sakuntala, my own story. playwright: ismail choonara the stage is

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    Sakuntala, my own story. 11-09-2009Playwright: Ismail Choonara

    The stage is on a number of levels.

    There are gods, apsaras, humans and other non-human entities.

    Some action takes place in a forest, in a garden setting and in the palace.

    Time and the characters oscillate between the past and the present.

    Scene 1Prologue:

    (The Female Director and the two Actors are in modern casual clothes.

    They are standing on the stage apron in front of the drawn curtains).

    Director: The story of Sakuntala is a renowned classic but today we are going to

    present the play to you, a modern audience, by digressing and examiningsome untouched but related issues.

    Please bear with us as we unfold this tale.

    Actor1: Director, why are you imitating Kalidasa, why this need for a

    prologue?

    Director: Well, whether we like it or not the first thing these honourable people will

    do is to compare, and contrast, our play with Kalidasas epic.

    Look there, how they nod their heads even as we speak.

    Actor2: Yes, that is true. They are wondering what we are going to present.

    Director: Our aim is to present the story with a different slant; there is no thought ofchallenging the great masterpiece.

    Actor2: It is said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

    Director: Yes, in a sense we do imitate.

    Actor1: We begin with a prologue?

    Director: That is correct, with the prologue.

    Actor1: And what is to be the title of our play?

    Director: We could hardly call it The Recognition of Sakuntala.

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    Actor2: That would be too obvious.

    Actor1: So what should we call it then, this play?

    Actor2: Perhaps, simply Sakuntala.

    Actor1: What do you mean: Sakuntala or Simply Sakuntala?

    Actor2: Simply Sakuntala? No, that does not sound right.

    Actor1: Sakuntala, my story. Perhaps?

    Director: I have no trouble with that; it is what I am trying to do. Tell the story fromSakuntalas personal point of view.

    Actor2: Yes, that angle has to be explored, Director.

    Director: Everybody knows, or claim to know, that this is a very old story- trapped

    between myth and legend. And one suspects that, like most myths andlegends, it has links to some actual events that could have taken place

    in the distant past.

    Actor1: With time many a tale changes.

    Director: Yes, that is also true. Sakuntala is no different. We go back to Kalidasa,

    and find that he used the Mahabharata to dig out the essential elements.What he did not present were some of the events prior to Sakuntalas birth,

    and to Indras role in initiating the whole saga.

    It is also the tale of two kings, and two rishis.but enough of

    this, let us begin at the beginning

    The Director and the two Actors exit.

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    Scene 2- The stage with Sakuntala.

    There is a period of silence and the curtain opens to reveal three small platforms about

    a foot in height. In the semi-darkness are visible three figures on the platforms. In the

    centre is Sakuntala, age about 20, hair with a single braid. On her left is Visvamitra, arishi, 50+, sparsely dressed, in a posture of intense meditation and prayers, and on her

    right King Duhsanta, 30+, regal and carefree.

    They are static and appear almost like three statues.

    Gentle background sitar music is heard and then Sakuntala is illuminated.

    She steps down and moves to the centre.

    Sakuntala: I am Sakuntala.(Pause).

    This is my story.Sakuntala is my story (emphatic, and then a pause)

    and I am going to tell it in myown words.

    I am going to tell you my story, the story of the real Sakuntala.

    Me. Time will be everywhere; here, tomorrow and yesterday.

    My story is first related in the Mahabharata, by the bard Vaisampayama

    to the monarch, Janamejaya, a descendant of Bharata, who is my son.

    My life story has been turned into a famous play, by that great poet,

    Kalidasa.

    You all know about that. You all know about Kalidasas Sakuntala.

    There is no other drama to match it.

    Yes, his language is lyrical, very beautiful.

    But nowhere does it describe my inner feelings, my true feelings.

    Nowhere does Kalidasa talk about the shock when I was being violated.

    There is even a suggestion that I must have been jumping with joy

    because this royal stranger

    (points towards Duhsanta)

    had entered my body.

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    How old was I?

    Ponder for a moment. How old was I?

    In my teens?

    Me, a young girl, a sweet little thing, living in a hermitage.

    Almost a recluse.

    Is Kalidasa so ignorant, so nave to pass a major event in a young girls

    life as if it were of such minor importance, that it could be ignored?

    No. It cannot be ignored.

    No! Never!

    What happened to me is not insignificant.I repeat, it cannot be ignored.

    Unless one accepts that there is a conspiracy.

    So I will begin by telling you what I remember of my childhood and then

    describe the grand seduction in the grove by King Duhsanta.

    That is the main theme of the play, is it not?

    The seduction.

    Or should we call it rape?

    Is rape too strong a word?

    How would you describe it then?

    A teenage girl, an orphan by all counts, her guardian is away from the

    hermitage, sweet-talked by a man of the world, a stranger shown the

    normal courtesy of the hermitage, the hospitality of the hermitage.

    A complete stranger, this stranger, chasing a deer, hunting a deer, finds

    himself in the grove, and sees this girl. Talks to her, is charmed by her, or

    perhaps it is the other way round, charms her.

    How would any self-respecting father describe what happened afterwards?

    (Sakuntala rushes up to Visvamitra and confronts him. He continues his

    quiet chanting).

    This is my father, standing here.

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    How would you describe it?

    (Screams).

    Tell me, please tell me.

    Explain to me what transpired in that grove?

    Is rape is too strong a word?

    (Sakuntala moves away, head drooping).

    How can one excuse what happened,

    just because he is a king?

    Oh, I forgot. I did not have a father. I was a foundling.

    This father disowned me right from the very beginning.

    (Sakuntala edges towards Visvamitra, then walks away).

    Never mind.

    How would a father describe it? Any father?

    Rape?

    Is it too strong a word?I can use something milder? A lovers tryst?

    Ah, one must never forget that I did not have a father.No, that is not true.

    There is my father, standing before you.

    Let him answer you by his silence. Or by his chants.I never called him father, he never called me daughter.

    (Long pause).

    A father? What is a father?

    A real father?

    That feeling I do not know.

    I was brought up in the hermitage by the holy rishi, Lord Kanva, whom I

    thought, during all my childhood years, was my father.Baba, I called him. He called me daughter. But he was only my guardian.

    But it was my guardian who did not express any anger, any outrage.It was the legitimisation of the whole episode in the grove by Baba, my

    guardian, the holy rishi, Lord Kanva.

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    Please do not think I do not respect my guardian, that gentle and kind

    person, who brought me up, an orphan here in his hermitage.

    I could have been left in the forest; food for some wild animal.

    But that would have been contrary to the nature of the holy rishi.

    What hurts me is that he accepted what happened to me to in the grove

    without any sign of displeasure. No shock, no resentment, no horror.

    Is that how a father behaves? Is that how one expects a father to behave?

    How can any father accept that his teenage daughter, any daughter, can be

    so violated?

    No reaction?

    No retribution?

    No anger?

    I am congratulated on my choice. That is how Kalidasa describes it.

    Did I have a choice?

    Oh, foolish girl, did you have a choice? I ask myself.

    And Lady Gautami, the senior lady in the hermitage, she did not express

    any opinion whatsoever, either. A mother figure for me.

    What is the matter with the renowned writer, Kalidasa, and why has

    nobody questioned this in the years that the play has been read, performed,discussed?

    Is it because theatre is for men, by men?Yes, by men?

    Yes, discussed by men.

    Therein lie the conspiracy, this collusion of silence.

    Me a child? An orphan?

    Clothed. Fed. Laughing with friends.But bereft of bereft of what?

    How would I know what I lacked?

    And this other king. (Sakuntala moves to Duhsanta)

    This royal personage standing here.

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    No, I am not ungrateful to my lord and husband, the King Duhsanta, for

    taking me into his household, making me his queen. A father for our child.

    I do respect and love my husband.

    That is how it is described by Kalidasa.

    The whole tenor of the play is the great suffering of this poor king, hisunfortunate lapse, the failure of his memory, and then the sudden return of

    the memory on seeing the ring.

    The ring lost by me while bathing.Part of a curse, this losing of the ring.

    The ring swallowed by a fish.

    The fish caught by a fisherman.

    The gutted fish revealing the treasure.The fisherman caught trying to sell the ring.

    The poor fisherman taken for a thief.The alleged thief hauled before the king.

    And lo and behold -the kings memory returns.

    Search parties bring me before the king,a king who is so remorseful that it is embarrassing.

    After all I had been rejected,perhaps as a disreputable woman,

    perhaps as a gold-digger.

    I bring up my child, my son Bharata,

    with the help of the celestials,

    but it is mainly on my own.It sounds so magical, so plausible.

    I know many a woman, if she had realistic choices,

    would have not bothered to be with this king,after what he had done to me.

    If one is honest,then as women we do not have many realistic choices,

    not in our country, not in any country.

    Let me ask you one very simple question.

    Who keeps a tally of dowry deaths?

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    Yes, a tally? All those important officials?

    Do they keep a count?

    It is not the pundits who collect fat fees

    for making couples traipse round the holy fire,

    nor the marriage brokers, with their smarmy smiles,or the astrologers who plot out those auspicious charts.

    Well, I will leave all that to your imagination.

    I can see people shifting in their seats, so I will stop preaching.

    Let us begin at the beginning. With the story of my father, King Kaushika,the first of these two kings.

    (Sakuntala moves away from centre stage and Visvamitra is illuminated. He stepsdown the platform and steps to one side of the stage. He stands absolutely still inthe pose on intense meditation. Duhsanta moves out unobtrusively).

    Sakuntala: The rishis, by their prayers and austerities, accumulate great powers, and

    these may be used to disturb the status of the gods themselves.

    We have to look at the god, Indra, and his role in my saga, in my story.

    (Pause. Then she exits).

    The scene merges with Visvamitra standing on one side in the posture of intensemeditation, and that is how the next scene opens.

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    engaged in this chanting, this endless singing of the hymns.

    Indra: Yes, these hymns to Lord Siva worry me. They bestow unlimited powers,and thus threaten the order of things.

    It can lead to untold mischief.

    Menaka: He stands in silent prayers,

    undisturbed as the morning dew on grass.

    Indra: Do not be fooled, Menaka.

    Yes, he may stand in silent prayer,

    but unbridled thoughtsstill race through his mind.

    That man harbours ambition:

    born a Kshatriya, a prince, a king,now he seeks a different role.

    Outwardly humble,

    but envious of his neighbour,

    the Brahmin sage, Vasishta.

    Menaka: They belong to two different Varnas.

    The barrier cannot be crossed.

    That is written.

    Indra: The barrier has been crossed.

    Thoughts and ambition have no limits.Where need arises, men, and Gods play,

    and act by different rules.

    Go now, do what you know best,

    what you do best.

    Scene fade out as Menaka is waved away. She leaves.

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    Scene 4 The seduction.

    The stage is illuminated. Visvamitra is in the pose of intense meditation and prayers.

    Menaka enters in a suggestive garb and dances her way in front of the rishi, who ispraying. Her dance is similar to the Dance of the Veils (Salome), and Viswamitra is

    disturbed, tempted as the light dims to the seduction, with suitable music.

    Visvamitras eyes, reluctant at first, follow Menaka. He gets up and pursues Menaka.

    Then as she nears he makes a grab, and sound of chasing is heard.

    The lights fade. There is laughter, giggles and disjointed phrases as the seduction takes

    place.

    After a suitable interval thunder and lightning brings to end the seduction scene. An

    embarrassed rishi stands forlorn on the stage, runs around, takes a switch and flayshimself, then pours water on his body to cleanse himself to what sounds like a mockingchantand Menakas laughter.

    Fade out of the scene.

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    Scene 5 The rejection by Visvamitra. Visvamitra, Menaka and baby.

    Off-stage voice: Spring was the time of the seduction,

    then the hot summer.The dry earth cried out.

    Dust was being blown everywhere.

    The cries of the thirsty animals were heard all round.Lord Indra released the clouds,

    the rains fell, the green shoots danced,

    ripened, then the harvest was gathered,

    the lamps lit for Dipavali,and lo winter crept in, cold and quiet.

    Now, look once again the new blossoms

    deck the mango trees, bees hover and dance.

    It is holi: colours everywhere.The young ones run, the old hobble,

    but they all laugh, scream.There is such joy in the air.

    Spring is here.

    A year has passed.

    Look, who comes.

    (Visvamitra enters and stands in the pose of intense silent prayer.

    Menaka enters with a child in her arms. The baby cries.

    Visvamitra looks at the pair and turns his back on them.He moves away and Menaka pursues him, and confronts him).

    Menaka: My lord, why turn away?

    Visvamitra: I am preparing for my prayers.

    Menaka: Do you not recognise me?

    Visvamitra: I know you not.

    Menaka: Know me not?Look, this beautiful child.

    Visvamitra: I know not that child.

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    Menaka: Look at her eyes, her dark hair.

    (Visvamitra stands in the pose of absolute silence).

    Menaka: This beautiful baby, this innocent child.

    Visvamitra: Let me be. I am engaged in prayers.

    Menaka: What prayer is more sublimethan the smile of an infant child?

    Visvamitra: I gave up the world

    to devote myself to Siva, my Lord.Let me pray in peace.

    I know you not.

    Menaka: You know me not?Nor this child?

    What kind of prayers do you offer?

    What wrong has this child,

    your child, done to you?

    Visvamitra: (Angry). Alone,

    you move about in this forest.Where is your home, your family?

    A husband, a brother, a father?Nobody to guard your honour?

    You accost the first stranger?What are you? Who are you?

    Some devadasi, some temple girl?

    Go, seek shelter,the clouds gather,

    an early storm brews,

    I hear Indras thunder.

    You should not be out in this forest,

    alone with an infant.

    That child needs cover.

    Go. Go, from here.

    Let me be.

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    Menaka: These are fine and angry words.

    The accent from some courtly language,

    refined, noble, but heartless.

    Listen not to me,

    listen to this child of yours.Look, this beautiful child.

    Visvamitra: I gave up my kingdom,in solitude I devote myself to prayers,

    my service to the Unseen one.

    This is the path I have chosen,one that I have followed this past year,

    these past years, in intense prayers,

    austerities that have reduced me to this skeleton.

    Starving, I stole dog meat from an untouchable,

    sin after major sin I have committed,to remain alive,

    to pursue this one path,

    and on this chosen path I shall remain.

    I shall not be moved from this resolve,nothing will be altered,

    nothing changed.

    Menaka: These are fine words.

    They do not hide

    the empty thoughts.

    If Lord Indras thunderbolt struck you now,

    reduced you to a pile of smouldering ashes,that be scattered in the wind,

    that would be just reward

    for this endless chanting.

    Turn your back. Yes.

    Go, you go,

    you heartless one.

    Count your beads,

    intone your prayers.fill the forest with your hymns,

    if perchance you hear a baby cry ignore,

    or pay heed, it will be your child that cries,

    your child, holy man, your child.

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    (Visvamitra hurriedly exits, Menaka continues speaking).

    Yes, these are the ways of men,

    Kings they be, or peasants,

    holy men, or sinners.

    Women are of no consequence,

    a convenience, a passing show,to be discarded,

    like a broken cup or an old sandal.

    My task is complete.I must return to Lord Indras court,

    but first I must place this child

    in some safety,

    that much I can do,that much I must do.

    I am no nurse-maid,

    nor spend my days breast-feeding,

    that role is for one more motherly,

    I cannot wet-nurse.I cannot do more.

    (Menaka quietly prepares the ground near a tree, and places the child there).

    Yes, this path leads to Malini River.

    Women collecting water,pilgrims and travellers,

    they walk this way,

    someone will take this child.I cannot do more.

    (And giving one last look Menaka departs. There is a single spotlight on the

    bundle on the ground the baby under a tree).

    Scene end

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    Scene 6 The birds.

    (There is soothing flute music and then slowly a number of Bird-dancers appear,

    first one and then a few. They dance hesitatingly, then rapidly. There is the noise

    of all the Birds talking, a scramble to hold the child as they give it comfort and

    protection from the harsh sunlight. They coo and fuss, and take turns in looking

    after the child.

    They sing a lullaby and the child falls asleep. The baby is put back on the ground.The dancers move away. There is intense silence.

    Lord Kanva, another rishi, appears carrying a small cloth bundle or a towel.

    The Birds surround him, fingers on the lips, not letting him move).

    The Birds: Hush, there is a child asleep.

    A fellow rishis child,

    abandoned here.

    Hush, the child sleeps,an Apsara left a child

    by the River Malini.

    Come, it is an innocent child,we shaded her from the morning sun,

    gentle air with our wings we bathed her,

    this lady child.Come, this way.

    Kanva: A rishis child, you say?An Apsara, you say?

    Was it Menaka?

    The Birds: Yes, yes, yes,

    it was the beautiful Menaka,

    left the child under the tree,

    carefully placed.

    Kanva: A rishis child,

    Visvamitra?

    The Birds: Yes, yes, yes,

    the holy sage refused to look,turned his back,

    started chanting hymns,

    can you not hear?

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    Listen,

    the hymns fill the air,

    morning, noon, and nightthe hymns fill the forest.

    The holy sage, Visvamitra,sings the praises of Lord Siva.

    (The Birds whisper, tell him of the child and lead him to the child.

    After some hesitation he takes the child and speaks):

    Kanva: Little one, it seems that you have been abandoned here?

    (Looks around, the Birds flap about, to indicate their consternation).

    How thoughtless, how sad,such innocent eyes,

    sparkling with love.What shall we call thee, little one?

    Am I holding you right?

    Where is your mother?Menaka?

    That woman, is she not heart-broken

    to leave you here?No, an Apsara, this is not the first time.

    She is wanton,

    a temptress, without feeling.Does she not suffer?

    What unkind fate for this child.What fault is it of yours, little one?

    You are an innocent child?

    We pray, hymns we chant,and a little one is left alone here.

    If these Birds had not guarded you,

    watched over you,you could have been food for some stray dog,

    a starving fox, a hungry bear?

    Ah. Let us leave such unwelcome thoughts.

    What shall we call you, little child?

    We need a fitting name?

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    (The Birds fuss around the child without making much noise.

    Kanva, holding the child lovingly, prepares to return to the hermitage).

    Yes, I hear these Birds,these Sakunta birds have taken care of you,

    Yes, we shall call you Sakuntala,

    fittingly their name will live with yours,for evermore.

    Yes, we will call you Sakuntala,

    Gautami will be your motherin our hermitage.

    (There is a further dance of joy, then the Birds leave, and Kanva takes the child

    with him).

    End of scene.

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    Scene 7 ( Puberty and the awareness of the world.).

    (Sakuntala, as a very young girl, is crying in the garden. Gautami enters).

    Gautami: What is the matter my child. Come. Why these tears?

    (Comforts and coaxes her to speak).

    Sakuntala: (Sobs) I am going to die. I am going to die.

    Gautami: Hush, what nonsense are you talking about?

    Come tell me what is the matter with you?

    Sakuntala: I am bleeding. I am bleeding! I am going to bleed to death.

    Gautami: Where are you bleeding? I do not see any blood. Did you fall down?

    Bump somewhere? Come, let me look.

    (More uncontrolled sobbing).

    Sakuntala: I am .. bleeding from my stomach.. here and here.

    I cannot breathe.

    I am sure I am dying.

    Gautami: Oh, my precious one.. my precious one. you are a young woman

    now. Come, come. This is nothing to be frightened of.You have grown so fast,

    and yet remain such an innocent child.

    I should have talked to you.

    Told you things

    a young girl needs to know.

    Come with me,

    we will repair somewhere quiet,

    we will talk.

    Days playing with dolls are over.

    You are a young lady now.We will talk,

    There are different rules to follow,conduct becoming a young lady,

    barriers that cannot be crossed,

    you are a young lady now.

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    This bleeding happens to all ladies,

    once a month we are cursed,

    prohibited from entering the temple,stopped from chanting hymns.

    It is all part of being a woman.

    Sakuntala: I do not understand.

    Why should it be so?

    Gautami: Why it should be so

    one knows not?

    It is the same with lady cats, also.

    Sakuntala: Are cats not allowed to chant hymns,

    or enter the temple?

    Gautami: Oh, you silly girl, what are you talking about?

    Sakuntala: I wont die, will I?

    Gautami: No, my precious, you will not die.

    Come, we will go inside.We will change into some clean clothes.

    I will get you a cup of hot milk,

    and then you can lie down and rest.You will not die.

    In a few days you will be running again in the grove,

    laughing with your friends.

    Come we will talk.

    You are a young lady, now.

    (They both leave).

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    Scene 8

    (Scene with Sakuntala, in her late teens, a pretty lady, lying on the couch, it is

    night, and in the sky there is the moon. She stretches, sits up).

    What is happening to me?

    This melancholy mood girdles mein a such a tight embrace: I cannot breathe.

    I do not know what it is?In my heart is a deep longing that has no name.

    (Gets off the couch, moves about).

    Gliding behind silver clouds the moon hides,

    it shows its wan face.

    I see playful shadows race, chase each other.

    Sleep does not come. I toss and turn.

    There is such a pain in my heart,I cannot reason why.

    Whose touch do I seek?

    Whose touch will comfort me?

    Strange thoughts race through my mind,

    what is happening to me?

    One moment my body is on fire,then a cold shiver runs down my spine.

    I am frightened.What is it that grips me in this fear?

    Why is one so alone?That I do not understand.

    I am surrounded by friendly faces:

    Baba, Lady Gautami,my bosom friends Priyamwada and Anasuya,

    all the disciples in the hermitage,

    and yet an emptiness surround me,why, why, why?

    (Walks to the balcony, looks at the reflection of the moon in the pool, sighs, walks

    aimlessly, goes back to the couch and lies down).

    End of the scene.

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    Scene 9

    In a garden. Sakuntala, Anasuya and Priyamwada. The three teen-age girls all

    rush in, all shouting, playful in a light-hearted manner. They all move about in an

    uncoordinated manner, collecting flowers, making small garlands and are in a

    frivolous mood.Sakuntala is separated from the other two.

    Anasuya: Sometimes Sakuntala is so serious, I am afraid she might burst into tears.

    Priyamwada: Why so? I did not notice.

    Perhaps some thing is worrying her.

    Let us ask her. I will wrap this pretty garland round her neck.

    (They move towards Sakuntala, run around her and place the garland round herneck).

    Sakuntala: Why this? I am not getting married.

    Priyamwada: You will be, soon.

    Sakuntala: How do you know?

    Did some celestial give you the message?Or was it another of your dreams?

    Anasuya: She dreamt that three princes were going to raid the hermitage and carryus off.

    Sakuntala: On elephants?

    Priyamwada:No, on pure white horses.

    Sakuntala: Baba told me that in the past they used to let a white horse roam free for a

    whole year and then sacrifice it.

    Anasuya: You always spoil things.Talking of death and things like that.

    Priyamwada:No. she doesnt.

    Sakuntala: Stop it. Stop it, you two. (She bursts into tears).

    (The other two stand staring at Sakuntala.

    And then rush to her, trying to console her).

    Priyamwada: Please Sakuntala, do not cry.

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    Anasuya: You are so sad these days, it makes us so unhappy.

    Please tell us what is worrying you?

    Priyamwada: We are your friends.

    Everything is so sad when you are sad.Even the garden does not cheer us anymore.

    Come let me wipe away your tears.

    Anasuya: Please tell us what is worrying you.

    Sakuntala: Nobody is going to marry me.

    Priyamwada: Oh, Sakuntala, you are so silly. Baba is so well-known, so holy.

    Anasuya: He will invite all the princes and kings to the hermitage, hold a

    swayamvara, a gathering of all the eligible young men, and you willchoose the most handsome of men as your groom.

    Priyamwada: And perhaps we will have a choice from the other princes. Perhaps there

    will be three brothers and then we could all live in same palace, be

    together always.

    Anasuya: We will have a big wedding, all the three of us. I will pick all the flowers

    from the grove to make the prettiest garland for you, my dearest,

    dearest, Sakuntala.

    (She grabs Sakuntala and dances around the garden).

    (Sakuntala breaks free and collapses sobbing onto a seat).

    Sakuntala: Baba is not my baba. He is not my father.

    Priyamwada: What nonsense are you talking about?

    Anasuya, have you heard anything so preposterous?

    Anasuya: What are you saying, Sakuntala?

    Sakuntala: I asked Lady Gautami who my mother was.For a long time I wondered who my father was.

    Baba is a celebrated celibate. He found me in the woods.

    I was abandoned by an Apsara,in a forest not afar from this hermitage,

    on the banks of the Malini River.

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    My mother is Menaka.

    She left me.

    My father, is a renowned sage, of the royal house,

    the Kaushika clan, he disowned me.

    I am nobody, nothing.

    You are all I that I have, you two friends.

    Who will marry me, tell me?

    Will some celestial carry me heaven-wards,join me to my mother whom I know not?

    No father, no mother?

    I am frightened to leave this grove,

    it is filled with our laughter,this is where my tears fell,

    where I fell and cut myself,

    look, the scar is still on the back of my hand.

    All I remember is here,

    amongst these trees, these flowers,

    these paths that twist and turn.

    Oh, beloved Anasuya,

    Oh, lovely Priyamwada,you ask me why I am so sad?

    What can I tell you?

    What is there to tell you?

    I cry alone.

    one is so alone.

    Now you know,

    my true, true friends,now you know.

    Anasuya: No, that is not true.

    Priyamwada: We are with you. We will always be with you.

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    Sakuntala: No. One is always alone.

    When the lamp is blown out the only light is from the stars,

    they watch, even when the sky is clouded over,they are there, so far, far away.

    Anasuya: You have become so burdened by these thoughts,you have forgotten to laugh, my dearest, dearest Sakuntala.

    Please do not be so sad.

    Priyamwada: We are young, our life is in front of us.

    Sakuntala: Yes, our life is front of us. That is what frightens me.

    Anasuya: Oh, you are silly to worry about these things.

    Come. Let us collect some more flowers.

    We will take these to Lady Gautami. She will be pleased.

    (The two friends laugh, and pull Sakuntala through the garden and exit).

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    Scene 10 11th September, 2009 Part 2

    In a clearing in a wooded area. Mid-morning. The Director enters, looks around.

    Visvamitra is standing on a platform chanting hymns while Duhsanta moves around in a

    restless manner. He goes towards Visvamitra.

    Director: Here we have the two kings. This is their story, and of course Sakuntalas.

    Here is Visvamitra, a rishi, a holy man, reputed to have a short temper anda nasty temperament, but he has performed many tapas and austerities.

    This had earned him merits such that he has received numerous hymns

    and other revelations. These have been gathered by the priests and other

    learned persons and these have become part of the religious rituals.

    In contrast we have this pleasure-loving king Duhsanta. He is out hunting,

    he follows a young buck and ends up in the grove, part of the rishi

    Lord Kanvas ashram. That is where the first encounter between the kingand the young girl, Sakuntala, takes place.

    But I have said enough, I must leave and let the story unfold..

    (The Director moves out).

    (Duhsanta moves in front of Visvamitra and addresses him).

    Duhsanta: You must have recited ten thousand hymns by now.

    (Visvamitra is a little uneasy, trying hard not to be distracted).

    Day after day, the same chants.

    Look how your body has wasted away.Look at your clothes, just rags.

    One must have some standards,

    one must have some purpose in what one is doing.

    (Pauses, then shakes his head).

    We are two kings, you and I.I could be chanting these hymns and you standing here.

    What would be the difference?

    (Visvamitra steps down and confronts Duhsanta).

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    Visvamitra: You dont see any difference?

    No?

    Then you must be ignorant.

    Duhsanta: Ignorant?

    You calling me ignorant?

    (He touches his side as if feeling for his sword, then looks around and picks up alargish stick).

    Visvamitra: You are going to hit me with a lathi?

    Without a sword you are nothing.Helpless.

    Naked, like a monkey.

    (Duhsanta raises the stick in a threatening manner. Visvamitra stands hisground).

    Visvamitra: Go on. Hit me.

    Are you going to use it?

    No?Then throw it away. It serves no purpose.

    Tell me what are you worried about?What is stopping you?

    You want Madhavya to help you?

    Duhsanta: (He throws the stick away). Madhavya is my personal attendant.

    No, he is more than that, he is my friend.

    But I suppose these things are not important to you now that you

    have given up everything.

    Visvamitra: I have a purpose in what I am doing.

    A higher purpose.

    But you would not understand.

    Duhsanta: What purpose?

    Chanting hymns to these flowers, these trees, the bees?

    Visvamitra: You are singularly ignorant!

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    Duhsanta: (Angry) This is the second time you are calling me ignorant.

    (Searches and picks up the stick again, then throws is away).

    You are so thin and scraggy otherwise I would smash your head in.

    Visvamitra: You think so? You forget I was a Kshatriya before I became a Brahmin.

    Duhsanta: By chanting hymns? Ha! You can only be born a Brahmin.

    Visvamitra: Brahma came on a white bull, elevated me.

    As a Bramarishi we are the custodians of the Holy Scriptures.We memorise the hymns, the Vedas, the holy scriptures:

    Sacred words that have been revealed to us.

    But why am I wasting my time talking to you?

    (Steps onto the platform, closes his eyes and begins the silent chanting again).

    Duhsanta: I do not understand you at all.

    As a matter of fact I do not understand anything really.

    Visvamitra: All you want is for me to look presentable.

    For you clothes, jewellery, these are important.

    They bind you. Get rid of them.

    Possessions take possession of ones soul.

    These material things encircle, and finally you are imprisoned.

    The very possessions smother you.

    Do you understand what I am saying?

    Duhsanta: You think I am stupid.

    Of course I understand what you are saying.

    Visvamitra: Look at you. How free, how liberated are you?

    Duhsanta: I am a king. I have my court. My duties.

    If I am alone I feel very uneasy.

    I need people around me.

    I mean do you not feel uneasy when you are all by yourself?

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    Visvamitra: No. Should I?

    I chose this life.

    Duhsanta: Do you know why you are here?

    You, and I?And Sakuntala?

    We must not forget her.

    Visvamitra: I see nothing, but us.

    Duhsanta: She is here, right here, with us, not in body, but here.

    That is what the play is about. About Sakuntala.

    She is tied to us, to both of us, you and I.

    Her heavy presence, can you not feel it, sense it?

    Why have we not moved from here?

    Why have we not left?

    Gone far away from here?

    No, you cannot leave because you have to chant these hymns.

    A thousand times, ten thousand times, perhaps?

    How many?

    Is anybody counting?

    (Pause).

    Does it matter? I mean does it really matter?

    Dont you ever tire of this eternal chanting?

    No, I suppose not, otherwise you would have stopped long time ago.

    Perhaps you would like to stop, but cannot.

    Arent you going to say anything?

    (Silence).

    No, I suppose not.

    I mean at some point you must question what it is all about.

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    What life is about?

    I mean you were a king once.And you gave up everything,

    so that you could chant away to your hearts content.

    It must give you some satisfaction to do what you re doing,

    otherwise you would have stopped.

    Or is it remorse that you feel, for all the butchery.

    I understand that you have a nasty temper.

    Ever eager to fight.

    And you are ambitious.How many people died in your battles?

    You were involved in a long conflict with another rishi, what was he

    called. Vastha? No. No. It was Vasishta. Yes? Vasishta.

    What was it about?

    Oh yes, I remember, it was for Sambala, the Cow of Plenty.

    You had to have it. You even stole it?

    What did you hope to achieve?

    I thought the whole idea of renunciation was to have no possessions.

    It seems so pointless to me, all this sacrifice.

    Look at you. Just look at you. Look at your clothes, the rags.One could hardly call them clothes.

    (Visvamitra jumps off and grabs Duhsanta by the throat!).

    Visvamitra: Stop! Stop!

    Dont you ever stop talking?

    Cant you leave me alone?

    I am not doing you any harm.Leave me alone.

    (Visvamitra pushes him and they both tumble to the ground, they continue

    grappling with each other, then both struggle up and separate).

    Visvamitra: Just leave me alone.

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    (Duhsanta shakes off the dust from his clothes. He moves back, is somewhatshocked. Visvamitra stays where he is).

    Duhsanta: I seem. to have. upset you. I am sorry,.. I really am.

    (Visvamitra stands absolutely still).

    Duhsanta: If Madhavya had been here. he would have told me what to do.

    I wonder where he is? .My jester and companion.Why he is not here when I need him?

    One cannot depend on anybody.

    Did you find that? When you were a king?I mean all those court attendants, running this way and that way, . doing

    nothing.. Trying to look busy,.. trying to look important.

    As if the whole state administration was waiting. to collapse .. if

    they stopped.

    Visvamitra: Dont you ever stop talking?

    Duhsanta: Does my talking disturb you then?

    Visvamitra: No, it does not disturb me.Nothing disturbs me.

    Duhsanta: You attacked me.You were choking me just now.

    Visvamitra: Choked you?You would have been dead by now had I really choked you.

    (Pause).

    You do not know how your voice grates the ears.

    Duhsanta: My voice?Is that what upsets you?

    I am sorry but it is the only voice I have. (He laughs).

    I was frightened, I must confess. You are so unpredictable.

    (Pause).

    You were a king once? Why did you give it up?

    Visvamitra: For nothing.

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    Duhsanta: What do you mean for nothing?

    It makes no sense.

    (Visvamitra points in front, and there issilence as the two kings stare in the

    direction pointed).

    Duhsanta: What is there? I do not see anything.

    Visvamitra: There is nothing.

    Duhsanta: Nothing?

    Visvamitra: When one sees nothing one sees everything.

    Duhsanta: Next you will tell me that the tree is in a seed,

    the earth in a grain of sand,and the ocean in a drop of water.

    Yes, I have heard those philosophical arguments.

    But I worry about more mundane matters,

    for instance what happens in my court.

    I wonder if Madhavya is running the affairs of the state and Vasumati,

    the Chief Queen, has not placed her brother, Mitra-vasu, on my throne.

    These are some of the many problems facing a king.

    (Comes closer to Visvamitra).

    But you have none of these worries. You have renounced all that.

    Tell me why? Then perhaps I might join you.

    Visvamitra: If a Brahmin approaches you on a narrow mountain pass who should stepaside?

    Duhsanta: Is it important? I mean you have to go beyond each other.What harm does a little courtesy generate?

    Visvamitra: Courtesy is one thing, respect is another.A Brahmarishi is what I set out to be. All my privations, all my prayers

    were such that I achieved the goal I set out to achieve.

    Duhsanta: Without dying and being reborn?

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    Visvamitra: Without dying and being reborn.

    Duhsanta: Now I understand.

    Visvamistra: No, you do not understand. Has Kalidasa mentioned me in his play?The whole play is about you and Sakuntala.

    Duhsanta: Yes. It is true. But there is the mention that Sakuntalas real father is theRoyal Sage of the Kusika clan. So you are His Holiness Kausika.

    Visvamitra: Yes, notwithstanding my rags.

    Respect and acknowledgement requires more than a brief mention.

    Duhsanta: Yes, I agree with you there.

    But to change the subject I must tell you about a most unusual experience

    that I had. If you would care to listen?

    Visvamitra: Yes, I will listen. Nothing is going to stop you from talking.

    Duhsanta: Once we were out at night hunting. Ours was a small party moving quietly

    through a wooded stretch of land. It was a little just before sunrise. The

    light gentle, everything peaceful and quiet, the only sound the beginningsof bird chatter. We stopped as there was an unmistakeable smell of wood

    fire. Then we heard some indistinct singing and we proceeded in that

    direction. In a clearing we saw a group of Brahmins around a fire-pit,chanting hymns. We stood in silence and watched. From time to time

    somebody would pour ghee on the fire. It would hiss and flare, the flames

    would light up the faces, the branches, everything, and send a stream ofsparks swirling into the air.

    Visvamitra: They would have been involved in sacrificial rituals to Agni, the fire-god.

    Duhsanta: Yes, later they told us that as they shared the cakes that some women,

    who were working nearby, had made from pounded rice.

    (Pause).

    Listening to those early morning chants, looking at the crackling fire,seeing the intensity of devotion and serenity on the faces of those

    Brahmins, in that subdued pre-dawn light, was a unique experience.

    Visvamitra: The Supreme Lord works in mysterious ways. You were blessed.

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    Duhsamta: Is that what you hope to achieve, some kind of blessing, some kind of

    spiritual uplift. Is that what makes a person give up all the comforts of the

    court and live here, starve here, in these woods.

    Visvamitra: Listen carefully to what I have to say.

    Without interruption listen, pay heed and you may learn something.

    Duhsanta: I promise.

    Visvamitra: I spent a major part of my life at the royal palace, first as crown prince and

    then as king.

    Duhsanta: A successful reign by all accounts.

    Visvamitra: Yes, the people were contented.

    Duhsanta: And you relinquished your position voluntarily?

    Visvamitra: Yes, that is correct, voluntarily.

    Duhsanta: Why?

    Visvamitra: I would spend half of each day attending to the state affairs. Then therewere matters within the royal family that also required my attention. Later

    in the evenings there were the royal or state functions, the entertaining of

    visiting royalties.

    Duhsanta: Yes, I know.

    Visvamitra: It was an endless cycle of similar activities.

    Duhsanta: A routine, one cannot get away from it. I know.

    Visvamitra: I was living the same life everyday.

    (Said very slowly).

    Duhsanta: That is a very profound observation: I was living the same life every day.

    (Also said very slowly).

    Visvamitra: Yes, most of us live a very regular life, a routine that numbs us such thatwe do not even notice the monotony of our actions. There has to be more

    to life than this daily round of the same set of actions.

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    Duhsanta: What about hunting. It is an exciting sport; the stalking, the chase, the

    challenge, especially when the big man-eaters are involved.

    Visvamitra: Killing animals, for sport? I could not do that. All life is sacred.

    Duhsanta: What about killing people, in battles. You have been involved in that.

    Visvamitra: That was legitimate. That is what the Kshatriyas do, they make wars.

    (Sakuntala rushes in).

    Sakuntala: No. No. No.

    Kshatriyas make widows.

    For men everything is legitimate.

    War, rape, possessions.

    Is it we women who become widows, we bring up the orphans, care

    for the children who have lost everything.

    And we must count ourselves fortunate that our heads are not shaven, we

    are not banished to Vrindavan.

    Visvamitra: You women have your duties, your responsibilities. We have ours.

    That is how it is has been ordained.

    Sakuntala: Yes, that is what the Brahmins keep saying.

    Nobody questions that.

    It is in the Vedas.

    And who are the Brahmins?

    Men. Privileged men.

    Year after year I heard the same words in the hermitage, words as if

    these were engraved on stone, solid like the temple.

    Nobody to challenge the Brahmins.

    A small group of people maintain the superior position without

    the need of physical force because the religious sanctions are too

    powerful, too dominating.

    Visvamitra: You are making such pronounced statements, how or where did you gain

    all this new insight?

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    Sakuntala: Look at you two, one my father, who had nothing to do with me.

    A father has duties, laid out in the Vedas?No?

    You were not there. As a father.You could not teach me anything.

    What kind of father are you?

    Visvamitra: I am destined for great things. That is the reason why I do what I do.

    I could not be a father to you. I am to look after Ram, and Sita.

    Besides how do I know that you are my child?

    Your mother is an Apsara?

    Menaka?

    Did she not have another child, left outside a hermitage?

    Quite a habit she makes, leaving little ones.

    Sakuntala: Yes, quite a habit my mother makes, of leaving little ones.

    And rishis, they falter? No?

    I should be honoured.

    I am the twice disowned,

    by two kings.That should make me proud.

    Alas, I am a beggar now.

    Misfortune followed me from birth.

    Misfortune has been my constant companion,save for those innocent years in the hermitage.

    I left that blissful place full of hope,

    full of dreams,quietly repeating the promises made,

    by this king. (Points).

    How nave, how gullible, how foolish to believe

    in scented words:

    I was going to the palace, to be a queen.

    Then I found myself pregnant.

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    Oh foolish virgin,

    you were secretly wed in a Gandharva rite:

    so convenient for this king.

    Where do I stand now, where do I fit it?

    What do I know of men?

    What was I thinking of?

    What was the rush that I could not wait?Not wait till my guardian returned?

    (Rushes to Duhsanta).

    No, this great king could not wait.

    Could not wait till my guardian returned.

    What was the hurry?

    Then leaving me all alone.

    It is too late now for tears.They will be wasted.

    Do I go back to the hermitage?

    To that familiar abode?To the grove where I was deflowered?

    Can I go back?Could I go back?

    How can I do that?burden my guardian, with this humiliation.

    It is complete, and even more so for that kind sage.

    How could I stand before him

    with a child?

    A gentle soul who took me, as a child,

    from the banks of Malini river.Have I not been blessed

    by the care of such a holy man?

    A gentler and kinder spirit does not exist,

    Lord Kanva is unique, such noble people

    are difficult to find.

    How can I burden him now?

    And with a child?

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    I had no mother to hold my hand,

    though unbounded was Lady Gautamis love,

    On her I cannot place another burden.

    Her heart is still so full of love,

    but her body is frail.

    I prayed that Bhoomi Devi should open the earth,

    should swallow me, so that I could disappear.

    Stop. I said to myself, stop.

    Such thoughts should be a stranger,

    how can I be so heartlessto think such selfish thoughts.

    I have a child to look after.

    Hearken, you two kings:

    I promise, my child will not lack,I have a duty to fulfil,

    this constant hand

    will hold, caress, guide, and lead,

    these eager eyes will watch:like those birds on cliff-tops,

    that keep a wary eye, sweep,

    and guard against all danger.

    My child shall not want,

    that I promise.

    Alone, but I shall rear this child,

    I shall tread the pathcountless of my sisters have trodden,

    will in future tread,

    for such is what is written

    not by gods,but by heartless men,

    in white, and sanctioned by those

    in saffron-flowing robes.

    Warily we women tread the paths

    laid out for us,tears and tiredness is not for us,

    we have work to do,

    even when there is no work to do,

    and there is no reward at the end

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    but more work, and still more work.

    We shall labour, bathe,and be ready,

    to please our lord.

    That is also written.

    Nay, I shall forge a body and a will,be steadfast, be firm, overcome all the frailties

    that are supposed to be in my nature as a woman.

    My child shall not lack,this much I promise,

    this much I can do.

    I am certainthese pitfalls, these barriers,

    have a higher purpose,I am the child of an Apsara,

    and these sinews are not of just human,

    my father, this father who claimed me not,

    I need him not.

    Let his chant fill his days and nights,

    fill these woods,fill his heart

    for I shall go my way,

    with my child.

    I promise: my child will grow big and strong,

    people will say,There goes Sakuntalas child.

    I will continue to hear my child call,

    Mother,and I shall be there, always.

    And will fulfil the promise madein that moment of passionate embrace.

    I am with mother earth,and my lord is my child

    for such is what is written,

    I know he will be Lord of the Land.

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    I need no hermitage, no temple, and no palace.

    The lullabies I shall sing will praise Brahma.

    My child will hear of Siva-Parvati as one,the half-male the half-female of Ardhanarishvara.

    I will praise Vishnu, relate the union withLakshmi and Bhu.

    I will teach my child about Sita,

    and Bhumipravesh.

    My child will grow up with sounds

    both profound and holy.

    I shall sing the praises of Indra,

    the Lord of Rain and Thunder,

    I shall be thankful for the rivers

    that water this parched land,glad that the fields grow green,

    that lets Nandini graze and roam free,and her milk will satisfy my childs hunger,

    when my milk not suffice.

    This is my humble prayer,and the prayer of all mothers,

    let the childs hunger be satiated.

    Let my child grow, mature to manhood

    and fulfil his destiny,

    for that child is no accident,that child has a role

    in this land of ours.

    That much I am certain,

    that much

    is no dream, but destiny

    for his name is Bharata.

    Duhsanta: That is quite a speech.

    Sakuntala: Yes, you are my husband, according to Manu.

    That is what you told me in the grove.

    Then you disown me because there is no proof.

    You are too weak-kneed to confront the Brahmins,

    too weak to face the pompous court nobles:

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    they would question the legitimacy of our wedding.

    And you are too cowardly to acknowledge what transpired.Your memory failed, conveniently.

    You did not forget to eat, to drink, or to sleep?

    Oh King Duhsanta, what kind of monarch are you?

    But in the grove I am convinced,

    you assured me that this teenage girl

    was capable of making up her own mind,

    make a momentous decision without any help.any advice, any consultation.

    without asking anybody,

    not even Lady Gautami,

    nor wait for Lord Kanva;those two gentle and kind folks who brought me up,

    who looked after me all these years.

    Suddenly they become superfluous, irrelevant,

    so this king can bed me.

    What kind of monarch is one who sweet-talks a nave girl?

    Oh, Kalidasa describes the palpitations of my eyelids,

    my racing heart, my shaking limbs,the passionate embrace.

    Where, in what hidden corner of the grove,

    where, in what nook or crannydid the seduction take place?

    Where did I go afterwards?

    Where did I hide?

    I recollect nothing.

    And the days roll on.

    Kalidasa paints such a beautiful picture of my farewell

    from the hermitage,and the sad but beautiful spectacle

    of my reception in the palace.

    Ah, the dreams of a young girl.

    Heavens decreed that I should be yours

    Kama sent you to me in this grove.

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    I cherished you even before I saw you.

    We were fated to meet.

    Heard your voice in my heart..As soon as I saw you my soul was on fire..

    In company I was so alone,

    for so long all alone in the hermitage.The disciples, the students, they looked at me,

    but they were absorbed in their prayers,

    absorbed in their learning,there was no male company,

    just my friends, the two giggling girls.

    no sound of a deep voice,

    a warm and caressing look.

    The first time your hand brushed against mine

    just the lightest touch of your hand against mine

    and reason seemed to leave me,my heart throbbed,

    I thought it would burst.

    Nights I lay awake with hope,

    longed to listen to the sound of the breathing:

    My lover, I whispered, not knowing what it meant.Restlessness my companion there in my bed-chamber,

    I felt the emptiness gnawing away.

    I am married to him,

    I sighed to myself.

    I did not think of many of my sisters

    who are abandoned, after honeyed lies,

    and left alone in this cruel world.Sisters who end up in little cages

    in the side-streets of our towns.

    I have heard of their tales,their degradation.

    But I had nothing to fear,my Lord awaited me,

    I shall be his queen.

    That is what I was promised.

    Marriage? I did not have a proper marriage.

    Is that not what young maidens dream about?

    Is that not what young girls talk about, giggle about,

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    perhaps even go through mock ceremonies with dolls,

    all dressed up, away from the prying eyes of adults?

    But you would not know about the world of silly teen-aged girls.

    No, as young men you would be going on hunting expeditions,

    not playing with dolls.

    Yes, I agreed to be the Kings bride.

    No. No. There was no bride.I was not garlanded, not bedecked. No henna on my palms, my feet.

    No ceremony. No walking round the holy fire,

    following your footsteps.

    I did not know that he was a king.

    But somewhere along the line he must have told me.

    Did I believe him?Or did I play his game by asking that my son should succeed to the

    throne? Kalidasa says that I made that the condition of my acquiescence tothat secret encounter in the grove.

    Me, a nave girl in that grove, burning with passion a passion

    of which I was completely ignorant of being carried away by theheady palpitations of my heart by the uncontrollable shaking of

    my limbs,. letting this sweet-talking complete .

    stranger do what he likes to my body.

    (Sakuntala rushes up to Duhsanta and pummels him).

    Why? Why? (Sobbing).

    Tell me why this should happen to me?

    Duhsanta: I do not know. I do not know.

    Sakuntala: (To Visvamitra). Perhaps you know. With all your chanting, with all yourholiness. You are one of the seven great rishis- the saptarishis, with your

    own star in heaven.

    Can you tell me, tell me why misfortune is my companion?

    No, that is not true: misfortune is the constant companion of all women.

    We are cursed.

    The Stridharma is quite clear, women should never be independent,

    save when this King wanted his way with me in the grove.

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    And the Manusmrti has laid down our duties; what we can do and what we

    cannot. We are akin to the Sudras, for like them we cannot be twice-born,

    we are prohibited from reading the Vedas, nor may we receive the sacredthread, the yajnopavita.

    We are to remain in darkness, ignorant, and always be subject to yourwishes, to your whims.

    O, where are the Goddesses: Sarasvati, Lakshmi, Parvati, Bhoo Devi,Uma, Durga, Kali?

    Their statues, their effigies; they are silent, helpless.

    And we are so alone.

    Why does everybody forsake us?

    Visvamitra: The Supreme One works in a mysterious manner, my child.All is known, to Him alone.

    (Sakuntala stands staring at Visvamitra).

    Sakuntala: Yes, to Him, alone? And what about Shakti, the divine creative power?

    And Mahadevi?

    Duhsanta: The blackbuck lured me into the grove. You were there. We were to meet.

    The poet, Kalidasa, only narrates what was to happen, what happened.

    Sakuntala: (Facing Duhsanta). Why? Why?

    You two kings: one a father, the other a husband, so helpless.

    Visvamitra: I cant stand this harangue anymore.I am going away from here.

    Sakuntala: Where will you hide?

    I will always be at the back of your mind. That guilty feeling will begnawing away at your entrails. All your deeds, good and bad, will trouble

    you, keep you away from sleep.

    I did not send my mother, Menaka, to temp you.

    What is my fault that you punish me?

    What did Sita do in the end? She asked the earth to open, and she was

    swallowed up. Joining the mother earth.

    For all your chants, for all your pretence you are nothing.

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    A hollow coconut shell. Nothing at all.

    King Duhsanta is correct. Look at your clothes, your whole appearance.

    Dirty.When was the last time you had a comb through that hair.

    Visvamitra: Shut up, child.

    (And he slaps her face).

    Is that how you have been taught to talk?

    (Sakuntala is shocked into a silence, and then realises the significance of that

    slap).

    Sakuntala: My father.. has slapped me. My father has slapped me.

    (She rushes up to Duhsanta).

    You have seen that. He is acknowledging me as his daughter?

    Here, he hit me here, with that hand of his.

    My father hit me.

    Duhsanta: Yes. Yes. He hit you. How dare he hit a defenceless lady?

    (He rushes up to Visvamitra and grapples with him)

    Visvamitra: It is a fathers right to chastise his child.

    Duhsanta: She is no longer your child. She is my queen.

    Sakuntala screams..and runs away, screaming

    Sakuntala: I am the daughter. I am the Queen.

    O Kalidasa, what have you written?

    The two kings stand and look at the disappearing figure.

    Curtains.

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