The Little Clay Cart by Sudraka (best classic romance novels TXT) 📕
- Author: Sudraka
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Maitreya. Madam, you are simply repeating what somebody said before.
Maid. While we are looking for him, pray take this golden casket. [She displays the casket. Maitreya hesitates.] Sir, you examine it very closely. Did you ever see it before?
Maitreya. No, madam, but the skilful workmanship captivates the eye.
Maid. Your eyes deceive you, sir. This is the golden casket.
Maitreya. [Joyfully.] Well, my friend, here is the golden casket, the very one that thieves stole from our house.
Chārudatta. My friend,
Her stolen treasure to restore,
Is practised now on us. But no,
I cannot think 't is really so.39
Maitreya. But it is so. I swear it on my Brahmanhood.
Chārudatta. This is welcome news.
Maitreya. [Aside to Chārudatta.] I'm going to ask where they found it.
Chārudatta. I see no harm in that.
Maitreya. [Whispers in the maid's ear.] There!
Maid. [Whispers in Maitreya's ear.] So there!
[89.19. S.
Chārudatta. What is it? and why are we left out?
Maitreya. [Whispers in Chārudatta's ear.] So there!
Chārudatta. My good girl, is this really the same golden casket?
Maid. Yes, sir, the very same.
Chārudatta. My good girl, I have never let the bearer of welcome news go unrewarded. Take this ring as your recompense. [He looks at his finger, notices that the ring is gone, and betrays his embarrassment.]
Vasantasenā. [To herself.] I love you for that.
Chārudatta. [Aside to Maitreya.] Alas,
Why should he set his heart on longer life?
His angers and his favors fruitless fall,
His purposes and powers are all at strife.40
Like fangless snakes—the poor are like to these.41
Like empty wells—the poor are like to these.
For them no pleasant hours serve happy ends;
They are forgotten of their sometime friends.42
Maitreya. But you must not grieve thus beyond reason. [He bursts out laughing. Aloud.] Madam, please give me back my bath-clout.
Vasantasenā. Chārudatta, it was not right that you should show your distrust of me by sending me this pearl necklace.
Chārudatta. [With an embarrassed smile.] But remember, Vasantasenā,
Suspicion now is sure.
This world will show no ruth
To the inglorious poor.43
P. 152.4]
Maitreya. Tell me, girl, are you going to sleep here to-night?
Maid. [Laughing.] But good Maitreya, you show yourself most remarkably plain-spoken now.
Maitreya. See, my friend, the rain enters again in great streams, as if it wanted to drive people away when they are sitting comfortably together.
Chārudatta. You are quite right.
As lotus-shoots the soil;
And tears the face of heaven shroud,
Who weeps the moon's vain toil.44
And again:
But merciless as darts that Arjun hurls,
And black as Baladeva's cloak, the heaven
Seems to pour out all Indra's hoarded pearls.45
See, my belovèd, see!
And fanned by cool and fragrant evening airs;
Red lightning, glad in union, clasps the sky
With voluntary arms, and shows on high
The love that maiden heart to lover bears.46
[Vasantasenā betrays her passion, and throws her arms about Chārudatta. Chārudatta feels her touch, and embraces her.]
Chārudatta.
For by thy grace and power
My love-distracted limbs now bloom
Like the kadamba flower.
Her dear touch all my being thrills,
And love my inmost spirit fills.47
Maitreya. Confound you, storm! You are no gentleman, to frighten the lady with the lightning.
[91.20. S.
Chārudatta.Do not rebuke the storm, my friend.
The lightning quiver, and the thunder peal;
For what I deemed impossible is sure:
Her dear-loved arms about my neck I feel.48
And oh, my friend,
Whose love comes to him from afar,
Whose arms that dearest form enfold,
While yet with rain 't is wet and cold.49
Vasantasenā, my belovèd,
The awning, that 't will not much longer hold.
Heavy with water is the painted wall,
From which dissolving bits of mortar fall.50
[He looks up.] The rainbow! See, my belovèd, see!
As by a tongue, by forkèd lightning riven;
And to the sky great Indra's fiery bow
In lieu of high-uplifted arms is given.51
Come, let us seek a shelter. [He rises and walks about.]
On thickets still,
On boulders dashing,
On waters splashing,
Like a lute that, smitten, sings,
The rainy music rings.52
[Exeunt omnes.
[60] In Indian love poetry, the rainy season is the time when lovers most ardently long to be united.
[61] In allusion to Vishnu's name, Krishna, "black."
[62] A gesture of respect.
[63] The goddess of wealth and beauty, usually represented with a lotus.
[64] Kāma's (Cupid's) arrows are flowers.
[65] Throughout this scene, Vasantasenā's verses are in Sanskrit. Compare note 1 on page 73.
[66] The cry of the heron resembles the Sanskrit word for "rain." Indian love-poetry often paints the sorrow, even unto death, of her whose beloved does not return before the rainy season.
[67] The elephant of Indra. Indra is the god of the thunderstorm.
ACT THE SIXTH THE SWAPPING OF THE BULLOCK-CARTS[Enter a maid.]
Maid.
Isn't my mistress awake yet? Well, I must go in and wake her. [She walks about. Vasantasenā appears, dressed, but still asleep. The maid discovers her.] It is time to get up, mistress. The morning is here.
Vasantasenā. [Awakening.] What! is the night over? is it morning?
Maid. For us it is morning. But for my mistress it appears to be night still.
Vasantasenā. But girl, where is your gambler?
Maid. Mistress, after giving Vardhamānaka his orders, Chārudatta went to the old garden Pushpakaranda.
Vasantasenā. What orders?
Maid. To have the bullock-cart ready before daylight; for, he said, Vasantasenā was to come—
Vasantasenā. Where, girl?
Maid. Where Chārudatta is.
Vasantasenā. [Embraces the maid.] I did not have a good look at him in the evening. But to-day I shall see him face to face. Tell me, girl. Have I found my way into the inner court?
Maid. You have found your way not only into the inner court, but into the heart of every one who lives here.
Vasantasenā. Tell me, are Chārudatta's servants vexed?
Maid. They will be.
Vasantasenā. When?
Maid. When my mistress goes away.
Vasantasenā. But not so much as I shall be. [Persuasively.] Here, girl, take this pearl necklace. You must go and give it to my lady sister, his good wife. And give her this message: "Worthy Chārudatta's virtues have won me, made me his slave, and therefore your slave also. And so I hope that these pearls may adorn your neck."
[94.3. S.
Maid. But mistress, Chārudatta will be angry with you.
Vasantasenā. Go. He will not be angry.
Maid. [Takes the necklace.] Yes, mistress. [She goes out, then returns.] Mistress, his lady wife says that her lord made you a present of it, and it would not be right for her to accept it. And further, that you are to know that her lord and husband is her most excellent adornment.
[Enter Radanikā, with Chārudatta's little son.]
Radanikā. Come, dear, let's play with your little cart.
Rohasena. [Peevishly.] I don't like this little clay cart, Radanikā. Give me my gold cart.
Radanikā. [Sighing wearily.] How should we have anything to do with gold now, my child? When your papa is rich again, then you shall have a gold cart to play with. But I'll amuse him by taking him to see Vasantasenā. [She approaches Vasantasenā.] Mistress, my service to you.
Vasantasenā. I am glad to see you, Radanikā. But whose little boy is this? He wears no ornaments, yet his dear little face makes my heart happy.
Radanikā. This is Chārudatta's son, Rohasena.
Vasantasenā. [Stretches out her arms.] Come, my boy, and put your little arms around me. [She takes him on her lap.] He looks just like his father.
Radanikā. More than looks like him, he is like him. At least I think so. His father is perfectly devoted to him.
Vasantasenā. But what is he crying about?
Radanikā. He used to play with a gold cart that belongs to the son of a neighbor. But that was taken away, and when he asked for it, I made him this little clay cart. But when I gave it to him, he said "I don't like this little clay cart, Radanikā. Give me my gold cart."
P. 158.10]
Vasantasenā. Oh, dear! To think that this little fellow has to suffer because others are wealthy. Ah, mighty Fate! the destinies of men, uncertain as the water-drops which fall upon a lotus-leaf, seem to thee but playthings! [Tearfully.] Don't cry, my child. You shall have a gold cart to play with.
Rohasena. Who is she, Radanikā?
Vasantasenā. A slave of your father's, won by his virtues.
Radanikā. My child, the lady is your mother.
Rohasena. That's a lie, Radanikā. If the lady is my mother, why does she wear those pretty ornaments?
Vasantasenā. My child, your innocent lips can say terrible things. [She removes her ornaments. Weeping.] Now I am your mother. You shall take these ornaments and have a gold cart made for you.
Rohasena. Go away! I won't take them. You're crying.
Vasantasenā. [Wiping away her tears.] I'll not cry, dear. There! go and play. [She fills the clay cart with her jewels.] There, dear, you must have a little gold cart made for you.
[Exit Radanikā, with Rohasena.
[Enter Vardhamānaka, driving a bullock-cart.]
Vardhamānaka. Radanikā, Radanikā! Tell mistress Vasantasenā that the covered cart is standing ready at the side-door.
Radanikā. [Entering.] Mistress, Vardhamānaka is here, and he says that the cart is waiting at the side-door.
Vasantasenā. He must wait a minute, girl, while I get ready.
Rad. Wait a minute, Vardhamānaka, while she gets ready.[Exit.
Vardhamānaka. Hello, I've forgotten the cushion. I must go and get it. But the nose-rope makes the bullocks skittish. I suppose I had better take the cart along with me.[Exit.
[96.14. S.
Vasantasenā. Bring me my things, girl. I must make myself ready. [She does so.]
[Enter, driving a bullock-cart, Sthāvaraka, servant to Sansthānaka.]
Sthāvaraka. Sansthānaka, the king's brother-in-law, said to me "Take a bullock-cart, Sthāvaraka, and come as quick as you can to the old garden Pushpakaranda." Well, I'm on my way there. Get up, bullocks, get up! [He drives about and looks around.] Why, the road is blocked with villagers' carts. What am I to do now? [Haughtily.] Get out of my way, you! Get out of my way! [He listens.] What's that? you want to know whose cart this is? This cart belongs to Sansthānaka, the king's brother-in-law. So get out of my way—and this minute, too! [He looks about.] Why, here's a man going in the other direction as fast as he can. He is trying to hide like a runaway gambler, and he looks at me as if I were the gambling-master. I wonder who he is. But then, what business is it of mine? I must get there as soon as I can. Get out of my way, you villagers, get out of my way! What's that? you want me to wait a minute and put
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