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Title: Chitra, a Play in One Act

Author: Rabindranath Tagore

Release Date: February 1, 2001 [EBook #2502]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Elliot S. Wheeler, and David Widger

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ***

CHITRA

A PLAY IN ONE ACT

BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE

New York

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

1926

All rights reserved

Copyright 1914

by THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Set up and electrotyped Published February, 1914

Reprinted March, twice, June, 1914; October, 1914;

February, June, 1915; March, October, 1916; March, 1917;

December, 1926.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY

THE BERWICK & SMITH CO.

TO

MRS. WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY

PREFACE

THIS lyrical drama was written about twenty-five years ago. It is based on the following story from the Mahabharata.

In the course of his wanderings, in fulfilment of a vow of penance, Arjuna came to Manipur. There he saw Chitrangada, the beautiful daughter of Chitravahana, the king of the country. Smitten with her charms, he asked the king for the hand of his daughter in marriage. Chitravahana asked him who he was, and learning that he was Arjuna the Pandara, told him that Prabhanjana, one of his ancestors in the kingly line of Manipur, had long been childless. In order to obtain an heir, he performed severe penances. Pleased with these austerities, the god Shiva gave him this boon, that he and his successors should each have one child. It so happened that the promised child had invariably been a son. He, Chitravahana, was the first to have only a daughter Chitrangada to perpetuate the race. He had, therefore, always treated her as a son and had made her his heir.

Continuing, the king said:

"The one son that will be born to her must be the perpetuator of my race. That son will be the price that I shall demand for this marriage. You can take her, if you like, on this condition."

Arjuna promised and took Chitrangada to wife, and lived in her father's capital for three years. When a son was born to them, he embraced her with affection, and taking leave of her and her father, set out again on his travels.

Contents

CHITRA

THE CHARACTERS

SCENE I

SCENE II

SCENE III

SCENE IV

SCENE V

SCENE VI

SCENE VII

SCENE VIII

SCENE IX

CHITRA

THE CHARACTERS

GODS:

MADANA (Eros).

VASANTA (Lycoris).

MORTALS:

CHITRA, daughter of the King of Manipur.

ARJUNA, a prince of the house of the Kurus.  He is of the

Kshatriya or "warrior caste," and during the action is living as

a Hermit retired in the forest.

VILLAGERS from an outlying district of Manipur.

NOTE.—The dramatic poem "Chitra" has been performed in India

without scenery—the actors being surrounded by the audience.

Proposals for its production here having been made to him, he

went through this translation and provided stage directions, but

wished these omitted if it were printed as a book.

SCENE I

Chitra

ART thou the god with the five darts, the Lord of Love?

Madana

I am he who was the first born in the heart of the Creator.  I

bind in bonds of pain and bliss the lives of men and women!

Chitra

I know, I know what that pain is and those bonds.—And who art

thou, my lord?

Vasanta

I am his friend—Vasanta—the King of the Seasons.  Death and

decrepitude would wear the world to the bone but that I follow

them and constantly attack them.  I am Eternal Youth.

Chitra

I bow to thee, Lord Vasanta.

Madana

But what stern vow is thine, fair stranger?  Why dost thou wither

thy fresh youth with penance and mortification?  Such a sacrifice

is not fit for the worship of love.  Who art thou and what is thy

prayer?

Chitra

I am Chitra, the daughter of the kingly house of Manipur.  With

godlike grace Lord Shiva promised to my royal grandsire an

unbroken line of male descent.  Nevertheless, the divine word

proved powerless to change the spark of life in my mother's womb

—so invincible was my nature, woman though I be.

Madana

I know, that is why thy father brings thee up as his son.  He has

taught thee the use of the bow and all the duties of a king.

Chitra

Yes, that is why I am dressed in man's attire and have left the

seclusion of a woman's chamber.  I know no feminine wiles for

winning hearts.  My hands are strong to bend the bow, but I have

never learnt Cupid's archery, the play of eyes.

Madana

That requires no schooling, fair one.  The eye does its work

untaught, and he knows how well, who is struck in the heart.

Chitra

One day in search of game I roved alone to the forest on the bank

of the Purna river.  Tying my horse to a tree trunk I entered a

dense thicket on the track of a deer.  I found a narrow sinuous

path meandering through the dusk of the entangled boughs, the

foliage vibrated with the chirping of crickets, when of a sudden

I came upon a man lying on a bed of dried leaves, across my path.

I asked him haughtily to move aside, but he heeded not.  Then

with the sharp end of my bow I pricked him in contempt.

Instantly he leapt up with straight, tall limbs, like a sudden

tongue of fire from a heap of ashes.  An amused smile flickered

round the corners of his mouth, perhaps at the sight of my boyish

countenance.  Then for the first time in my life I felt myself a

woman, and knew that a man was before me.

Madana

At the auspicious hour I teach the man and the woman this supreme

lesson to know themselves.  What happened after that?

Chitra

With fear and wonder I asked him "Who are you?" "I am Arjuna," he

said, "of the great Kuru clan."  I stood petrified like a statue,

and forgot to do him obeisance.  Was this indeed Arjuna, the one

great idol of my dreams!  Yes, I had long ago heard how he had

vowed a twelve-years' celibacy.  Many a day my young ambition had

spurred me on to break my lance with him, to challenge him in

disguise to single combat, and prove my skill in arms against

him.  Ah, foolish heart, whither fled thy presumption?  Could I

but exchange my youth with all its aspirations for the clod of

earth under his feet, I should deem it a most precious grace.  I

know not in what whirlpool of thought I was lost, when suddenly I

saw him vanish through the trees.  O foolish woman, neither didst

thou greet him, nor speak a word, nor beg forgiveness, but

stoodest like a barbarian boor while he contemptuously walked

away! . . . Next morning I laid aside my man's clothing.  I

donned bracelets, anklets, waist-chain, and a gown of purple red

silk. The unaccustomed dress clung about my shrinking shame; but

I hastened on my quest, and found Arjuna in the forest temple of

Shiva.

Madana

Tell me the story to the end.  I am the heart-born god, and I

understand the mystery of these impulses.

Chitra

Only vaguely can I remember what things I said, and what answer I

got.  Do not ask me to tell you all.  Shame fell on me like a

thunderbolt, yet could not break me to pieces, so utterly hard,

so like a man am I.  His last words as I walked home pricked my

ears like red hot needles.  "I have taken the vow of celibacy.  I

am not fit to be thy husband!"  Oh, the vow of a man!  Surely

thou knowest, thou god of love, that unnumbered saints and sages

have surrendered the merits of their life-long penance at the

feet of a woman.  I broke my bow in two and burnt my arrows in

the fire. I hated my strong, lithe arm, scored by drawing the

bowstring.  O Love, god Love, thou hast laid low in the dust the

vain pride of my manlike strength; and all my man's training lies

crushed under thy feet.  Now teach me thy lessons; give me the

power of the weak and the weapon of the unarmed hand.

Madana

I will be thy friend.  I will bring the world-conquering Arjuna a

captive before thee, to accept his rebellion's sentence at thy

hand.

Chitra

Had I but the time needed, I could win his heart by slow degrees,

and ask no help of the gods.  I would stand by his side as a

comrade, drive the fierce horses of his war-chariot, attend him

in the pleasures of the chase, keep guard at night at the

entrance of his tent, and help him in all the great duties of a

Kshatriya, rescuing the weak, and meting out justice where it is

due.  Surely at last the day would have come for him to look at

me and wonder, "What boy is this?  Has one of my slaves in a

former life followed me like my good deeds into this?"  I am not

the woman who nourishes her despair in lonely silence, feeding it

with nightly tears and covering it with the daily patient smile,

a widow from her birth.  The flower of my desire shall never drop

into the dust before it has ripened to fruit.  But it is the

labour of a life time to make one's true self known and honoured.

Therefore I have come to thy door, thou world-vanquishing Love,

and thou, Vasanta, youthful Lord of the Seasons, take from

my young body this primal injustice, an unattractive plainness.

For a single day make me superbly beautiful, even as beautiful as

was the sudden blooming of love in my heart.  Give me but one

brief day of perfect beauty, and I will answer for the days that

follow.

Madana

Lady, I grant thy prayer.

Vasanta

Not for the short span of a day, but for one whole year the charm

of spring blossoms shall nestle round thy limbs.

SCENE II

Arjuna

WAS I dreaming or was what I saw by the lake truly there?

Sitting on the mossy turf, I mused over bygone years in the

sloping shadows of the evening, when slowly there came out from

the folding darkness of foliage an apparition of beauty in the

perfect form of a woman, and stood on a white slab of stone at

the water's brink.  It seemed that the heart of the earth must

heave in joy under her bare white feet.  Methought the vague

veilings of her body should melt in ecstasy into air as the

golden mist of dawn melts from off the snowy peak of the eastern

hill.  She bowed herself above the shining mirror of the lake and

saw the reflection of her face.  She started up in awe and stood

still; then smiled, and with a careless sweep of her left arm

unloosed her hair and let it trail on the earth at her feet.  She

bared her bosom and looked at her arms, so flawlessly modelled,

and instinct with an exquisite caress.  Bending her head she

saw the sweet blossoming of her youth and the tender bloom and

blush of her skin.  She beamed with a glad surprise.  So, if the

white lotus bud on opening her eyes in the morning were to arch

her neck and see her shadow in the water, would she wonder at

herself the livelong day.  But a moment after the smile passed

from her face and a shade of sadness crept into her eyes.  She

bound up her tresses, drew her veil over her arms, and sighing

slowly, walked away like a beauteous evening fading into the

night.  To me the supreme fulfilment of desire seemed to have

been revealed in a flash and then to have vanished. . . . But who

is it that pushes the door?

Enter CHITRA, dressed as a woman.

Ah!  it is she.  Quiet, my heart! . . . Fear me not, lady!  I am

a Kshatriya.

Chitra

Honoured sir, you are my guest.  I live in this temple.  I know

not in what way I can show you hospitality.

Arjuna

Fair lady, the very sight of you is indeed the highest

hospitality.  If you will not take it amiss I would ask you a

question.

Chitra

You have permission.

Arjuna

What stern vow keeps you immured in this solitary temple,

depriving all mortals of a vision of so much loveliness?

Chitra

I harbour a secret desire in my heart, for the fulfilment of

which I offer daily prayers to Lord Shiva.

Arjuna

Alas, what can you desire, you who are the desire of the whole

world!  From the easternmost hill on whose summit the morning sun

first prints his fiery foot to the end of the sunset land have I

travelled.  I have seen whatever is most precious, beautiful and

great on the earth.  My knowledge shall be yours, only say for

what or for whom you seek.

Chitra

He whom I seek is known to all.

Arjuna

Indeed!  Who may this favourite of the gods be, whose fame has

captured your heart?

Chitra

Sprung from the highest of all royal houses, the greatest of all

heroes is he.

Arjuna

Lady, offer not such wealth of beauty as is yours on the altar of

false reputation.  Spurious fame spreads from tongue to tongue

like the fog of the early dawn before the sun rises.  Tell me who

in the highest of kingly lines is the supreme hero?

Chitra

Hermit, you are jealous of other men's fame.  Do you not know

that all over the world the royal house of the Kurus is the most

famous?

Arjuna

The house of the Kurus!

Chitra

And have you never heard of the greatest name of that far-famed

house?

Arjuna

From your own lips let me hear it.

Chitra

Arjuna, the conqueror of the world.  I have culled from the

mouths of the multitude that imperishable name and hidden it with

care in my maiden heart.  Hermit, why do you look perturbed?  Has

that name only a deceitful glitter?  Say so, and I will not

hesitate to break this casket of my heart and throw the false gem

to the dust.

Arjuna

Be his name and fame, his bravery and prowess false or true, for

mercy's sake do not banish him from your heart—for he kneels at

your feet even now.

Chitra

You, Arjuna!

Arjuna

Yes, I am he, the love-hungered guest at your door.

Chitra

Then it is not true that Arjuna has taken a vow of chastity for

twelve long years?

Arjuna

But you have dissolved my vow even as the moon dissolves the

night's vow of obscurity.

Chitra

Oh, shame upon you!  What have you seen in me that makes you

false to yourself?  Whom do you seek in these dark eyes, in these

milk-white arms, if you are ready to pay for her the price of

your probity?  Not my true self, I know.  Surely this cannot be

love, this is not man's highest homage to woman!  Alas, that this

frail disguise, the body, should make one blind to the light of

the deathless spirit!  Yes, now indeed, I know, Arjuna, the fame

of your heroic manhood is false.

Arjuna

Ah, I feel how vain is fame, the pride of prowess!  Everything

seems to me a dream.  You alone are perfect; you are the wealth

of the world, the end of all poverty, the goal of all efforts,

the one woman!  Others there are who can be but slowly known.

While to see you for a moment is to see perfect completeness

once and for ever.

Chitra

Alas, it is not I, not I, Arjuna!  It is the deceit of a god.

Go, go, my hero, go.  Woo not falsehood, offer not your great

heart to an illusion.  Go.

SCENE III

Chitra

No, impossible.  To face that fervent gaze that almost grasps you

like clutching hands of the hungry spirit within; to feel his

heart struggling to break its bounds urging its passionate cry

through the entire body—and then to send him away like a

beggar—no, impossible.

Enter MADANA and VASANTA.

Ah, god of love, what fearful flame is this with which thou hast

enveloped me!  I burn, and I burn whatever I touch.

Madana

I desire to know what happened last night.

Chitra

At evening I lay down on a grassy bed strewn with the petals of

spring flowers, and recollected the wonderful praise of my beauty

I had heard from Arjuna;—drinking drop by drop the honey that I

had stored during the long day.  The history of my past life like

that of my former existences was forgotten.  I felt like a

flower, which has but a few fleeting hours to listen to all the

humming flatteries and whispered murmurs of the woodlands and

then must lower its eyes from the Sky, bend its head and at a

breath give itself up to the dust without a cry, thus ending the

short story of a perfect moment that has neither past nor future.

Vasanta

A limitless life of glory can bloom and spend itself in a

morning.

Madana

Like an endless meaning in the narrow span of a song.

Chitra

The southern breeze caressed me to sleep.  From the flowering

Malati bower overhead silent kisses dropped over my body.

On my hair, my breast, my feet, each flower chose a bed to die

on.  I slept.  And, suddenly in the depth of my sleep, I felt as

if some intense eager look, like tapering fingers of flame,

touched my slumbering body.  I started up and saw the Hermit

standing before me.  The moon had moved to the west, peering

through the leaves to espy this wonder of divine art wrought in a

fragile human frame.  The air was heavy with perfume; the silence

of the night was vocal with the chirping of crickets; the

reflections of the trees hung motionless in the lake; and with

his staff in his hand he stood, tall and straight and still, like

a forest tree.  It seemed to me that I had, on opening my eyes,

died to all realities of life and undergone a dream birth into a

shadow land.  Shame slipped to my feet like loosened clothes.  I

heard his call—"Beloved, my most beloved!"  And all my forgotten

lives united as one and responded to it.  I said, "Take me, take

all I am!"  And I stretched out my arms to him.  The moon set

behind the trees.  One curtain of darkness covered all.  Heaven

and earth, time and space, pleasure and pain, death and life

merged together in an unbearable ecstasy. . . . With the first

gleam of light, the first twitter of birds, I rose up and sat

leaning on my left arm.  He lay asleep with a vague smile about

his lips like the crescent moon in the morning.  The rosy red

glow of the dawn fell upon his noble forehead.  I sighed and

stood up.  I drew together the leafy lianas to screen the

streaming sun from his face.  I looked about me and saw the same

old earth.  I remembered what I used to be, and ran and ran like

a deer afraid of her own shadow, through the forest path strewn

with shephali flowers.  I found a lonely nook, and sitting down

covered my face with both hands, and tried to weep and cry.  But

no tears came to my eyes.

Madana

Alas, thou daughter of mortals!  I stole from the divine

Storehouse the fragrant wine of heaven, filled with it one

earthly night to the brim, and placed it in thy hand to drink—

yet still I hear this cry of anguish!

Chitra [bitterly]

Who drank it?  The rarest completion of life's desire, the first

union of love was proffered to me, but was wrested from my grasp?

This borrowed beauty, this falsehood that enwraps me, will slip

from me taking with it the only monument of that sweet union, as

the petals fall from an overblown flower; and the woman ashamed

of her naked poverty will sit weeping day and night.  Lord Love,

this cursed appearance companions me like a demon robbing me of

all the prizes of love—all the kisses for which my heart is

athirst.

Madana

Alas, how vain thy single night had been!  The barque of joy came

in sight, but the waves would not let it touch the shore.

Chitra

Heaven came so close to my hand that I forgot for a moment that

it had not reached me.  But when I woke in the morning from my

dream I found that my body had become my own rival.  It is my

hateful task to deck her every day, to send her to my beloved and

see her caressed by him.  O god, take back thy boon!

Madana

But if I take it from you how can you stand before your lover?

To snatch away the cup from his lips when he has scarcely drained

his first draught of pleasure, would not that be cruel?  With

what resentful anger he must regard thee then?

Chitra

That would be better far than this.  I will reveal my true self

to him, a nobler thing than this disguise.  If he rejects it, if

he spurns me and breaks my heart, I will bear even that in

silence.

Vasanta

Listen to my advice.  When with the advent of autumn the

flowering season is over then comes the triumph of fruitage.  A

time will come of itself when the heat-cloyed bloom of the body

will droop and Arjuna will gladly accept the abiding fruitful

truth in thee.  O child, go back to thy mad festival.

SCENE IV

Chitra

WHY do you watch me like that, my warrior?

Arjuna

I watch how you weave that garland.  Skill and grace, the twin

brother and sister, are dancing playfully on your finger tips.  I

am watching and thinking.

Chitra

What are you thinking, sir?

Arjuna

I am thinking that you, with this same lightness of touch and

sweetness, are weaving my days of exile into an immortal wreath,

to crown me when I return home.

Chitra

Home!  But this love is not for a home!

Arjuna

Not for a home?

Chitra

No.  Never talk of that.  Take to your home what is abiding and

strong.  Leave the little wild flower where it was born; leave it

beautifully to die at the day's end among all fading blossoms and

decaying leaves.   Do not take it to your palace hall to fling it

on the stony floor which knows no pity for things that fade and

are forgotten.

Arjuna

Is ours that kind of love?

Chitra

Yes, no other!  Why regret it?  That which was meant for idle

days should never outlive them.  Joy turns into pain when the

door by which it should depart is shut against it.  Take it and

keep it as long as it lasts.  Let not the satiety of your evening

claim more than the desire of your morning could earn. . . . The

day is done.  Put this garland on.  I am tired.  Take me in your

arms, my love.  Let all vain bickerings of discontent die away at

the sweet meeting of our lips.

Arjuna

Hush!  Listen, my beloved, the sound of prayer bells from the

distant village temple steals upon the evening air across the

silent trees!

SCENE V

Vasanta

I CANNOT keep pace with thee, my friend!  I am tired.  It is a

hard task to keep alive the fire thou hast kindled.  Sleep

overtakes me, the fan drops from my hand, and cold ashes cover

the glow of the fire.  I start up again from my slumber and with

all my might rescue the weary flame.  But this can go on no

longer.

Madana

I know, thou art as fickle as a child.  Ever restless is thy play

in heaven and on earth.  Things that thou for days buildest up

with endless detail thou dost shatter in a moment without regret.

But this work of ours is nearly finished.  Pleasure-winged days

fly fast, and the year, almost at its end, swoons in rapturous

bliss.

SCENE VI

Arjuna

I WOKE in the morning and found that my dreams had distilled a

gem.  I have no casket to inclose it, no king's crown whereon to

fix it, no chain from which to hang it, and yet have not the

heart to throw it away.  My Kshatriya's right arm, idly occupied

in holding it, forgets its duties.

Enter CHITRA.

Chitra

Tell me your thoughts, sir!

Arjuna

My mind is busy with thoughts of hunting today.  See, how the

rain pours in torrents and fiercely beats upon the hillside.  The

dark shadow of the clouds hangs heavily over the forest, and the

swollen stream, like reckless youth, overleaps all barriers with

mocking laughter.  On such rainy days we five brothers would go

to the Chitraka forest to chase wild beasts.  Those were glad

times. Our hearts danced to the drumbeat of rumbling clouds.  The

woods resounded with the screams of peacocks.  Timid deer could

not hear our approaching steps for the patter of rain and the

noise of waterfalls; the leopards would leave their tracks on the

wet earth, betraying their lairs.  Our sport over, we dared each

other to swim across turbulent streams on our way back home.  The

restless spirit is on me.  I long to go hunting.

Chitra

First run down the quarry you are now following.  Are you quite

certain that the enchanted deer you pursue must needs be caught?

No, not yet.  Like a dream the wild creature eludes you when it

seems most nearly yours.  Look how the wind is chased by the mad

rain that discharges a thousand arrows after it.  Yet it goes

free and unconquered.  Our sport is like that, my love!  You give

chase to the fleet-footed spirit of beauty, aiming at her every

dart you have in your hands.  Yet this magic deer runs ever free

and untouched.

Arjuna

My love, have you no home where kind hearts are waiting for your

return?  A home which you once made sweet with your gentle

service and whose light went out when you left it for this

wilderness?

Chitra

Why these questions?  Are the hours of unthinking pleasure over?

Do you not know that I am no more than what you see before you?

For me there is no vista beyond.  The dew that hangs on the tip

of a Kinsuka petal has neither name nor destination.  It offers

no answer to any question.  She whom you love is like that

perfect bead of dew.

Arjuna

Has she no tie with the world?  Can she be merely like a fragment

of heaven dropped on the earth through the carelessness of a

wanton god?

Chitra

Yes.

Arjuna

Ah, that is why I always seem about to lose you.  My heart is

unsatisfied, my mind knows no peace.  Come closer to me,

unattainable one!  Surrender yourself to the bonds of name and

home and parentage.  Let my heart feel you on all sides and live

with you in the peaceful security of love.

Chitra

Why this vain effort to catch and keep the tints of the clouds,

the dance of the waves, the smell of the flowers?

Arjuna

Mistress mine, do not hope to pacify love with airy nothings.

Give me something to clasp, something that can last longer than

pleasure, that can endure even through suffering.

Chitra

Hero mine, the year is not yet full, and you are tired already!

Now I know that it is Heaven's blessing that has made the

flower's term of life short.  Could this body of mine have

drooped and died with the flowers of last spring it surely would

have died with honour.  Yet, its days are numbered, my love.

Spare it not, press it dry of honey, for fear your beggar's heart

come back to it again and again with unsated desire, like a

thirsty bee when summer blossoms lie dead in the dust.

SCENE VII

Madana

TONIGHT is thy last night.

Vasanta

The loveliness of your body will return tomorrow to the

inexhaustible stores of the spring.  The ruddy tint of thy lips

freed from the memory of Arjuna's kisses, will bud anew as a pair

of fresh asoka leaves, and the soft, white glow of thy skin will

be born again in a hundred fragrant jasmine flowers.

Chitra

O gods, grant me this my prayer!  Tonight, in its last hour let

my beauty flash its brightest, like the final flicker of a dying

flame.

Madana

Thou shalt have thy wish.

SCENE VIII

Villagers

WHO will protect us now?

Arjuna

Why, by what danger are you threatened?

Villagers

The robbers are pouring from the northern hills like a mountain

flood to devastate our village.

Arjuna

Have you in this kingdom no warden?

Villagers

Princess Chitra was the terror of all evil doers.  While she was

in this happy land we feared natural deaths, but had no other

fears.  Now she has gone on a pilgrimage, and none knows where to

find her.

Arjuna

Is the warden of this country a woman?

Villagers

Yes, she is our father and mother in one.

[Exeunt.

Enter CHITRA.

Chitra

Why are you sitting all alone?

Arjuna

I am trying to imagine what kind of woman Princess Chitra may be.

I hear so many stories of her from all sorts of men.

Chitra

Ah, but she is not beautiful.  She has no such lovely eyes as

mine, dark as death.  She can pierce any target she will, but not

our hero's heart.

Arjuna

They say that in valour she is a man, and a woman in tenderness.

Chitra

That, indeed, is her greatest misfortune.  When a woman is merely

a woman; when she winds herself round and round men's hearts with

her smiles and sobs and services and caressing endearments; then

she is happy.  Of what use to her are learning and great

achievements?  Could you have seen her only yesterday in the

court of the Lord Shiva's temple by the forest path, you would

have passed by without deigning to look at her.  But have you

grown so weary of woman's beauty that you seek in her for a man's

strength?

With green leaves wet from the spray of the foaming waterfall, I

have made our noonday bed in a cavern dark as night.  There the

cool of the soft green mosses thick on the black and dripping

stone, kisses your eyes to sleep.  Let me guide you thither.

Arjuna

Not today, beloved.

Chitra

Why not today?

Arjuna

I have heard that a horde of robbers has neared the plains.

Needs must I go and prepare my weapons to protect the frightened

villagers.

Chitra

You need have no fear for them.  Before she started on her

pilgrimage, Princess Chitra had set strong guards at all the

frontier passes.

Arjuna

Yet permit me for a short while to set about a Kshatriya's work.

With new glory will I ennoble this idle arm, and make of it a

pillow more worthy of your head.

Chitra

What if I refuse to let you go, if I keep you entwined in my

arms?  Would you rudely snatch yourself free and leave me?  Go

then!  But you must know that the liana, once broken in two,

never joins again.  Go, if your thirst is quenched.  But, if not,

then remember that the goddess of pleasure is fickle, and waits

for no man.  Sit for a while, my lord!  Tell me what uneasy

thoughts tease you.  Who occupied your mind today?  Is it Chitra?

Arjuna

Yes, it is Chitra.  I wonder in fulfilment of what vow she has

gone on her pilgrimage.  Of what could she stand in need?

Chitra

Her needs?  Why, what has she ever had, the unfortunate creature?

Her very qualities are as prison walls, shutting her woman's

heart in a bare cell.  She is obscured, she is unfulfilled.  Her

womanly love must content itself dressed in rags; beauty is

denied  her.   She  is like the spirit of  a  cheerless  morning,

sitting upon the stony mountain peak, all her light blotted out

by dark clouds.  Do not ask me of her life.  It will never sound

sweet to man's ear.

Arjuna

I am eager to learn all about her.  I am like a traveller come to

a strange city at midnight.  Domes and towers and garden-trees

look vague and shadowy, and the dull moan of the sea comes

fitfully through the silence of sleep.  Wistfully he waits for

the morning to reveal to him all the strange wonders.  Oh, tell

me her story.

Chitra

What more is there to tell?

Arjuna

I seem to see her, in my mind's eye, riding on a white horse,

proudly holding the reins in her left hand, and in her right a

bow, and like the Goddess of Victory dispensing glad hope all

round her.  Like a watchful lioness she protects the litter at

her dugs with a fierce love.  Woman's arms, though adorned with

naught but unfettered strength, are beautiful!  My heart is

restless, fair one, like a serpent reviving from his long

winter's sleep.  Come, let us both race on swift horses side by

side, like twin orbs of light sweeping through space.  Out from

this slumbrous prison of green gloom, this dank, dense cover of

perfumed intoxication, choking breath.

Chitra

Arjuna, tell me true, if, now at once, by some magic I could

shake myself free from this voluptuous softness, this timid bloom

of beauty shrinking from the rude and healthy touch of the world,

and fling it from my body like borrowed clothes, would you be

able to bear it?  If I stand up straight and strong with the

strength of a daring heart spurning the wiles and arts of twining

weakness, if I hold my head high like a tall young mountain fir,

no longer trailing in the dust like a liana, shall I then appeal

to man's eye?   No, no, you could not endure it.  It is better

that I should keep spread about me all the dainty playthings of

fugitive youth, and wait for you in patience.  When it pleases

you to return, I will smilingly pour out for you the wine of

pleasure in the cup of this beauteous body.  When you are tired

and satiated with this wine, you can go to work or play; and when

I grow old I will accept humbly and gratefully whatever corner is

left for me.  Would it please your heroic soul if the playmate of

the night aspired to be the helpmeet of the day, if the left arm

learnt to share the burden of the proud right arm?

Arjuna

I never seem to know you aright.  You seem to me like a goddess

hidden within a golden image.  I cannot touch you, I cannot pay

you my dues in return for your priceless gifts.  Thus my love is

incomplete.  Sometimes in the enigmatic depth of your sad look,

in your playful words mocking at their own meaning, I gain

glimpses of a being trying to rend asunder the languorous grace

of her body, to emerge in a chaste fire of pain through a

vaporous veil of smiles.  Illusion is the first appearance of

Truth.  She advances towards her lover in disguise.  But a time

comes when she throws off her ornaments and veils and stands

clothed in naked dignity.  I grope for that ultimate you, that

bare simplicity of truth.

Why these tears, my love?  Why cover your face with your hands?

Have I pained you, my darling?  Forget what I said.  I will be

content with the present.  Let each separate moment of beauty

come to me like a bird of mystery from its unseen nest in the

dark  bearing  a message of music.  Let me for ever sit  with

my hope on the brink of its realization, and thus end my days.

SCENE IX

CHITRA and ARJUNA

Chitra [cloaked]

My lord, has the cup been drained to the last drop?  Is this,

indeed, the end? No, when all is done something still remains,

and that is my last sacrifice at your feet.

I brought from the garden of heaven flowers of incomparable

beauty with which to worship you, god of my heart.  If the rites

are over, if the flowers have faded, let me throw them out of the

temple [unveiling in her original male attire].  Now, look

at your worshipper with gracious eyes.

I am not beautifully perfect as the flowers with which I

worshipped.  I have many flaws and blemishes.  I am a

traveller in the great world-path, my garments are dirty,

and my feet are bleeding with thorns.  Where should I achieve

flower-beauty, the unsullied loveliness of a moment's life?  The

gift that I proudly bring you is the heart of a woman.  Here have

all pains and joys gathered, the hopes and fears and shames of a

daughter of the dust; here love springs up struggling toward

immortal life.  Herein lies an imperfection which yet is noble

and grand.  If the flower-service is finished, my master, accept

this as your servant for the days to come!

I am Chitra, the king's daughter.  Perhaps you will remember the

day when a woman came to you in the temple of Shiva, her body

loaded with ornaments and finery.  That shameless woman came to

court you as though she were a man.  You rejected her; you did

well.  My lord, I am that woman.  She was my disguise.  Then by

the boon of gods I obtained for a year the most radiant form that

a mortal ever wore, and wearied my hero's heart with the burden

of that deceit.  Most surely I am not that woman.

I am Chitra.  No goddess to be worshipped, nor yet the

object of common pity to be brushed aside like a moth with

indifference.  If you deign to keep me by your side in the path

of danger and daring, if you allow me to share the great duties

of your life, then you will know my true self.  If your babe,

whom  I  am nourishing in my womb be born a son, I  shall  myself

teach him to be a second Arjuna, and send him to you when the

time comes, and then at last you will truly know me. Today I can

only offer you Chitra, the daughter of a king.

Arjuna

Beloved, my life is full.

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Table of Contents

CHITRA

A PLAY IN ONE ACT

New York THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1926 All rights reserved Copyright 1914 by THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Set up and electrotyped Published February, 1914 Reprinted March, twice, June, 1914; October, 1914; February, June, 1915; March, October, 1916; March, 1917; December, 1926. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY THE BERWICK & SMITH CO. TO MRS. WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY

PREFACE

Contents

CHITRA

THE CHARACTERS

SCENE I

SCENE II

SCENE III

SCENE IV

SCENE V

SCENE VI

SCENE VII

SCENE VIII

SCENE IX

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