Swaveda

Manimekalai · Chapter 17

Chapter XVII — Chitrapathi Plots

Translated by Muriel M. Morrow and John Bateman (1928), The Indian Publishing House, Madras. Public domain. Source: archive.org item ims-0461-manimekalai-1928., 1928. Public domain.

Now Chitrapathi heard of the won-- drous deeds of Manimekalai, her daughter’s child. The old lady was sorely grieved. She felt as if an old wound had ‘been seared with a red-hot brand. She had a very hot temper, and now she boiled with. rage. She fumed at Madhavi. She stormed at Suthamathi. “Tll soon put an end to. all this nonsense!” she cried. ‘ My Mani- mekalai, so clever, so fair, turned into a begging nun! It is ashame! It is a disgrace! It is madness! I may be an old woman. No one, takes much account of me. But I am not an old fool. There is life in me still. I will teach these young folks a lesson!”

She called together all the dancing: girls.. To them she made asolemn vow. “Listen!” she said. “Madhavi was foolish to grieve so much for the death of Kovalan. She was still more foolish to enter a monastery. She is one: of us, a dancing girl. We are not born of noble parents. We none of us know our grandfathers. Nor do we care about that.. We are not the faithful wedded wives of rich. merchants. We do not pine when our husbands die. We do not rush to throw our--

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selves upon the pyre. We give pleasure to all. From all we receive pleasure. That is our special privilege. We are like lutes. The instrument does not perish at the death of its master, It lives on to delight the living. We are like the bees. They seek honey from the flower. The flower dies. What matter? There are other flowers. So when ‘one of us becomes a nun, men rightly laugh at us. They laugh at Madhavi. She gives herself airs.

“But that is not all. She has even ‘dragged Manimekalai into a holy house. Is it not nonsense? Never was such madness known in all the world. Manimekalai is the fairest of the fair. Sweetest of all singers is Manimekalai. Daintiest of all dancers is she. Besides, the Prince has set his heart upon her. He desires her beauty. He loves her. lam resolved to aid him. Let Mani- mekalai give up her alms bowl to someone else. She must mount the chariot of the Prince. She must ride through our streets in her triumph and pride. And this will I accomplish. This is my vow. If I fail, then shall I pay penance. I will become an out- cast from you all. I will walk before you, carrying seven bricks upon my head. I will

live apart with my disgrace. Never will I sully your thresholds with my footsteps. I swear it.”

Chitrapathi spoke proudly. She had no- fear of failure. She was resolute. Naught should withstand her. She set out for the Prince’s palace.

ready. She crossed the courtyard. The walks were covered with fresh sand. Flowers

bloomed on every side. The air was musical “with the murmur of innumerable bees.” Proudly she marched into the hall of audi- ence. It was built of splendid marble. Its lofty walls were covered with gold. Its. mighty pillars flashed with rare gems and precious stones. Its ceiling was ‘painted with pictures of great beauty, framed in costly pearls.

The noble Prince sat upon a flowery couch. Carved lions crouched beneath their burden. Their eyes gleamed in the changing light. Two lovely slaves stood by his couch. Their fans were of chamara, white as the foam of the sea.

Chitrapathi kissed the feet of the Prince. He mocked her gaily, saying, “How are Madhavi and Manimekalai? Do their gloomy costumes become their fair beauty?”

Chitrapathi answered, “I have come hither in great haste. I wish to serve my noble Prince. I have seen a rare and_ beautiful bud. It is just opening out, in the promise of all its wonder, It is a bud fit only for a royal bee. It blooms in the alms-house now. May thy garland never fade, O Prince. That is all my message for you. Is it not enough? Now, I pray you, let me go.”

Great was the surprise of the Prince. He knew well what was meant by her words. Manimekalait was in the city once more. At the thought of her nearness, his heart burst into flame again. So must a drowning man feel when araft comes to his hand. He spoke to Chitrapathi, “I searched for my fair one in the grove. A radiant maiden appeared before me. She reminded me of my duty as a Prince. She warned me to forget Manimekalai. Perhaps it was but a vision. Perhaps it was an angel. What should I doP What is your advice, -Chitrapathi?”

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The old woman smiled. ‘ You are a Prince,” she said, ‘Can a Prince not do everything ?. Even the gods cannot resist love. Love conquers all. Have you not heard of Indra himself? Did he not love Ahalya? Have you not heard of Agni, God of Fire, and his loves? Remember that Mani- mekalai is but a dancing girl. She is not of noble caste. It his her duty to amuse and delight. She ought to keep to her own pro- fession. What does she want with such high ideas? It is sheer nonsense. Your princely duty is to end such nonsense. Find her and take her. You love Manimekalai. Then she is yours,”

The mind of Prince Udhaya-kumaran changed with her words. His heart was hot with passion. It beat like a hammer in his breast. “Bring me my chariot!” he cried. His slaves ran to do his bidding. In a very short time, he was at Chakkaravala-kottam: and he went straight to the alms-house.

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