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Love Stories
from
The Mahabharata
Parikshit
and Sushobhana – 4
Companion
Subinita’s voice trembles with complaint,
“Too-beautiful princess, your beauty is very cruel. This beauty pierces the
heart of infatuated men, wounds them, enslaves them. The summons of your
voice, like a deceptive echo, maddens the heart of the hearer and vanishes
into space. Like sudden lightning, you only blind the wayfarer’s eyes and
disappear. You are beauty’s deceptive gambler. Everything is yours, except
for a heart.”
Instead of
getting annoyed with her companion’s accusations, Sushobhana laughs aloud in
delight,
“You are absolutely right, Subinita. I am glad to hear it.”
“Forgive your
maid’s garrulity, princess! May I speak the truth?”
“Speak!”
“I am
suffering.”
“Why?”
“I no longer
find joy in decorating this enchanting image of yours with ornaments. It
seems that in vain have I adorned you with so much care for so long.”
“In vain?”
“Yes, in
vain! One after another, in each of your loveless affairs have I reddened
the soles of your feet with lac in vain. It is in vain that with so much
care I have applied pollen on your lovely body. In vain have I, with
carefully applied collyrium, darkened these two eyes of yours to shame the
doe’s.”
“You have
done your duty, maid. But how dare you say it is in vain?”
“Not in
reckless daring, princess, but it is in deep sorrow that I speak. Till now
you have not fallen in love with anyone, you have not given due honour to
any loving heart. This form of love, so painstakingly created by my two
hands, returns every time only having pierced, wounded and torn apart the
lover’s heart. I get terrified, princess.”
In an
impassive voice Sushobhana asks, “Fear of what, maid?”
“After
finishing with each play-acting of love when you return to the palace,
princess, I look at your feet. It seems as if the lac on your feet has
returned even more red with the blood of some unfortunate lover’s wounded
heart.”
Shaking with
uncontrollable laughter, swaying her body intoxicated with the arrogance of
its youth, Sushobhana says,
“Your heart
fills with terror, maid, and I feel that my life as a woman is fulfilled.
One after another mighty, famous, arrogant monarchs hanker, like bees
maddened by lotus-scent, to kiss the reddened soles of these feet. The very
next instant, leaving only the vacant mist behind for the distracted man, I
come away forever. Tell me, friend, is there anything more fulfilling in a
woman’s life, a matter of greater pride, than this?”
“You have
misunderstood, princess. Such a life cannot be desired by any woman.”
“What is the
goal of woman’s life?”
“To be a
bride.”
–
Continued
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Love Stories
from
The Mahabharata
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