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Love Stories from The Mahabharata  
Sumukh and Gunakeshi – 8

Blood-thirsty Garud’s shadow has grown restless. For entering the recesses of the leafy hut two flaming eyes are drawing near.

Sumukh’s voice trembles in helpless distress, “Lost in dreams of immortality I had forgotten Gunakeshi that today is the last day of Garud’s vow. This evening is the last evening of my life.”
Gunakeshi shrieks in torment, “But you must not embrace death, son of Chikur!”
With a gentle smile Sumukh answers, “There is no alternative, Gunakeshi. From that terrible assault, protected by Vishnu’s blessing, how will a Naga brought up in the waters of Bhogvati save himself?”
“What is this Vishnu? What sort of blessing is this?” Churned up from within Gunakeshi, a fierce rebellion rears up as a harsh question.

The blessing of Vishnu, protector and maintainer of cosmic creation by whose grace all creatures born in the lap of the cosmos are cared for. With an unblinking gaze, like one absent-minded, as if in meditation stands and muses Gunakeshi. Then, slowly and gradually the shadow of a profound resolve trembles on Gunakeshi’s lips. As if her meditative form were straining to listen to the language of an incantation deep within and the music of some creative glory in the rushing bloodstream: “From the self of your beloved son of Chikur summon into the depths of your being new life, daughter of Matali. To destroy the emergence of life lies not within the daring of any terror protected by the grace of Vishnu. Not even Vishnu himself has that authority.”

Ravaging Garud’s shadow falls right on the entrance of the creeper-covered hut. At that instant like a bouquet of Parijat flowers flung up, uncovering the glory of her nubile body, Gunakeshi, daughter of Matali, falls on Sumukh’s breast:

“Before departing, make my dream come true, dear Naga youth.”
Sumukh: “Do not punish yourself thus, maiden!”
In the corners of Gunakeshi’s eyes two sweet and bright tears spring forth like pearls, “Do not question, do not be surprised, do not hesitate, beloved of Gunakeshi, son of Chikur. In Gunakeshi’s thirsting blood plant the seeds of your child’s being.”
“Gunakeshi!” In a honeyed, loving voice Sumukh calls.

To drown in sweetness the moment of Sumukh’s death, as though a tear-drenched and dream-immersed Parijat bouquet has lost itself in Sumukh’s embrace.

Stars awaken in the sky. Kissed by the night breeze the Mandaar scent droops into sleep. The moments of the last day of month afflicted by Garud’s heartless vow keep slipping away. The last hour of the night nears. Welcoming Sumukh’s embrace, overwhelmed lies the sacrifice of maiden Gunakeshi’s blooming youth.

The sky heralds the dawn; birds call. Garud did not get the chance to rend Sumukh’s breast with his claws. Despairing, Garud’s shadow moves away. Rending through the perfumed breeze of the Mandaar grove, frustrated Garud’s scorn is echoed: “Whore, daughter of Matali!”

– Continued

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