Being
evoked by “meghamaslishtasanum / vaprakreda parinata gaja prekshneyam
dadarsa”—a cloud resting on
the mountain peak that charged the peak in mimic fray, / as an elephant attacks
a bank of earth in play—on “…Ashadhasya
prathama divase (MS s.2)—the first day of Ashadha, a
month in the Hindu calendar, the day when monsoon starts—poet Kalidasa romances
with megha by making the emaciated
protagonist of his kavya, ‘Meghaduta’, “bade him [megha] a welcome couched in
affectionate expressions, after worshipping him with fresh jasmine flowers”,
for, he is “desirous of sustaining the life of his beloved one, and of sending
news of his welfare to her [his wife] by the cloud” (MS s.4). And thus beginning his kavya ‘Meghaduta’, and adorning it with Vipralamba sringara rasa Kalidasa immortalized the words, “Ashadhasya prathama divase”—the beginning of
rainy season and the ‘romance’ of the Indians and Indian poets in particular with
varsha, rain, and the varsha ritu, rainy season.
The poet portrays the
love in severance, the longing and anguish of lovelorn Yaksha in the rainy
season as is reflected in the 3rd verse itself, where the poet very
provocatively questions in ‘mandakranta’, a prosody that could best
sing and linger the long-drawn out
plangency of longing in separation thus: “Meghaloke bhavati
sukhinopanyathavritti chetaha / Kanthasleshapranayini jane kim punardurasmathe (MS
s.3)— at the
sight of a cloud the feelings even of the happy are changed, how much more must
this be the case when the person longing for embracing the neck of his beloved
one is far away from her?”
The grief of separation being so intense that the Yaksha,
knowing fully well the nature of the cloud— “What possible connection can there
be between a cloud which consists of smoke, light, water and wind and messages
which can be carried by creatures endowed with sound organs of sense?” (MS s.5)
—yet, in all his eagerness and foolishness, implores thus: “O cloud, thou art
the refuge of the distressed; please, therefore, take to my beloved one a
message from me… thou art go to the seat of the Yakshas, called Alka” (MS s.7).
For, according to the poet, “… kamartah
prakritikrupanah chetana chetaneshu…” (MS s. 5)—the distracted lover fails
to note the distinction between the inanimate and the animate.
In a similar vein, he then offers directions to the cloud as
to how to reach his house in Alkapuri that affords him good visuals which could
beguile the fatigue of his journey. Here and there he also advises the megha to bestow his kindness on the
women “going to lovers’ houses at night … to show the path by lightning bright
like a streak of gold on a touch-stone and not to make noise by thundering and
discharge water, for they are timid” (MS s.39). Perhaps with a concern for the farming community, Yaksha
then advises Megha that it is not farmers alone, even their wives—“tyayyayattam krishiphalamiti bhruvikaranahhaznyha
/ preetisnigdhyrjana pada vadhulochanyha…” (MS s. 16)—who are “innocent of
all coquettish art” look at varsha [you]
with “loving glances", for on thee depends
the fragrant furrow’s fruitful outcome: the net result of ploughing the land,
sowing the seed, nurturing the shoots with appropriate manure to grow richly
till ripens and finally harvesting the crop—all that squarely rests with Megha [you] and the rains that you bless
them with.
Hastening back to his own plight, he also reminds cloud not
to forget his prayer half the way, of course, subtly saying, “…those who have
undertaken important business for their friends are never remiss” (MS s.40).
On reaching the top of the Himalayan mountain, Yaksha says, he [Megha] could see Alkapuri, “as
on lover’s lap, with her white garment in the shape of the Ganges disarranged,
with full of lofty palaces” (MS s.65). He then guiding him to his palace, advises
that he can identify his wife as “the
lady full of deep distress…changed like lotus creeper blighted by frost (MS s.84);
face resting on her hand and partially visible through dishevelled hair, eyes
swollen through bitter weeping, the lower lip assuming different color owing to
the heat of her sighs” (MS s.85) —and if she is not asleep, “O cloud, thou shouldest
say to her thus: 'Thy consort living in the hermitage of Ratnagiri is doing
well. O, fortunate one, do not be very much afraid; who enjoys constant happiness
or suffers uninterrupted misery?(MS s.114); “They
say love dies away during separation; [this is] a thoughtless assertion.
Affection becomes accumulated as its desire for the object loved is intensified
from non-enjoyment' (MS s.117); my curse will
come to an end when Vishnu rises from his serpent couch … pass the remaining
four months … afterwards, we shall enjoy in the light of autumnal moon…” (MS s.115).
Every year, as the monsoon rains set in, this cloud poem,
touching every reader with her cool fingers and consuming his/her heart with a
burning anguish revivifies him—the Sahrudaya,
besides gaining fresh youth for
itself. With every passing rainy season it becomes younger and younger for, no
soul can afford not to be moved by Kalidasa’s verses that are “smooth, like
blossom-clusters” depicting not only his love for nature, but also his respect
for “all life, from plant to god.”
Keywords: Kalidasa, Meghaduta, Meghasandesam...
0 comments:
Post a Comment