In the Great God's Hair

lip pursed for a kiss. And at that very moment, the roof of that ruined arbour fell in and crushed them, and they died on the spot: awaking from their dream before they had time to kiss each other, as the king had feared. And who can tell, O Brahman, whether it may not be our lot also, to wake from the dream of our life, before there is time to wake from the illusion of our love? Footnotes ^56:u A fruit employed by Hindoo poets as we speak of 'cherry' lips. In the Great God's Hair, by F. W. Bain, [1905], at sacred-texts.com XIV. Love the Fisherman Then said Indra: O lady of limbs that are shaped like serpents sweeping and winding in curving coils, thy words are prophetic, and thy own dream is likely to prove but a short one, with a bitter awakening even in this life. What if this husband of thine should have left thee already, never to return? Then Wanawallari said with a smile: O Brahman, hast thou never seen a man of the caste of fishermen, fishing for little fishes in the water of Ganges? Once they have swallowed the bait, they cannot escape, being held fast by the cord. And then being caught, they are roasted by their captor at the flame of a fire, and devoured. Dost thou not know that the God of love has a fish for the sign on his [p. 58] banner? And why, save that he is himself a fisherman, who fishes for the hearts of men, using women for his bait? And so only last night he fished for my husband, and caught him, using me for his lure, and now the fish can no longer escape. For he has swallowed the bait, and the cord of no fisherman was ever so strong as that by which my husband is held by that Master Fisher, Love. For such is the cunning of that god, that so far from shunning the fire at which he cooks them, his fishy victims bask and rejoice in it: and the longer my husband has been away from me, the more and more certain his return, and the more intolerable to himself his absence. For now he resembles one frozen with the ice and snow of the Himalaya mountain, and very soon he will utterly perish, unless he comes back to warm his cold heart at the flame which Love keeps ever burning in my own. For know, that the heart of a loyal wife is the altar of Love, on which the sacred household fire ever burns. And it shines out in the darkness, to guide the travelling husband home: and in his absence, its pure beam on the black night resembles the streak made by gold on the dark touchstone of fidelity. And no fire goes out while there is still fuel to feed it: and mine is not yet utterly exhausted. Nor

[p. 59] was I so foolish as to let my husband leave me, without a security for his return. For know, O Brahman, that of all the Creator's creatures, there are only two that do not require to hunt for their legitimate prey, but wait quietly while it rushes to destruction in their toils of its own accord. And of these, one is a spider [*x], and the other is a woman. Footnotes ^59:x This word might also mean a fisherman, a 'netmaker.' In the Great God's Hair, by F. W. Bain, [1905], at sacred-texts.com XV. A Woman's Lord Then said Indra: O thou delicious lady, Love has cast his spell upon thee, or as thou sayest, caught thee on his hook; and now thou art like one who looks from afar upon the desert, and admires its delusive beauty, not knowing, by reason of inexperience, what its nature really is. And doubtless thou art right, and thy husband will hold thee fast, while the blossom of thy beauty is fresh and fragrant with morning dew; but when thou art worn and dusty in the heat of the day, beware! lest he should throw thee away. Thou dost not know what lies before the vagabond's wife. Then said Wanawallari: Brahman, she that [p. 60] chooses her own husband resembles a bold gambler, that stakes his all upon a single cast of the die. And if she has chosen lightly, guided only by frivolity and the desire of selfish pleasure, evil and woe will be her doom. But if she has made her choice not obeying her own inebriation but rather spell-bound and appropriated by the master spirit of her true husband and the fatal moment [*y] that brought her like a planet within his grasp, then poor is her nature and feeble her devotion if she be not prepared to follow him blindfold, and take all that fate in his form may involve in her lot. For she that leaves all behind her and comes at the call of her husband does so not out of pleasure, though the pleasure is supreme, but as it were against her own will, and simply because she cannot help it, because he is he. And thereafter nothing can befall her, for the fruit of her birth is obtained. For it is better for a woman to find her master, even if he should afterwards ill-use or desert her, than never to discover him at all. For every woman needs a lord, but many

[p. 61] never find him. But when she has found him, let him treat her how he will, she is his. But if she finds the wrong man, though he may treat her as a queen and adore her as a goddess, yet she never will love him and her heart will not be happy, because she is not his, and he cannot command her. For an elephant is held by a chain, and a woman by her heart; and the essence of her love is the sense of obedience; for no woman ever loves any man, unless she knows that he is her master to be obeyed without a murmur whether she will or no. Yet in this is no slavery, for she loves her chain, and likes to be dominated by the man she adores. And for every woman, happiness is misery, with the man who is not her true master: but misery is happiness with the husband who is. And no one but a woman can understand the indescribable pleasure of willing obedience to her lord; for it arises from the peculiarity of her nature which man does not share; for his nature is not to obey but command. And now, my husband is my lord, and I am his slave. And if he continue to love me, it is well: and if not, still it is well, for he cannot prevent me from worshipping him. For though the Creator may if he pleases drive away the swan from the lotus-haunted pool that he loves, he cannot with [p. 62] all his omnipotence deprive him of his desire of the pool. Nor can any destiny overpower the loyalty of a wife: for she whose devotion to her husband is diminished by circumstance or change was never his wife, but a stranger, joined to him by accident and error and called by a name that was never hers.

all his omnipotence deprive him of his desire of the pool. Nor can any destiny overpower the loyalty of a wife: for she whose devotion to her husband is diminished by circumstance or change was never his wife, but a stranger, joined to him by accident and error and called by a name that was never hers. Footnotes ^60:y The Sanskrit word lagna, meaning an astrological moment of planetary conjunction, has become, in modern Marathi, the common term for a marriage. It is, I believe, essential for a Hindoo marriage that the horoscopes of the bride and groom should correspond. In the Great God's Hair, by F. W. Bain, [1905], at sacred-texts.com XVI. A God abashed Then said Indra: O lady of swelling bosom and lofty soul, though thy husband has found in thee a jewel through no merit of his own, still thou canst not deny that he is a scorner of the gods, and therefore doomed to bring himself and thee also into disaster arising from their anger. Then Wanawallari rose up and stood before him. And she crossed her hands over her bosom, and lowered her long dark lashes over her eyes. And she said: Brahman, now I am a wife, and it may be shall soon be a mother, and many things I know now that yesterday were unknown to me. And now, let me ask thee a question. If I should have a son, and if, when he grew to be a man, in a moment of forgetfulness and anger due to evil fortune he should curse me as the author of his

[p. 63] misery: tell me, what would be my duty? Should I abandon and forsake him; or should I not rather forgive and condone his offence, considering it rather as the outcome of a moment of passion than the deliberate act of a hardened ill-doer? And she raised her lashes, and looked at him with clear irrefutable eyes that penetrated his soul, and waited for him to reply. And Indra was abashed before her, and could not meet her glance. And he struck his hands together, and exclaimed: O woman and wife, subtle-witted and silver-tongued, whose incomparable beauty is rendered irresistible by the soft love-light in thy young bride's eyes, I am conquered by thee, and thy husband is blest in thee: and well is it said, that a virtuous woman is higher than the gods. Know, that I came to punish thy husband, but thou hast redeemed him, and stood between him and the wrath of heaven. Take thy husband and lead him into the good path, which is thy own, and save him, if thou canst, from thy father's vengeance, as now from mine. And instantly he vanished from before her eyes, and flew up into the sky. And Water-lily saw him go: and she looked after him with triumph in her almond eyes, and laughter on her vermilion [p. 64] lips. But Wanawallari started, when she saw that illusive Brahman disappear. And she drew her breath, and stood, like a startled fawn, with wondering eyes and moving breast, while the colour came and went upon her cheek. And then she said to herself: It was as I thought, and that old Brahman was some deity, descending in a mortal form to try me. For his eyelids never moved [*z], and his body cast no shadow, and he knew all that had occurred to us as no mortal could have known it. But now, let me remember his words, and stand, if I can, between my husband and my father's anger. And as she spoke, she looked, and saw her husband coming quickly towards her along the street.

Footnotes ^64:z A peculiarity of gods, denoted by fixed epithets: as animisha, stabdha-lochana, one 'whose eyes are fixed,' 'who does not wink.' In the Great God's Hair, by F. W. Bain, [1905], at sacred-texts.com XVII. Nectar And then with a cry of joy, she ran towards him, while the colour leaped into her face. And he came towards her very quickly, and said: See, here is food, and wine, and a cup out of which we will drink together, and a lute for thee to play. But O! how beautiful thou art; and I am faint [p. 65] and hungry, but only for the nectar of thy arms and thy lips. And she put her arms round him, and they stood together for an instant, while their souls met rapturously after separation, hovering in agitation at the door [*a] of their thirsty lips. And then, after a while, she said: Come, thou art here, and thou art hungry, and so am I. Let us eat first, and then it may be, thou shalt kiss me again. But Ranga put his burden down, and took her in his arms. And he kissed her, till her lips turned pale, as if for fear lest her breath should abandon her. And then they sat together by the well, and eat and drank, kissing each other between every mouthful, and smiling with tears in their eyes, utterly forgetting their own names. Then when they had finished eating, they got up and wandered about in each other's arms, like a human symbol of myself [*b] and thee, watching the parrots screaming in the fig trees, and the monkeys climbing over the roofs of the deserted houses, and sighing by reason of excess of happiness, and laughing without a cause, while the day passed away like a flash of lightning, and the sun went to his rest in the mountain of his setting, and the

[p. 66] moon rose. And then Wanawallari said: Come let us go back, and find the wine, and we will have a drinking bout: thou shalt drink for both of us, and I will sing and play to thee on the lute, and dance with my shadow to attend me, to show thee my accomplishments [*c] and give thee pleasure in the light of the moon. So they did. And Ranga sat under the tree, with the cup of red wine in his hand, while she danced [*d] and played and sang to him, looking in the moonlight like a feminine incarnation of the camphor-essence and beauty of the moon come down to earth to entrance his soul and wean it from all care for earthly things. And he watched her with intoxicated eyes, and said to himself: Surely she is a portion of the celestial delight of heaven that has somehow assumed the form of a woman; or a piece of sky-crystal tumbled by accident to earth, laughing in its purity at the grossness of the materials by which she is surrounded! So they two delighted each other in that ruined [p. 67] city, bathed in the moonlight, and the ecstasy of the mutual infatuation of first love. But in the meanwhile, the jeweller, to whom Ranga had taken Wanawallari's bracelet, was filled with amazement when he saw it. And he said to himself: Where did this Rajpoot get such a jewel, which could not be matched in the city? So after buying it for a very low price, he followed Ranga without his knowledge, and saw him making purchases in the bazaar: and finally he dogged his footsteps at a distance, when he returned to the empty city. And when those lovers met, that curious jeweller looked round the corner of the street, and saw them. But they never noticed him, for they were lost in oblivion of everything in the world except themselves. Then still more astonished than before, the jeweller said to himself: The beauty of this woman exceeds that of all others as much as does that bracelet, which is doubtless hers, all other jewels of its kind: and now there must be a story in this matter. So after wafting a while, and watching them, he returned slowly and reluctantly to his own house. And when he got there he found the whole city in uproar. And when he enquired the reason, the people said: Somebody or other has come by night and carried away the King's daughter. And

[p. 68] there is a great reward for the man who can find out who took her, and where she is. And instantly the jeweller took his bracelet, and ran at full speed to the King's palace. And being admitted, he told his story and showed the bracelet. And the King recognised it as his daughter's; and sent, without a moment's delay, guards, who led by the jeweller, went as quickly as possible to the empty city. And while those lovers, forgetful of everything, were intoxicating each other's eyes in the moonlight, suddenly they heard a shout, and the King's guards rushed in and seized them, and carried them away prisoners to the King. But Water-lily saw them go. And she tossed her pretty head, and yawned. And she said: Now I have kept my promise to the gods, and caused the King to discover the hiding - place of these foolish lovers. And I have done enough for this fellow, and I am beginning to be tired of him. Strange! how soon these mortals pall on me! they have nothing permanently interesting about them, and any fancy that I have for them passes off like a shadow almost as soon as it arrives. But still, he is the best looking man that I ever saw. And so, I will do him one more good turn, and then leave him to shift for himself. Footnotes ^65:a Dantachada: precisely the Homeric erkos odontun. ^65:b Maheshwara loquitur. ^66:c There is a pun here: she compares herself to a digit of the moon.

^66:c There is a pun here: she compares herself to a digit of the moon. ^66:d Dancing is associated by the modern Hindoos with lax morality: but this cannot always have been the case, for in most Hindoo romances the heroine is accomplished in that art. In the Great God's Hair, by F. W. Bain, [1905], at sacred-texts.com [p. 69] XVIII. The Favour of Fortune So Wanawallari and her lover were carried quickly back to the palace, and brought in by the guards before the King. And when the King saw them, he clapped his hands: and he said: Ha! so the flown bird and her decoy are caged. And now, what shall be done to the daughter who brings disgrace upon her family by running away with strolling Rajpoots? Or what does the thief deserve who breaks into the palaces of kings by night and carries off their daughters and their choicest gems? Then said Wanawallari: O father, let not anger blind thee to justice. For though I have acted independently, I have done nothing, as thou shalt find, to disgrace either myself or thee. For know, that this husband of mine is, like myself, the child of a king, and even himself a king. And as for me, did not Draupadi and Damayanti choose their own husbands? And was not Shakuntala wedded to Dushyanta by the Gandharwa ceremony, and Bharata was their son? But the King said: Enough! O daughter! Thy husband shall die with the rising of the sun, however it may be with thee. Then said Wanawallari: Then wilt thou be the murderer of thy own flesh and blood: for he is

[p. 70] my husband, and I will die with him. And the King laughed. And he said: O my daughter, that art no longer my daughter, dost thou really think to persuade me that I am obliged to this Rajpoot for carrying thee away; or to thee, for causing scandal by running away with him, like an independent woman of no family, of thy own accord? Then said Wanawallari: O father, listen for a moment: and afterwards put us both, if thou wilt, to death, and not him alone. This is no common matter, and sure I am, that the deity has a hand in it. Tell me only this, for thou knowest me well: was I one to act lightly? And the King said with bitterness: It is that very thing which makes thy behaviour incomprehensible. For I thought thee another Sita: and lo! thou hast leaped from thy window into the arms of a wandering Rajpoot! Who can fathom the nature of women or the bottomless abyss of their frivolity? They talk to one man, and look at another, and think of a third [*e]. They are but deceit incarnate in a form of illusion. For four things are insatiable [p. 71] of four: ocean, of rivers, and death, of mortals, and fire, of fuel, and woman, of man. Then said Wanawallari: But one question I have to ask thee, and it is the last: Of whom didst thou destine me to be the bride: Was it not the King of Awanti? And the King said: Yes. Then Wanawallari took her husband by the hand. And she said: Here he is. And now I am his wife: and be sure, that the deity himself has brought this about. For know, that last night, this man climbed into my room. And I paused for a moment ere I gave him to the guards, for I pitied him for his beauty and his youth. And I said to him: Who art thou? And he said: I am the King of Awanti. And I started, and I listened to his story; and as I listened, he stole away my heart through my eyes and my ears. And I saw before me, not that hideous Rakshasa for whom I was destined as a victim of thy political necessity, but the God of Love in human form. And know, that rather than become the bride of that other, who has driven away my husband, and keeps by force a kingdom not his own, I would have thrown myself down from my window, and I looked upon myself as already dead. For I knew, that policy was thy first consideration, and that I must be

[p. 72] a sacrifice. And I looked upon him who is my husband, as I listened to his tale, as one sent by the deity himself, and as new life in the form of a man. For how could chance have brought into my window the very king to whom I was betrothed, if not by the express agency of the deity himself? Moreover, thy own interest was concerned: and if thou wilt let thy reason speak, I have done thee no injury, but a service. For why wouldst thou have had me the bride of that usurper, but to ally to thee the kingdom which he holds? And how art thou injured, if thou hast gained for the husband of thy daughter not the false king but the true? Do my husband right, and instead of putting him to death, help him to regain his throne: and thou shalt gain for a bad ally a good one: as I have gained for myself a good husband for a bad one: and a kingdom for all three of us. Then the King exclaimed in amazement: This is but an idle tale, concocted between thy lover and thyself to deceive me. And then Ranga spoke. And he said: O King, till now I have not spoken, for I would not beg my life, and I considered it as a thing gone past recall. But know, that as to what concerns myself, thy daughter has told thee nothing but the truth: and so far from arranging [p. 73] it together, she never told me anything about it, and all that concerns my uncle, and thyself, and her, is news to me, and I hear it for the first time. So now put me, if thou wilt, to death, or if thou wilt, keep me under guard, and make enquiry. And if it is not true, put me to a hundred deaths instead of one. Or lend me, if thou wilt, but a little force, and I will put myself upon my throne. For my subjects love me, and submit to my uncle only from necessity; and be sure, that he covets thy alliance only because he knows that he is weak, and cannot stand without support. So do according to thy will. Only visit not thy anger on thy daughter, for I only am to blame. And yet, I think that even I am not without excuse. Look at her as she stands, and blame me if thou canst; for even a god would fall if tempted by a beauty such as hers. Yet know, that it was accident and not intention that brought about our union. For I climbed up into thy tower, not knowing what was there. And now, I am in thy hands.

And as he spoke, Water-lily put beauty in his limbs and courage in his voice. And the King watched him, against his will, with admiration. And he said to himself: He says well, for my [p. 74] daughter might turn a sage from his devotion. And he himself is one, whom a maiden might be forgiven for admiring, for I have never seen a finer man. Certainly, if only the tale were true, he would make a son-in-law well fitted to my daughter. So when Ranga had made an end, the King stood looking at him under his brows, balanced in the swing of irresolution, between his anger, and his affection for his daughter, and the influence of the tale. And as he stood in silence, Wanawallari came and knelt at his feet. And she said: O father, do not kill him, but protect him, and it will be thy gain. But as for me, deal with me as thou wilt. For I have acted rashly, and I deserve only punishment and disgrace. I am only a weak woman, and his beauty carried me away. Yet know, that thy posterity is within me, and there stands the father of thy grandson. And dost thou think that such a man as that would beget a son to bring disgrace on thee and me? And she looked at her father, with tears falling from her eyes like rain. And they tell upon his anger, and melted it, and overcame him. And he took her in his arms, and kissed her, stroking her hair with his hand. And he said: Dear daughter, I cannot be thy enemy, even if I would, and the

[p. 75] tears in thy eyes have brought tears into my own. And if thou hast acted very rashly, I will not follow thy example. Let thy husband stay with me, and I will investigate the truth: and if it be as thou sayest, we will see what can be done for him. Then Wanawallari caught him round the neck with a cry, and wept upon his breast. And by the help of that King, Ranga regained his throne, and got Wanawallari for his queen. For a husband's fortune is the virtue of his wife. Footnotes ^70:e This is the ungallant opinion of Bhartrihari, based it may be on some fierce fiery pang of a jealous heart, long since gone to dust and ashes. In the Great God's Hair, by F. W. Bain, [1905], at sacred-texts.com XIX. The Triumph of Beauty And then, Water-lily left him, and quitted the earth, and flew up to heaven. And there she found all the gods assembled in Indra's hall. And instantly she began to mock them. And she exclaimed: Now you may see how vain it is for any or even all of you together to contend with me. For this Rajpoot has attained prosperity in spite of your dislike, by my favour; and as for Indra, he was utterly worsted by beauty, when he met it in the form of a mortal woman. And after having flouted them, she went away, laughing in triumph as she went, and casting back upon them over her shoulder glances out of the corner of her almond [p. 76] eyes that pierced the heart of the gods like poisoned needles.

eyes that pierced the heart of the gods like poisoned needles. And then they looked at each other, and said: We have all been made fools by this wicked Water-lily; and now this is utterly intolerable. And Indra said: Though that mortal scoffer, whom I forgave for the sake of his wife, was to blame, yet she will bring him back to his duty. But the real culprit in this matter is this mischievous goddess. For she took us all in by a show of submission, and has shown favour to a mortal who flattered her vanity, out of a capricious desire to tease and annoy us all. Therefore now we must punish and put a stop to her proceedings: for if she be allowed to go on, everything human and divine will be thrown into confusion. And now she is young, and capable of improvement: but unless she is kept in order, she will get worse and worse. Therefore we must look to it without loss of time. Thereupon they all came in a body to me [*f]. But I said to them: This is not my affair. Go to Narayana, if you have any complaint to make against Water-lily. For to punish the wife is the duty of none but the husband. And I sent [p. 77] them away. Thereupon the gods hunted through the universe for Narayana, but for a long time in vain. And then at last they found him alone in the very middle of the sea, lying on the leaf of a lotus as it floated about on the waves, sucking his left toe, and buried in meditation. And as they came and ranged themselves in silence before him, the adorable Hari politely took his toe from his mouth, and gazed at them curiously with great dreamy eyes, as much as to say: What do you want of me?

Then the gods, with Indra for spokesman, having first bowed respectfully before him, said: O Achyuta, we have come to complain to thee of the conduct of thy wife: who has made us all ridiculous by taking the part of a mortal that showered abuse on us, simply because he loaded her alone with flattery and praise. And she laughs in our faces into the bargain, though she is the youngest of us all. And now she has hidden herself somewhere or other and cannot be found. Therefore our prayer to thee is, that she may be taught by thee the due bounds of propriety and decorum, and respect for her elders. For our dignity is diminished by the wilful independence of her behaviour. And then, that husband of Water-lily whispered [p. 78] very gently the name of his wife. And low though it was, the sound of that whisper vibrated through the three worlds into the uttermost parts of space: and the universe echoed to its tone like a lute whose strings tremble at the touch of the wind. And as that ubiquitous murmur sank and died away into a hush, the sea began to bubble and foam, and suddenly the goddess of beauty rose up out of the lather of its waves for the second time [*g]. And she stood with her little feet resting on the back of a tortoise, and the sea water dropping from her limbs that seemed to sparkle with the beauty of its salt. And her neck resembled a shell, and on the pearl of its surface was reflected the dark shadow of the green emeralds that hung round it; and she held in one hand a dark blue lotus of exactly the same colour as her long-cornered, lash-netted, shadowy eyes. And the graceful creepers of her soft round arms, and the extremities of her smooth and tapering legs, whose knees bent a little inwards, were loaded with rings of red coral that blushed with envy at the colour of her lips, which smiled as if conscious of their own superiority: while her bosom, whose two breasts

[p. 79] were turned slightly away from each other like sisters that have quarrelled, rose very gently up and down as if keeping time to the music of the sea. And she held up with her left hand a coil of the blue hair which fell in masses from her head, and encircled her like a cloud blown by the breeze: and its end trailed away over the ocean waves. So she stood in silence, bending a little forward, till a three-fold wrinkle showed in the soft fold of her slender waist, while the foam plashed and lapped over the back of the tortoise that supported her, hungry to kiss the arched instep of her tiny pearly-toed feet. And her eyes looked far away, fixed on the horizon of that sky-bounded ocean plain. And the gods looked at her in silence, and then at each other. And each knew what the other thought, though no one spoke. And each one said to himself: How is it possible to accuse such a beautiful creature as this of anything whatever, much less punish her. So they all stood gazing at her, confounded and abashed, and intoxicated, and silent, while she waited before them, and Wishnu watched both her and them with dreaming eyes. And suddenly the gods turned, as if by mutual consent. And without speaking, they all flew away together over the sea, and disappeared on its edge like a flock of birds. [p. 80] And then Wishnu looked at his wife with a glance of ineffable affection. And after a while he beckoned to her with a smile. Then Water-lily came at once, and sat down at the feet of her lord, and began to rub them gently with a hand softer than the lotus which she laid beside them. And Wishnu watched her, opening and closing his dreamy eyes, while the waves rocked their lotus couch quietly up and down. And the sun set, and the night fell, leaving them alone together in the darkness on the bosom of the sea.

Footnotes ^76:f sc. Maheshwara. ^78:g The first time was when she was born, at the churning of ocean. In the Great God's Hair, by F. W. Bain, [1905], at sacred-texts.com [p. 81] Epilogue. [p. 82] [p. 83] Epilogue. And then, Maheshwara ceased. And he put up his hand, and took the Kathaka out of his hair, and set him down. And he said: Thou hast heard: Go now, and tell thy story to the King. But instead of going, the Kathaka fell with his face upon the snow. And he exclaimed: O Maheshwara, O Shambu, O Three-eyed Trident-bearer, O Lord of All and Giver of Boons, thou hast sanctified my ears with the nectar of thy tale. Yet O! grant me yet one other boon. So Maheshwara said: What is that? And the Kathaka said: O show me but a single glimpse of that wave-born beauty, as she rose out of the sea before the gods. Then the Great God said privately to his wife: See now, how these dim-sighted stupid mortals ask for they know not what, and rush ignorantly upon their own destruction. And he said to the Kathaka: Dost thou really desire to see that immortal beauty? The Kathaka said: Yes. Then [p. 84] said the god to Uma: Go quickly and find Water-lily, and tell her only that I have need of her favour for a moment. Then his wife flew away like a flash of lightning. And they waited there in silence, the Great God and the mortal, while the diadem of the deity shone out over the lonely peaks of snow. And after a while, the Daughter of the Mountain returned, bringing Water-lily with her. Then that beautiful one said: I am here: and now, what favour has the Great God to confer upon me?

Then his wife flew away like a flash of lightning. And they waited there in silence, the Great God and the mortal, while the diadem of the deity shone out over the lonely peaks of snow. And after a while, the Daughter of the Mountain returned, bringing Water-lily with her. Then that beautiful one said: I am here: and now, what favour has the Great God to confer upon me? And Maheshwara said, O darling of Narayana, here is a poor devil of a mortal, to whom I have granted a boon. Do me this favour: show thyself for a single instant. And he said to the Kathaka: Look up now, and see. And the Kathaka raised his head, and looked up into the dark expanse of sky, stretching over the pallid snowy moonlit peaks. And suddenly, the goddess was revealed against it, like a picture painted on a wall. And for a single fraction of an atom of an instant of time, there flashed in his eyes the vision of that blinding loveliness, and over two hills of snow a pair of dark blue eyes shot into his own, and withered his heart like a blade of dry grass in a sheet of forest flame. And he [p. 85] uttered a cry, and caught at his heart with both hands, and fell upon the snow dead. Then said Maheshwara: How could a mortal expect to endure such a beauty as thine? But this dead body must not remain here. And he took it by the foot with his purifying hand, and flung it away. Then that empty corpse rushed with a whistle through the ice-cold air, and fell like a meteor into the Ganges at Haradwara. But the soul of that unlucky Kathaka instantly returned to earth and was born again. And he became a poet, who wandered in the world all his life long, hunting with a heart on fire for the eyes he could never find.

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