and sudden attack had not remained a mystery to us.
None other than the son of the inister of State (Sātāgira
was his hated name) with whom had wrestled on that
unforgettable afternoon in the park for Vāsitthī’s ball —
none other than he had set the hired murderers upon me.
Beyond a doubt he had noticed that I had remained
behind in town after the departure of the embassy and, his
suspicions having been thereb awakened, he had very
soon spied out my nightly visits to the Terrace.
*
*
Oh my fr
less was,
love, like a sunken island now. True, I would have
ain
or
M
I
y
*
iend, that Terrace of the Sorrow
to our
joyfully flung my life into the breach over and over ag
to be able to embrace my belovèd. But even if Vāsitthī had
had the heart to expose me every night to deadly danger
any such temptation was spared us. Sātāgira, in his low
cruelty, must have informed the parents of my sweetheart
of our secret meetings, for it was soon apparent that
Vāsitthī was carefully and jealously watched; besides
which, staying out on the Terrace after sundown was
forbidden to her — ostensibly on account of the danger to
her health.
Thus, then, was our love homeless. That which
most of all feels itself at home in secret, might only be so
now where the whole world looked on. In that public
garden where I first met the sight of her divine form, and
had searched for her several times in vain, we met once
tw
as if by chance. But what meetings they were!
ice
How
fleeting the stolen minutes! How hesitating and few the
hasty words! How forced the movements which felt
themselves exposed to curious or even spying glances!
Vāsitthī begged me to immediately leave this town in
which I was so threatened with deadly danger because of
52
her presence. She reproached herself bitterly for having
revailed upon me to stay, and thereby having all but
s even at this very
at
it
lone,
plished.
and, in
ll lov
n
p
driven me into the jaws of death. Perhap
moment in which she was speaking a fresh band of
assassins was being hired to slay me. If I did not depart
once, and so place myself beyond the reach of this peril, I
would make her the murderess of her belovèd. Suppres‐
sed sobs choked her voice, and I was obliged to stand
there without being able to enfold her in my arms or kiss
away the tears which rolled, heavy as the first drops of a
thunder‐shower, over the strained contours of her dusky
cheeks. Such a farewell I could not abide, and I told her
was not possible to leave without first meeting her a
in whatsoever way this might have to be accom
Just at that moment we were obliged to part owing
to the approach of several people; Vāsitthī’s face held a
despairing and beseeching look but it could not shake my
determination. Spurred on by longing for me and fear for
my life — and counselled moreover by her clever
a
e matters, experienced foster‐sister Medinī — I
trusted that the ingenuity of my belovèd would be certai
to find some way out of the difficulty. And I was not
deceived; for that very night Somadatta informed me of a
wonderfully promising plan of hers.
53
~ 8 ~
T
long
e
re
HE PARADISE BUD
A
LITTLE BEHIND THE eastern wall of Kosambī
lies a beautiful Simsapā wood which is, strictly speaking,
a sacred grove.
still stood,
In an open glade the temple sanctuary
though in a sadly dilapidated condition. It had been a
time since any sacrificial rite had taken place in this
ancient clearing because Krishna, to whom it was dedi‐
t and much larger temple built
cated, had had a magnificen
him
to
inside the town itself. In the ruin, however, there
dwelt, along with a pair of owls, a holy woman who
enjoyed the reputation of communing with spirits, by
whose help she was able to look into the future — and
such insight the good soul did not withhold from thos
who brought her votive offerings.
ch people made pilgrimages to her in large
Su
numbers; among them, and particularly after sunset, we
young couples who were in love. And there were not a
few malicious tongues that asserted that the old woman
r
should have been called a fortuneteller‐cum‐matchmake
rather than a saint. However that may have been,
this
saintliness was just what we needed and her little temple
was chosen as the place for our meeting.
*
*
*
55