Next day I started with my ox‐wagons and took
the law‐courts. In doing so I
my
urs’ travel, however, I
y
a fresh horse and, wrapped in
e co
r the road we had just travelled.
I
f
s, half
by the unexpected feeling of a
ing
ly past.
inī had pulled the old prayer‐bell and this
ad s
n
care that it should be at the hour when people were on
their way to the bazaar or to
intentionally chose the most frequented streets so that
departure could not possibly remain hidden from my
enemy Sātāgira. After only a few ho
halted in a large village and had my caravan go into night‐
quarters there, to the great delight of my people. Shortl
before sunset I mounted
th
arse cloak of one of my servants, rode back to
Kosambī ove
Night had fallen and it was quite dark by the time
reached the Simsapā wood. As I carefully guided my horse
between the tree‐trunks, I was welcomed by the intoxic‐
ating fragrance of the blossoms of the night‐lotus, which
rose to greet me from the ancient Krishna pond.
Very soon the crumbling roof of the temple, with
its swarming images of gods and its jagged and tangled
outlines, began to show against the starlit heavens. I was
at the appointed place. Scarcely had I swung myself out o
the saddle when my friends were at my side. With a cry of
rapture, Vāsitthī and I rushed into one another’s arm
beside ourselves with the joy of meeting again. All my
recollections now are of caresses, stammered words of
endearment and assurances of love and fidelity, which
absorbed us utterly.
I was rudely startled
w
that softly fanned my cheek as it brushed light
This, together with the hoot of an owl which immediately
followed the jarring clang of a cracked bronze bell,
had the effect of completely rousing me from my
love‐trance. Med
h
cared the owl from the recess in which she dwelt.
The good‐hearted girl had done it not so much to summo
the saintly woman, as because she saw that that
56
formidable person was already coming out of the sanctu‐
ary, plainly indignant that she should hear voices within
reat
n —
e lap of
time. The holy woman raised her glance searchingly to‐
wards the heavens and gave it as her opinion that, as the
Pleiades occupied a particularly favourable position with
regard to the Pole Star, she had good reason to hope that
the spirits would not refuse their help; upon which she
invited Somadatta and Medinī to enter the House of
Krishna, the Sixteen‐thousand‐one‐hundredfold Bride‐
groom, who delighted in granting to a pair of lovers the
inmost wishes of their hearts.
Vāsitthī and I, however, as the supposed atten‐
dants, remained outside. How we now assured one an‐
other, with the most solemn oaths, that only the All‐
destroyer, Death, should be able to part us. Avidly we
spoke of my speedy return as soon as the rainy season
was over, and discussed ways and means by which her
extremely rich parents should be brought to consent to
our union.
How all of this was intermingled with innumerable
kisses, tears and embraces, I could not now describe to
you with even an attempt at truth, for it abides with me
only as the remembrance of a vague dream.
Still less can I, if you yourself have not lived
through a similar experience, give you any idea of the way
in which, in every embrace, sweetest rapture and heart‐
rending despair clasped each other close. For each embrace
reminded us that the last for this time would soon
the sacred precincts although no‐one had either rung or
knocked.
Medinī informed the ancient woman that her g
reputation for holiness and the report of her marvellous
knowledge had brought herself and this young ma
pointing to Somadatta — to seek her, in order to receive
information about what was as yet concealed in th
57
come, and who could give us the ssurance that it would
not then be the very last for all time?
All too soon, Somadatta and Medinī came forth
from the temple. The saintly woman wished to reveal the
future to us now also, but Vāsitth shrank from the
thought.
“How could I bear it,” she exclaimed, “if a future
that portended disaster were to b unveiled!?”
“But why just portending disaster?” said the well‐
meaning old woman, whose life experiences, presumably
as the result of her sanctity, had probably been happy
ones. “Perhaps for the servant also, happiness waits,” she
added, with a look brimming with promise.
But Vāsitthī was not to be allured; sobbing, she
clung around my neck. “Oh my love!” she cried, “I feel the
future’s inexorable face glaring down upon us. I feel it — I
shall never see you again.”
Although these words caused an icy chill to creep
over me, I tried to reason her out of this groundless fear;
but simply because it was groundless my most eloquent
words availed little or nothing. The tears rolled in an
unbroken stream over her cheeks
with a
of
divine love she caught my hand and pressed it to her
breast.
“Even if we should never again see each other in
this world, we shall still remain faithful; and when this
short and painful life on earth is ended, we shall find one
another in Paradise and, united there, enjoy the bliss of
heaven forever... O Kāmanīta, promise me that. How
much more will that raise me up and strengthen me than
any words of comfort! For these are as powerless against
the inevitable stream of karma already surging towards us,
as reeds before the waters of a flooding torrent. But
sacred, deep‐seated resolution is all‐powerful, and capable
of bringing forth new life.”
a
ī
e
, and
look
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