Nagananda (Boyd 1872)/Act 4
ACT IV.
Then enter a Chamberlain carrying two red garments,
and a Doorkeeper.
Chamberlain.
I, who issue commands for the seraglio, who watch for trippings at every step, now, weak through old age, make my resemblance to a king perfect by handling a "danda."[1]
Doorkeeper.
O reverend Vasubhadra! whither are you going?
Chamberlain.
I am bidden by the queen, the mother of Mitrávasu: "O chamberlain! for ten days you should take red garments to Malayavatí and my son-in-law." Now the daughter is remaining in her father-in-law's household, and Jímútaváhana is gone to-day with the young king to see the sea-shore, as I have heard. Whether, then, shall I go to the king's daughter or to the son-in-law?
Doorkeeper.
Sir, you had better go to the princess, for perhaps by this time the son-in-law will have come there of his own accord.
Chamberlain.
You advise well. But whither are you yourself now going?
Doorkeeper.
I am commissioned by King Visvávasu to go and tell Mitrávasu, "Since in this festival of 'Dípa-pratipad'[2] some present should be given to Malayavatí and the bridegroom, therefore come and think of something suitable to the occasion."
Then enter Jímútaváhana and Mitrávasu.
Jímútaváhana.
A green glade for a couch, a white stone for a seat, a dwelling beneath the trees, the cool water of a cascade for drink, roots for food, the deer for companions,—in the forest which thus abounds in all that one could wish, unsought, there is this one fault, that, through the absence of suppliants, we live there to no purpose, having no opportunity of assisting others.
Mitrávasu (looking upwards).
Prince, hasten, hasten! It is time for the flow of the tide.
Jímútaváhana (listening).
You are right. An ear-deafening noise arises, made by the repeated flappings of the ears of the sea-monsters as they emerge, and causing the interiors of all the mountain caves to re-echo. Here comes the tide, white with the innumerable shells which it tosses on its waves.
Mitrávasu.
It is indeed come. See! this ocean tide is brilliant with its many-coloured gems, and has its waters scented by the eructations of the sea-monsters, who have fed on the young shoots of the clove-trees.[3]
Jímútaváhana.
O Mitrávasu! see again. These slopes of Malaya have all the splendour of the peaks of the snow mountains, by reason of the veils of white autumnal clouds.
Mitrávasu.
These are not the slopes of Malaya. These are heaps of the bones of Nágas.
Jímútaváhana (sorrowfully).
Alas! wherefore were they thus slain by wholesale?
Mitrávasu.
They were not slain by wholesale. Just listen to this: At this place Garuda[4] was in the habit of devouring one snake daily, catching it up from hell, whilst the whole contents of the ocean were cleft asunder from top to bottom by the wind of his wings.
Jímútaváhana (in a mournful tone).
Alas! his deed was most cruel. And then?
Mitrávasu.
Then Garuda was addressed by Vásuki,[5] who feared annihilation of the whole serpent race
Jímútaváhana (with respect).
Did he say, "Eat me first"?
Mitrávasu.
No, no.
Jímútaváhana.
What then?
Mitrávasu.
This is what he said: "Through fear of your furious descent, the embryos of the snakes are prematurely born by thousands, and the young ones perish; so that our continuous line of descent is cut off, and your own interests are destroyed. Therefore that snake, for the sake of which you make your descent into hell, I will send to you daily to this place."
Jímútaváhana.
How well were the snakes defended by their king! Amidst his thousand double tongues was there not one with which he could say, "Myself is given by me this day to save the life of a snake."
Mitrávasu.
This, then, was agreed to by the king of birds. So, these conditions being thus settled by the king of the Nágas, these are the heaps, white as the snow peaks, from the bones of the snakes, which the king of birds devours, and which have been increasing, do increase, and will increase as days go by.
Jímútaváhana.
Wonderful! Fools commit sin even for the sake of a worthless body, which soon perishes, is ungrateful, and is a store-house of all uncleanness. Well, this destruction of the Nágas will assuredly bring some judgment. (To himself.) Would that, by giving up my own body, I might save the life of a single Nága!
Then enters the Doorkeeper.
Doorkeeper.
I have ascended the mountain peak and will now seek Mitrávasu. (Walking about.) Here stands Mitrávasu with the bridegroom. (Going up.) May the princes be victorious!
Mitrávasu.
O Sunanda, why are you come? (Doorkeeper whispers in his ear.) O prince, my father has sent for me.
Jímútaváhana.
Go, then.
Mitrávasu.
The prince should not stay too long in this ill-omened region.
Jímútaváhana.
I will descend from this mountain peak and look at the searshore. (Walks about.)
Behind the scenes.
Alas! my darling son, Śankhachúda, how can I endure to see thee slain to-day?
Jímútaváhana (after hearing this).
Ha! a cry of distress as if from a woman! Who can it be? of what is she afraid? I will try to know.
Old Woman (with tears).
Alas! my son, Śankhachúda, how can I endure to see you slain this day? (Taking hold of his chin.[6]) Deprived of this moonface, Hades will become midnight.
Śankhachúda.
O mother, why do you harass me yet more by weeping?
Old Woman (looking at him and stroking his limbs).
Alas! my son! how will pitiless Garuda devour thy beauteous body, that has never felt the sun's rays?
Śankhachúda.
Enough of lamentation. See here—since mortality as the nurse first clasps the new-born child to its bosom, and the mother comes only second—what room is there for sorrow?
Old Woman.
O son, stay for a moment whilst I look on your face.
Servant.
Come, Prince Śankhachúda, never mind her words. Infatuated by affection for her son, she forgets the duty to our king.
Śankhachúda.
I am coming.
Servant (to himself, looking in advance).
I have brought him to the rock of execution; so I will now give him the distinguishing badge of one condemned to death.
Jímútaváhana.
This must be the woman that I heard—(looking at Śankhachúda)—and this must be her son. Why, then, does she weep? (Looks on all sides.) I do not perceive the very least cause for her fear. I will go near and see whence her fear is. Their conversation relates to it, perhaps from it I may get some explanation. I will get inside a bush and listen.
Servant (with tears, putting his hands together).
O Prince Śankhachúda, since it is the command of my lord, this so cruel message must be delivered.
Śankhachúda.
Say on.
Servant.
The king of the Nágas orders
Śankhachúda.
(putting his hands together to his head, respectfully).
What does our lord order?
Servant.
"Having put on this pair of red garments, mount upon the rock of execution, that Garuda, on seeing the red garments, may eat you."
Jimutavahana (having overheard).
How! Is he, then, abandoned by Vásuki?
Servant.
O prince, take then this pair of garments.
Śankhachúda (respectfully).
Give them to me. (Takes them.) The mandate of our lord is on my head.
Old Woman (having seen the clothes in the hand of her son,
striking her breast).
Alas! my child, this seems like a flash of lightning.
Servant.
The time for Garuda's approach is close at hand. I will be off.
Śankhachúda.
O mother, recover thyself.
Old Woman (coming to herself, tearfully).
Alas! my son, alas! thou obtained by a hundred vows! Where shall I again behold thee?
Jímútaváhana.
Alas! the pitilessness of Garuda. I should think that the heart of the lord of birds must be made of very adamant, if, casting away all pity, he can eat this child in his mother's lap, while she, distracted, utters vain complaints, with tears streaming from her eyes, and, glancing in all directions, pitifully repeats—"My child, who will deliver thee?"
Śankhachúda (checking his own tears).
O mother, where is the use of excessive grief? Do I not keep saying, "Cheer up," "Cheer up?"
Old Woman (with tears).
How can I cheer up, seeing that thou, my son, my only son, art banished by the compassionate king of the Nágas! Alas? why in the universal world was my son thought of? I am utterly unfortunate.
Jímútaváhana (dolefully).
If I do not protect this wretched one, who is at the very point of death, abandoned by his relations, then what good is there in my body? So I will go up to them.
Śankhachúda.
O mother, be comforted.
Old Woman.
Alas! my son, when you are given up by Vásuki, the protector of the Nága-world, who else will be your protector?
Jímútaváhana (going up).
Shall not I?
Old Woman (on seeing him, having hid her son with her
upper garment, goes up to him and falls upon her knees).
O son of Vinatá, destroy me. I am prepared for thy food by the Nága king.
Jímútaváhana (with tears).
Alas! the love of offspring! I should think that after seeing this sorrow of hers, arising from affection for her son, even the enemy of the Nágas, whose heart is pitiless, will feel pity.
Śankhachúda.
O mother, away with your fear, this is not the enemy of the Nágas. See the difference between this holy one, whose appearance indicates a beauteous nature, and Garuda, with his fierce beak smeared with clots of blood, which have dropped whilst he was piercing the brains of the mighty Nágas.
Old Woman.
In truth, through fear of thy death, I regard this whole world as Garuda.
Jímútaváhana.
O mother, what need of saying it again and again? Will not I accomplish his deliverance?
Old Woman (clasping her hands on her head).
My son, live long!
Jímútaváhana.
Mother, give me this distinguishing badge of a condemned one. I will put it on and offer to the son of Vinatá my own body as food, to save the life of thy son.
Old Woman (stopping her ears).
God forbid! Thou also art a son equally with Śankhachúda, or even more so than he, since thou wishest to preserve my son by giving up thy own body, even though he is deserted by his own kinsfolk.
Śankhachúda.
How different from the world in general is the mind of this magnanimous one! For this good man, moved by pity, gives up for the sake of another as though it were but a straw, that life, for the sake of which, in olden times, Viśvámitra[7] ate dog's flesh, like a dog-cooker; and Nádíjangha[8] was slain by Gautama, even though he had done a kindness to him; and this Garuda, son of Kaśyapa, daily eats Nágas. (Addressing the hero.) O magnanimous one, unfeigned compassion for me has been fully shown by thee in the determination to give up thyself; but do not obstinately insist on it. Low-born people like me are born and die; but whence are those produced like thee, who gird up their loins for the sake of others? What, then, is the use of this fixed determination? Let this resolution be abandoned.
Jímútaváhana.
O Śankhachúda, do not put any obstacle in the way of this desire of mine of giving myself up for the sake of another, which only now has got an opportunity of accomplishment, after so long a time. Do not, then, hesitate, but give me the distinctive badge of those appointed to be slain.
Śankhachúda.
O magnanimous one, where is the use of this fruitless perseverance? Never will Śankhachúda sully the family honour of Śankhapála, which is white as a shell. If we are indeed objects worthy of thy pity, then let some expedient be devised, so that this woman may not quit life, overcome by my calamity.
Jímútaváhana.
What can possibly be devised? She who dies in your death and lives only in your life,—if you wish her to live, save yourself by my life. This is the only remedy, so give me quickly the badge of death, that, having disguised myself in it, I may mount the execution rock. And do you, thinking of your mother before all, retire from your post. Probably your mother, if she stood in view of the place of execution, would abandon life. Do you not see the great cemetery, filled with many skeletons of the ill-fated Nágas? See here, rows upon rows of the crests of the slain Nágas, coated thick with oozing brains, splash as they fall from the jaws of the jackalls into the stream of carrion-smelling gore, while the scene is shrouded in awful darkness by the flapping wings of the vultures, their greed increased by the gobbets of raw flesh which fall mangled from their chattering beaks!
Śankhachúda.
How should I not see? This cemetery, which affords delight to Garuda, with a snake for his daily food, is like the body of Śiva, with its skulls and bones white as the moon.[9]
Jímútaváhana.
O Śankhachúda, go then. What is the use of these well-meant objections?
Śankhachúda.
The time for the approach of Garuda is close at hand. (Goes on his knees before his mother.) O mother, do you now go away. In whatever state we may be born again, mayst thou alone be my mother, O doting one!
Old Woman (with tears.)
How! Is this the very last speech? O son, my feet assuredly will not bear me from thee, therefore I will stay here.
Śankhachúda (rising).
After I have quickly walked round the southern Gokarna,[10] which is close at hand, I will carry out the command of my lord.
Jímútaváhana.
(having seen some one coming, joyfully, to himself).
Good luck! I have got what I wanted, through the unexpected acquisition of this pair of red garments.
Chamberlain (entering).
This pair of garments is sent by the Queen, the mother of Mitrávasu, to the prince. Let, then, the prince put them on.
Jímútaváhana (with respect).
Give them to me. (Chamberlain gives them,—to himself). My marriage with Malayavatí has borne good fruit. (Aloud.) You may depart. Let the Queen be saluted from me.
Chamberlain.
Whatever your highness orders.
Jímútaváhana.
The seasonable arrival of this pair of red garments gives me the greatest pleasure, inasmuch as I desire to give myself up for another. (Looking in all directions.) From the violence of this wind, which shakes the mighty rocks of the Malayan peaks, I suspect that the king of birds is now close at hand. See, the expanse of his wings obscures the sky, like the clouds at doomsday; the wind caused by his rush casts the waters of ocean on the shore, as if for another deluge; and,—raising an apprehension of the sudden ending of the world, and watched with terror by the elephants that support the earth,—with the refulgence of his body, which shines like the twelve suns.[11] he spreads a lurid red gleam over the ten quarters of the sky. Therefore now, while Śankhachúda is away, I will quickly mount the execution rock. (Does so and, sits down, starting as if enraptured.) Oh, the rapture of its touch! Not so much does Malayavatí delight me, moist with sandal-juice of Malaya, as this rock of execution, which I embrace to the furtherance of my desired object. Or rather—what need of mentioning Malayavatí? Not such joy is attained by one in childhood, lying peacefully in his mother's lap, as by me on the slope of this rock of execution. Here comes Garuda. I must veil myself.
Then enters Garuda.
Garuda.
Here I am, in a moment arrived on the shore side of the Malayan Mount, greedy to devour the Nága. When I saw the moon's disk, I was reminded of the form of Śesha[12] coiled up in a circle through fear. My elder brother[13] joyfully recognised me, when the sun was shaken by the sudden start of his chariot steeds as I passed. My long wings, as I fly, stretch out still longer by reason of the clouds, that hang from them in festoons.
Jímútaváhana (with joy).
Through the merit that I gain to-day, by protecting a Nága at the sacrifice of myself, may I still obtain, in succeeding existences, a body to be sacrificed for others![14]
Garuda (looking at the hero).
Speedily will I catch up and eat this Nága, dressed in red garments, who looks as if besmeared with blood, which gushes from his heart that has burst through fear of me. I will first split open with my beak, which is fiercer than the fierceness of a thunderbolt, the breast of this one, who has fallen on the surface of the execution rock, to save the rest of Nágas.
Behind the scenes flowers shower down, and drums sound.
Garuda (astonished).
Why now does this shower of flowers fall, rejoicing the bees with their fragrance? Or why does this noise of drums cause to re-echo the quarters of the sky? (Smiling.) Ah! I know what it is. I conjecture that even the tree of Paradise itself is shaken by the wind of my speed; and that the clouds of doomsday give forth their growl, anticipating the world's immediate annihilation.
Jímútaváhana (to himself).
Good luck! I have attained my desire.
Garuda (seizing the hero).
Although this protector of the Snakes seems to me more like a human being, still verily he shall satiate to-day my hunger for snake-flesh. So I will take him and ascend the Malayan mountain, there to eat him at my pleasure.
END OF THE FOURTH ACT OF THE NÁGÁNANDA.
- ↑ We have here a pun, as the word danda-níti means both "punishment and policy" and "the handling of a staff."
- ↑ "Dípa-pratipad" may mean the first day of the bright fortnight, or perhaps a festival corresponding to the Feast of Lanterns.
- ↑ Compare the passage in Indumati's Swayamvara, Raghuvanśa, vi. 57, where Sunandá recommends the princess to choose the King of Kalinga or Coromandel: "Wander with him on the banks of the ocean, resonant with the murmurs of the palm groves, while the summer heat is cooled by the breezes which bear the flowers of the clove-tree, wafted from other lands."
- ↑ Garuda, son of Vinatá and Kaśyapa, is the king of birds, like the fabled roc, and the ruthless enemy of the snakes or Nágas.
- ↑ Vásuki is king of the Nágas, and resides in the infernal regions.
- ↑ The Nágas are generally represented in old sculptures as bearing the human form, but with a snake attached to their backs and the hooded head rising behind their necks.
- ↑ Compare Manu x. 108, "And Viśvámitra, who knew right and wrong, resolved to eat a dog's thigh, taking it from the hand of a chandála.”
- ↑ For the story of Nádíjangha, see Maháb. xii. §§ 170–172.
- ↑ Śiva is often represented as wearing an elephant's skin and a necklace of skulls.
- ↑ Gokarna—there are two celebrated places of pilgrimage called Gokarna,—the northern one in Nepal, the southern on the Malabar coast. See Wilson’s "Essays on the Religion of the Hindus," ii. 16, 19. The manner of "walking round" was, to keep the right shoulder always towards the sacred place.
- ↑ Twelve suns or Ádityas. These twelve Ádityas are forms of the sun, who, according to the later mythology of the Hindus, had a different form for each month.
- ↑ Śesha is the thousand-headed snake which serves Vishnu as his couch and canopy.
- ↑ Aruna, who is the personified dawn, and charioteer of the sun.
- ↑ This wish, to a Buddhist, would seem the ne plus ultra of self-sacrifice, since to escape from the necessity of future birth, and to obtain nirvána, is the supreme end of their system.