Ashoka the Great

by Keuning, Wytze

  Satyavant:

  My work tires me, my head is wracked as though it is being hammered, my beloved; that is why I will lie down on the moss for a while.

  Instantly Savitri approaches near and seats herself on the ground, she carefully nestles the head of her spouse on her lap. Sitting thus she ponders:

  Savitri:

  This is the dreaded hour I fear, for according to Narada’s prophecy, my spouse will die.

  At that very moment there appears a shining figure, bright, red of eyes, dark of skin and, in his hand he carries a noose.

  He places himself quietly beside Satyavant, and looks intently down upon him.

  Even as she sees him, softly does she ease the head of Satyavant down onto the moss, then stands up and with folded hands and trembling heart, speaks thus:

  Savitri:

  I recognise you as a mighty god for you do not look like a human being,

  O, Godly Prince, I beg you, who are you and what are you looking for here?

  Yama:

  O, Savitri, beauteous one, so true are you to your spouse and so rich in virtues, that is why I answer you: I am Death.

  Savitri:

  They say that usually your harbingers come to snatch away the life of men, Lord! How does it happen, Lord of the Blessed Ones, that you yourself appear here?

  Yama:

  Satyavant is pious, an ocean of virtues, which is why my harbingers do not come to take him, but I myself appear.

  Speaking thus, the god pulls at the noose, softly easing life out of the body of Satyavant. And Satyavant goes pale and is still.

  And Yama, with the spirit of Satyavant in his noose then sets off southward …

  Followed by a voiceless, faithful Savitri, lost in her pain.

  The screen closes. Then opens.

  A soft, wondrous yet mournful music follows them on their journey through the woods.

  A viola sings a tender, keening melody accompanied by a veena and a drum as though they weep, gasp, sob …

  Moved, the audience keeps silent. It is as though the very trees are listening. Their leaves are silently hanging down, only those of the pipalas move, trembling on still-frozen branches. The kokila sings from afar. Ashoka looks stealthily at Kunala, who is sitting motionless and does not seem to share his father’s unrest.

  VII

  When the screens opens on the seventh part, Yama and Savitri make their difficult way through the woods that presents obstacles.

  Yama:

  Turn back and return, Savitri, you now have to perform the rituals of death. For a long time you have come along with your spouse, go back now.

  Savitri:

  Wherever you lead my spouse, wherever you go, I have to go along with him, it is my duty. Do not forbid me from going along with him, for I have done penance, honoured the parents, loved my spouse and kept my promise … so you may be merciful.

  They say that, the one you walk together the seven sacred steps with, is already your friend;

  It is not incautious to live in the woods

  Exercising virtues, for the sages name virtue

  Their treasure and home.

  For the good ones therefore, virtue comes first.

  By virtue, they thus believe,

  We have arrived at last on the final path of salvation.

  And we need not look for a second or a third:

  For the good ones therefore virtue comes first.

  Yama:

  Savitri, pure one, enticing is your beautiful poem; I grant you mercy, choose whatever you wish, but not the life of Satyavant.

  Savitri:

  Let the blind father of my husband be given by your grace his sight.

  Yama:

  Done, faithful one! But now return, you are very weary already.

  Savitri:

  I, weary where is my spouse? I walk with you at a steady pace, however far you take him. Now hear further to my verse:

  The good ones need meet each other but once,

  They soon recognise each other as friends:

  The friendship of the good ones is a great blessing,

  That is why you should choose your home amongst them.

  Yama:

  Your beautiful words are refreshing to the heart and brightening to the mind!

  I once more grant you a boon. Ask for what you crave but not the life of Satyavant.

  Savitri:

  Restore then his kingdom again to the father of my husband.

  Yama:

  Let it be so. Even this wish is granted. Hasten back now.

  Savitri:

  O, Yama, who can take mortals through force to such a place that they themselves do not long for? Yet, listen to these words:

  To be mild and generous, to be benevolent in thoughts, words and deed,

  From the bottom of their heart and to all beings, is for the good ones their everlasting duty.

  In this world it sometimes happens, out of favour or out of fear,

  The good ones, however, love even the enemy who falls into their hands.

  Yama:

  Like refreshing water for the thirsty, so sweet are your words for me!

  One more boon do I grant you. But not the life of Satyavant.

  Savitri:

  My father has no son, Yama, grant him also descendants.

  Yama:

  Let it be so! But now return, already you have come a very long way.

  Savitri:

  Not far from me my husband reposes; much further goes my heart’s desire.

  Even while going, O, Visvavatin10, O, Lord of Justice11, once more listen to me:

  One need not rely upon oneself if one can place trust upon the good one.

  That is why everyone should love the good ones.

  It is easy to trust one, who is without iniquity and jealousy,

  This is why trust can only rule, there where the good ones dwell.

  Yama:

  Never I heard such words, as you, O, Beautiful One, speak.

  So, choose yourself a fourth boon. But not the life of Satyavant.

  Savitri:

  May many offspring be gifted to Satyavant and me.

  Yama:

  Descendants are given to you. But now, faithful one, do return!

  Savitri:

  The good ones are always labouring for others,

  Not because they expect favours in return.

  They labour because they see that as right:

  To behave thus, is what the noble ones wish.

  And the work of the good ones is not in vain,

  The benefit of their acts not short-lived:

  The good one leads by truth even the sun,

  The good one supports by devotion, the earth.

  Yama:

  The longer you speak thus, so virtuous, so true, so kind-hearted, so lovable,

  The more I adore you, O, pious one; ask therefore whatever you wish.

  Savitri:

  This time your grace is not lacking in bliss, as before.

  Give to me the life of Satyavant, return to me the life of my spouse!

  Return to me my life, return to me heaven, happiness and bliss!

  I ask only what you have already granted to me,

  For when you bestowed descendants to me and Satyavant,

  You had thus already returned to me my spouse:

  So, give to me the life of Satyavant.

  Yama:

  Let it be so (Saying thus Visvavatin, unties the spirit of the noose.

  And delighted, the Lord of Justice now says to Savitri)

  O, charming woman, here is your spouse. He is free, O, you, who impart happiness!

  He will be healthy and strong and long will you be happy,

  United with you, faithful and good, he will receive fame in this world.

  The sons and sons of sons will please you, regally,

  They will be famous by your name, for times still far ahead.

  And you will meet brethren yet, like the gods, courageou
s one,

  Named after your mother, Malavi, the Malavians.

  And so does the Lord of the Blessed Ones, the God of Justice speak, and then disappears.

  Savitri, the glorious one, returns with the life-spirit of Satyavant

  To the woods where the paled body of Satyavant still lies on the ground.

  The screen draws closed; the veena, softly tinkling, dreams up a dream.

  The throb of the drums fades into the far-off space where Yama went.

  VIII

  Time flies forward. Savitri nears the spot where Satyavant lies.

  Her beloved’s life-spirit sheltered tenderly in the pleats of her dress.

  Now the flower-screen parts and Satyavant lies still in repose,

  At the same spot where she left him earlier.

  She seats herself and places the head of her beloved spouse on her lap.

  Into the dead body now returns life, and Satyavant

  Awakens, opens wide the eyes and lovingly speaks to Savitri:

  Satyavant:

  The night looks down on us through a thousand eyes,

  It is hard to find the path; the forest is enveloped in darkness.

  My parents will be worriedly anxious about us,

  O, dear one, so let us return home speedily,

  I’ll find the way by the light of the torch.

  So saying Satyavant rises and with his axe cuts off a branch

  Of a barren tree, kindles it as a torch, spreading light.

  The basket with fruit they hang on a high branch,

  To be retrieved, when they return the next day.

  And with promptness they hasten homewards.

  For protection does Satyavant retain the axe in his right hand,

  And the left he gently keeps on Savitri’s left shoulder.

  She, with her left, holding aloft the torch, places the right one

  Around Satyavant. So do the two walk through the dark woods,

  In the night when animals seek prey.

  The screen with the lovely scenery closes for the eighth time now.

  IX

  When the screen parts for the last time, one sees the hermitage of Dyumatsena.

  Worrying deeply for their son and daughter who have not returned from the woods,

  Along with his wife, sits Dyumatsena, by their side the pious band of recluses

  Who live around them, offering them solace.

  With maxims and tales, they seek to conjure away the king’s fear,

  When suddenly they see how the king’s sight returns;

  With amazement he looks all around.

  With clear eyes he sees everything. The Brahmins are awe-struck.

  And then, at last, Satyavant enters the hermitage, together with Savitri.

  When they see this, the friends call out, rejoicing:

  A Brahmin:

  O, King, how gratified are we to see your happiness growing,

  Returned home is your son and with him, Savitri.

  And you again see – so your happiness counts as three.

  And even further will expand, O, Noble One, your fortune.

  When all are seated another Brahmin asks Satyavant:

  Second Brahmin:

  Why did you not return home earlier, Satyavant?

  What forestalled you that you came back in the dark night?

  Your father, your mother and we were very worried.

  Satyavant:

  When I was cutting wood in the forest I became unwell and lay myself down.

  And slept for a long time; this is the only reason why I am so late.

  Third Brahmin:

  So, is it merely coincidence then that Dyumatsena sees again? I really doubt

  if you know all. Savitri, you, who radiates like the Goddess Savitri herself,

  If you do not need to keep silent, tell us all that you know.

  Savitri:

  I need to hide nothing; so you, wise ones, will hear all that has taken place.

  I once was foretold by Narada that Satyavant would

  Die today; so I did not leave from his side this day.

  And when he slept, Yama himself came, took away his life.

  I, however, followed the god, praising him with truth.

  Until he granted me five boons; I will tell them to you, sages:

  To the father of Satyavant the god gave back his eyes and his kingdom.

  To my father he then gave the sons that he so dearly wished;

  To Satyavant he granted yet that I would give him sons,

  And at last he returned to me the precious life of Satyavant.

  I performed the vow, you considered too hard for me,

  So that the life of Satyavant would be granted to me longer.

  Now you all know how my suffering changed to joy.

  Fourth Brahmin:

  The house, heretofore sunk in grief, you have, Savitri,

  Renewed to happiness and glory, by your faithfulness and piety.

  Thanks to you, a part of Yama’s promises are already fulfilled.

  The other boons too, certainly will come true.

  You, O, one, who gave these blessings, will forever be glorified.

  And where the virtue of women will ever be famed, may Savitri be mentioned first …

  Ashoka has delightedly followed the beautiful play. The mood of the play touches him, as it is wholly in harmony with his views on life. Does it matter whether someone honours Buddha’s doctrine or Brahmanism as long as an eye is kept on what rises above all sects and which actually is the essence of all sects.

  ‘Well,’ he asks Suryadatta, who approaches him together with Savitri. ‘You enacted a wonderful play; are you a Brahmin that you chose this lovely legend?’

  ‘I have taken the most beautiful there is of Brahmanism, Gracious Majesty, because all the sects originate from there. I knew of your sacred tolerance from the 12th rock-lipi.’

  Ashoka nods. ‘You are a great human being, Suryadatta. I think I understand now why you enacted the drama in Pali12.’

  ‘Lord, no one knows better than we, actors, how difficult it is in India, where each region is attached to its own language, to make oneself understood by the listeners. You have, noble Maharajah, made the link, you have bound them in a common language: Pali. And I think to act in your spirit when I perform my drama in that language, so that we can communicate the emotion that ‘Savitri’ can evoke, to everyone.’

  ‘There is no nobler deed than working for the welfare of all. Your work comes out of that spirit, Suryadatta. I give you this as a memento of my appreciation for your work.’ Ashoka takes a belt, beautifully embroidered with a choice of gemstones, and offers it to Suryadatta.

  ‘May sons and sons’ sons please you with valour, regally, and become renowned in the far future through your name, noble Maharajah.’

  ‘And you, great artist, have played Savitri strikingly.’

  ‘Lord, I do not play Savitri, I am Savitri’s incarnation as long as I express her. That is the art of Suryadatta, noble Maharajah.’

  ‘And yours! Receive this diadem from me. After all, you are a Yuvarani, now that Dyumatsena regained his kingdom.’

  With a laugh, ‘Savitri’ shows her gratitude for the precious gift. Then one of Ashoka’s pratidevakas approaches.

  ‘Well, Kushtra?’

  ‘Lord, the Agramahisi is seriously ill.’

  ‘When did you leave the capital?’ Ashoka asks, upset.

  ‘Ten days ago, Lord. I have been riding over Ayodhya in great haste.’

  Ashoka has everything prepared for the return journey. The farewell of Kunala and Kancha now worries him less.

  18

  DEMONS

  fter a few days the Maharajah arrives in Kausambi where he stays for the night. Karuvaki is deeply concerned about Asandhimitra’s illness. ‘At the mercy of Tishya Rakshita,’ is her first thought.

  ‘It would be a great misfortune for you, my Raja, to lose Asandhi.’

  ‘It is her
clear judgement that so often brought me back to myself whenever my unreasonableness would overwhelm me. I cannot bear the thought of losing her spiritual support and her keen manas, Karuvaki.’

  ‘I recognise her keen and pious mind, Lord. She never thinks of herself. Brahma however gives the human being at least one fault to set him apart from the devas.’

  ‘What do you mean, Karuvaki?’

  ‘Her love makes her blind to demons.’

  Ashoka raises his hand. ‘Tishya has her faults like you and me. But Asandhi knows them. Tishya is like her child. The young Kshatriya filled her with compassion. Why do you begrudge Tishya that act of grace? Asandhi also tried to give her happiness. What have you done, my Karuvaki?’

  ‘Nothing! You love your elephants, Lord, and your horses. And the animals reward you with their simple love and happiness. The peacocks in the park call out their joy when they see you. But why do you not caress the cobra crossing your path?’

  Ashoka makes an impatient gesture as Karuvaki goes on. ‘She is not happy, not cheerful, she only laughs to charm. She is not benevolent, not friendly, nor is she open-hearted and she knows no mercy!’

  ‘She loves Asandhi.’

  ‘Because from her alone can she expect protection.’

  ‘Because Asandhi is weak and needs support.’

  ‘That she gets as much as she wants. Tishya only wants to find favour with her.’

  ‘Karuvaki! You say harsh words about someone who is defenceless.’

  ‘Several times I have let her know what I think about her.’

  ‘I fear greatly that Asandhi will not survive this illness. Then you will have to return and make friends with Tishya.’

  ‘Lord, I do not wish to become the Agramahisi with Tishya by my side. Let me stay here in Kausambi, Lord. I will always be happy when you come to see me. I do not like imperial festivities, the pomp, assemblies of the parishad or the reception of the high envoys. I love my Lord and my child, the jungle and the Ganga.’

  Ashoka thinks wistfully of Asandhi who does love all this, because she fulfills a vocation and wishes to stand by him. Karuvaki remained the child of the Mahavana.

  In a swift journey of ten days, he travels to Pataliputra. Asandhi is seriously ill. Tishya, sobbing, receives him.

  ‘Come on, Tishya, you were so strong until now. I never saw tears. So enough. Do not alarm my Lord,’ the Agramahisi utters feebly.

  Ashoka gives a sign to Tishya to leave. Then he takes Asandhi’s hands.

  ‘How serious is the truth, my beloved Rani?’