struck Vallabha with a mortal blow, I then saw her, wounded yet fighting fiercely, in the distant light. Later—
Anuchar: She must have fallen lifeless there. Among the entire Shakya army, only one Vikramsinh, though himself wounded, was seen roaming the battlefield with some followers, like a blood-lusty tiger, pursuing us with the torch of battle still aflame. The rest of the Shakya army has been cut down; Commander Chand! And our own—
Chand: The Shakyas fought with such unexpected valour today! Had they fought thus from the outset of the war, we would not have dared to invade them. Nevertheless, I have fulfilled the mission given by His Majesty. The last of the Shakya army has been annihilated. I believe I should take with me another invaluable prize, worthy of offering at the feet of His Majesty Vidudbha, even more than this victory, before proceeding thither. Mark this: if the very trace of the Shakya name is to be erased, then that Buddha must disappear. Be not startled, for even today, he could sow hatred against us in the hearts of thousands from other castes, for Kosala’s treachery against the Shakyas; indeed, he might already be doing so. Therefore, I had intended to slay him in this very ambush; my endeavour to achieve that purpose still does not release me.
Anuchar: But to escape from here with our lives is itself difficult.
Chand: If the Shakyas cease fighting, then we shall not transgress the word of Bhagavan (Lord) Buddha and shall make a treaty with the Shakyas; hence, we had previously sent him an alluring invitation for Buddha to come and dissuade the Shakyas from senseless violence. And Buddha, beguiled by this, had agreed to come here this very night. Before dawn, he is still likely to come along this path from the hill to that monastery yonder. Until then, let us lie in wait. If he does not come, we shall escape at daybreak. But if he comes, ah, then! I shall sever his head and crown this Shakya victory! Then, even if we remaining warriors perish in that cause, it matters not. His simple-minded and weak counsel, born of contempt for the force of arms, made the Shakyas simple-minded and proved useful to us. But now, it is expedient not to keep alive him who makes Kosala itself simple-minded. Come! Let us lie hidden by that path beyond these scattered corpses and mounds.
(They exit.)
Sulochana: (Entering, blood-stained, hair dishevelled) In this darkness, as far as my sight reaches, I have searched every corpse on this battlefield, but my Vallabha (Beloved), wounded and fallen, is yet nowhere to be seen. When my Nālini (personal name/endearment) perished in battle, from somewhere here rose the roaring challenge of that hero, that Vallabha of mine. My life! Thy task of avenging the Shakyas, as far as possible, is complete. Now it is true that I should let thee go. But my life, for a moment, just for a moment, hold on! Once I have applied the dust from the feet of my Vallabha, fallen on the field of battle, then I shall cast off this body and, my life, consider thee freed.
(Gazing at the corpses.) Vallabha, Vallabha! There remains no one human to ask for information! Ye gods, deities, spirits, ghosts, forest-deities, war-deities, ye who hear these human questions of my mind, tell me! Where lies the wounded body of the Shakya Commander, Virsinh Vallabha! Vallabha, we were to share the battle-bed together, were we not? Then where art thou alone; I have come to keep thee company, wait a moment, Vallabha! Vallabha—
Vallabha: (Rising slightly from the battlefield) What is this cry of Sulochana! She had reached the other shore of death, leaving me behind, had she not? Am I then so near to death that I can distinctly hear the call from death's other shore? How swiftly the boat of unconsciousness bears me across the Vaitaraṇī (mythological river of death)!
Sulochana: Vallabha, art thou anywhere here! Vallabha—
Vallabha: Oh, my beloved Sulochana! Is this truly thou?
Sulochana: (Running towards him) Yes, my dear, it is I, my Nath (Lord)! It is I, your Sulochana, who pursued you relentlessly! When you laid me down, dead from your lap, and departed alone for battle, I was so startled that I awoke even from death, and true to my vow, striking and wounding the enemy in your wake, I have returned to your feet. Companion of the bed of love, grant me a place on this battle-bed too, wilt thou not? This is my last plea—
Song:
Song Details:
Title: Aṅganā ratiraṅgī
Chāl: Abarit bhar āī Original:
अंगना रतिरंगी । शेजारी रतिशेजेची । रण शेजेसहि घेई रणरंगी ।। ध्रु.।।
जाग जीतुनी येणे नाही । गाढ झोप ती येते पाही ।
सरक जरा मज निजु दे संगी ।। १ ।। Translation:
Oh, companion of love's sport, of love's soft bed,
Receive me too upon this battle-bed, in battle dread.
(Chorus)
No waking will there be from this victorious sleep,
A slumber profound, behold, doth o'er me creep.
Move close, a space beside thee let me keep.
Sulochana: Look not at me; embrace me not one last time!
Vallabha: My life-breaths, draw forth the dwindling flame of my senses but once more. In its flicker, let me see my beloved, feel her, perceive her!
Sulochana: Ah, my love, how soft and enchanting this battle-bed feels, like that bed of love born of desire and duty!
Vallabha: For this reason, that bed of love, desirable though it was, was as auspicious and meritorious as this battle-bed of dharma (righteous duty).
Sulochana: By such a death, our lives have found fulfilment. Our story has reached a happy end.
Vallabha: Whether any event concludes happily or tragically depends upon what we consider happiness. To fight unto death for the welfare of the people was our wish yesterday; that it has been fulfilled, makes even death a happy end! Ah! Sulochana, art thou near? My life—this is the last call, Sulochana—
Sulochana: And this is the last, oh! Oh Vallabha!
(She collapses, her head upon his breast, just as Vikramsinh and soldiers enter with hilāl (crescent sword).)
Vikram: A sound came from somewhere here. Hmm, come this way, let us see! Ah, this is my brave son, the brave general of the Shakyas, Vallabha, and alas, alas! Nay, thrice blessed! This is my daughter-in-law, Vallabha’s Vallabhā, the war-deity (raṇadevată) of the Shakyas, Sulochana! Bravo, my child! When, in the carnage of this night’s battle, I learned that the young warrior Sulochan in this Shakya army was none other than my daughter-in-law, Sulochana, the joyful wonder I felt seeing thee fight like a descending lightning bolt is now doubled with delight and astonishment to behold thee here, like a lightning bolt held by some magic, embracing thy beloved even on the bed of death, lying lifeless! Oh, the devoted marital duty (naiṣṭhika kāmacharya) of these heroic lovers, male and female, is not one whit less in sanctity than the devoted celibacy (brahmacharya) of an ascetic; in beneficence, it may even be slightly more! That Devi Yashodhara is called a renunciant foremost female disciple (Agraśrāvikā), a great nun (Mahābhikṣuṇī) among the Shakyas, is fitting indeed. But the renunciation, self-control, and devotion to duty of this young maiden, Sulochana, this worshipper of Kāmadeva (god of love), are as intense as those of that great Devi Yashodhara, and her martyrdom (hutātmatā) is truly extraordinary! Oh, ye worshippers of Kāmadeva, what can be more selfless, detached, and unattached than such auspicious, desire-filled devotion to union as yours! My brave, virtuous, beautiful daughter-in-law, child Sulochana, this last embrace given to thy great hero Vallabha on the death-couch, this final desirable sacrament of Kāmadeva's worship for you both, is as auspicious as any religious rite of deity worship; it is holy; it is conducive to the welfare of all young maidens (kanyaka) and youths (kumāra).
Chand: (Crouching, peering forward with his soldiers) Naik (Leader), there are not so many men with this Vikram as you said. There are only as many as ourselves. And he is wounded, so what are you waiting for? Before the Buddha, crush the throat of this prey (mṛgayā), which has walked into our mouths, with your teeth like a hawk!
(Shouting, "Victory to King of Kosala! (Kośaleśvar Mahārāj kī Jay!)" they fall upon Vikram.) O oath-breaker (vratabhraṣṭa) Vikram, I was searching for thee! Take this!
(He strikes.)
Vikram: O wicked Chand, I too was searching for thee! Take this!
(He strikes.)
Buddha Disciple: (Entering with the Buddha) Ha! Ha! Tathāgata Bhagavān Buddha (The Enlightened, Blessed Buddha) counsels both of you to be calm. For he has come to establish peace.
Chand: Away! Wouldst thou snatch a deer from a lion's mouth?
(He rushes at Vikram.)
Buddha: (Supporting Vikram) Vikram, Commander Chand is battle-crazed (raṇonmat). Anger, like an enraged serpent, becomes uncontrollable for anyone. But you are wise. You know our religious aphorism (dharma sūtra): ‘Akrōdhēna jiyēt krōdham | Asādhum sādhunā jiyēt |’ (Conquer anger with non-anger; conquer the evil with good.)
Chand: What, vile Buddha, dost thou call me evil (asādhu)? Dost thou call the Kosala Commander evil? I shall cut off thy tongue, take this!
(He advances upon the Buddha.)
Vikram: (Striking Chand and wounding him, then felling him and planting his foot on his chest) Bhagavān, has his anger been appeased by your non-anger at least? Or has he, conversely, grown more frenzied? If this sword, protector of the good (sādhuparitravāṇa), had not intervened, the righteous Buddha would now have been slain by the wicked (duṣṭa) Chand.
Buddha: But whatever has happened, such killing does not become you; you are an ascetic (saṁnyāsī)!
Vikram: And precisely for that reason, the first and most fatal blow to sever the head of this incorrigible public menace (loka kaṇṭak) must be struck by this very renounced sword of mine! It has been struck; I have finally slain this villain (chaṇḍāḷa) myself. This body of mine, weakened by wounds from battle, will fall in half a moment. But it will fall now with even greater fulfilment! Ah! By the spurting splashes of his blood, my ascetic garb and this renounced sword of mine—
Buddha: Have been stained by a sinful blackness (kāḷibhyāne) that can never be washed away.
Vikram: Bhagavān, come into the light of reality and look closely, for any with eyes can tell that this is a brilliant red colour, not black. Stained by the red blood of that wicked man, the original sickly, pale yellow of this ascetic's demeanour has vanished, and it appears vibrant, crimson, and radiant like the rising sun! In forty years of unarmed asceticism (niḥśastra saṁnyāsa), I could not accumulate as much beneficence (paropakāra) and merit (puṇya) as I have gathered in this single moment by wielding this ascetic’s weapon, granting life to countless innocent souls. If readiness for public welfare is the worldly duty of an ascetic, then I have never performed it with such intensity as I have today. Therefore, today I truly appear as an ascetic and a monk.
Buddha: O Mahāmanā (Great-souled one) Vikram, though your logical argument (koṭikram) may seem unassailable from the perspective of worldly gains and losses (aihik lābhālābh), from an otherworldly (pāralaukik) standpoint, you have deviated today from the great vow (mahāvrata) of non-violence (ahiṁsā), in accordance with the ascetic's dharma, which you had taken. Thereby, a desireless (vitṛṣṇa), supremely wise (param jñānī), and foremost renunciant monk (tyāgī bhikṣu pravar) like you, though very near to Nirvāṇa (liberation/enlightenment), has today fallen from Nirvāṇa (Nirvāṇachyut).
Vikram: If I am denied the state of Nirvāṇa for this fault of slaying this wicked man to avert the violence against countless innocent men and women that would ensue from Chand’s tyranny, then I condemn (dhikkār) such Nirvāṇa. That which is obtained only by aiding the oppression of millions of people is not Nirvāṇa but hell (naraka).
Dharma: (Manifesting) But O great practitioner of Karma Yoga (Mahākarmayogin), hero, you have not fallen from Nirvāṇa. On the contrary, by this very martyrdom, you have attained the state of Nirvāṇa. For,
Dvāvimau puruṣau loke Sūryamaṇḍalabhedinau | Parivrāṭ yogayuktaścha raṇe chābhimukhe hataḥ || (Two kinds of men in this world pierce the solar orb: The wandering ascetic (parivrāṭ) devoted to Yoga, And he who is slain in battle, facing forward.)
Vikram: O divine being, who art thou? A god or an angel (Devdūta)?
Dharma: I am Dharma, the foundation (dharmādhishṭhān) of all human righteousness. O Buddha-deva, you are supreme among wandering ascetics! Humanity (mānuṣakāvar) owes you infinite gratitude. This Shakya nation and this Shakya race have perished today, but they passed away after fulfilling their chief life’s work. For they gave birth to Tathāgata Buddha! And therefore, in a sense, they are immortal. Gods and demons, yakṣas (nature spirits) and takṣakas (serpent-demons), Āryas (noble ones) and Anāryas (non-noble ones), all of humanity, from islands to continents, shall seek out this your birthplace as the most sacred land, to offer their floral oblations of devotion (bhaktibhāvāchyā puṣpāñjali) here. The histories of this Shakya race shall be studied like religious epics (dharmapurāṇā sārakhe); kings and emperors shall cast their crowns, and the seven seas their rubies and pearls, before your image. Millions upon millions of human heads, which have not bowed before any man’s feet, shall humbly bow before the feet of your meditative image for ages to come. O wandering ascetic, great karma-renunciant Buddha, you are indeed worthy of the state of Nirvāṇa; but O hero, great practitioner of Karma Yoga Vikram, you too are worthy of that same state of Nirvāṇa! For, to achieve the ultimate good of humanity, which is the chief essence of Dharma, you renounced everything and fought for public welfare (lokakalyāṇārth) in direct combat, slaying those who harm the people! You did not even flinch from sacrificing your own life (prāṇatyāg). Unfortunately, your memory as an individual will not endure like the Buddha’s. But fame is often a matter of chance; it is not the sole indicator of merit. And the terrible penalty that this Shakya race has had to pay for this oblivion of your Karma Yoga’s greatness, how this feeble Shakya nation fell prey to the violence of powerful villains due to its neglect of armed strength and the extreme asceticism of agriculture, women, and the sword (kṛṣi, kāminī, kṛpāṇ), so too, and for almost the same reasons, will this entire Āryāvarta (ancient India) fall prey to the demonic invasions of Yavanas, Huns, and Shakas (yavana-huṇa-śakāṁchyā rākṣasī ākramaṇāsa). This destruction of the Shakya nation today is merely a premonition of the grave danger that will befall the entire Āryāvarta in the future. It is merely a preliminary experiment conducted by Time on a small scale. Hero Vikram, adopting the auspicious, power-worshipping Karma Yoga (śubha kāmī śaktipūjak karmayoga) that you preached and practiced, which contains all the worldly and otherworldly benefits of inactive asceticism yet is supremely beneficial for the people, is the means to liberation from the clutches of that danger. Since the true nature and objective of Dharma, which is the worldly and otherworldly sustenance and salvation of humanity, is achieved to a greater extent through such Karma Yoga, O humanity, my definite and best opinion is that although—
Saṁnyāsaḥ karmayogaścha niḥśreyasakārāvubhau || Tathāpi -- tayostu karmasaṁnyāsāt karmayogo viśiṣyate || (Renunciation and the path of action both lead to supreme good. Yet, of the two, the path of action is superior to the renunciation of action.)
[End of Play]