KALIDASA1:
HIS CONCEPT OF BEAUTY
IN
NATURE
JUAN
R. FRANCISCO
Bhaso
Hasah Kalidaso Vilasah. 2
Thus, Bana another poet or
Grace,
in the sense that it presents an idea of refinement and in the manner Kalidasa
plays in the minds of his readers, springs forth from his sympathetic and
minutely accurate knowledge of nature. This, however, is just one of the multitude of facets that made him an Everest in the
Kalidasa’s nature beauty 3
reached such a degree of perfection that it has been admired by poets through
all the
Here
indeed are grains of wild rice beneath the trees that had fallen from the mouth
of the hollow trunks which are filled with parrots; the polished stones for
crushing the oily fruit of the ingudi are
seen also. The fawns too having acquired confidence bear the sound of human
voices; and the paths to the reservoirs are marked with lines by the drippings
from the ends of the bark clothes. And also the trees, their roots being washed
in the water canals, their branches shaking in the breeze, their colour bright with new sprouts, are barely seen due to the
clarified butter; and in these the deer free from fear graze leisurely on the
lawns of the garden where the stalks of the darbha
grass have been mown. (Sak.
I, 11-12)
The
picturesque descriptions of the grove, upon the king’s orders stopping the
chase, are so vivid as not to escape our imagination–“Let the buffalos agitate
by their plunges the water of the tanks repeatedly struck by their horns, let
the musta grass be made undisturbed by
the line of boars in the pool, let this my bow, unstrung, rest in peace.” (Sak. II, 6)
Upon
beholding Sakuntala, King Dushyanta
goes into fits of parallelism–“If this beautiful figure, rarely seen in the
harem of the palaces, belongs to the people of the hermitage, then indeed the
shrubs in the garden are distanced in excellence by the creepers of the forest.”
(Sak. I, 14)
Here, a certain element of symbolic representation of the beauty of nature in Kalidasa’s comparisons is commenced and then carried
through the play till its denouement. Then the king, seeing the unfitness of Sakuntala for the duties assigned her by the kulapati (head of the clan, Kasyapa), says to himself, “The sage, who
expects to make this artlessly-charming form capable of penance, certainly
attempts to cut the branch of a hard sami wood
with the edge of a blue lotus leaf.” (Sak.
I, 15)
To
cite an outstanding simile in Sakuntala makes
one think of the deeply infused nature-beauty in the atman (soul) of
Kalidasa, as when Dushyanta describes his beloved on
first seeing her from behind the bushes–
This
blooming body of hers, by the bark dress fastened delicately with knots upon
her shoulders and covering the orbs of her two breasts, does not exhibit the
exuberance of her charms like a flower enveloped by a calyx of pale leaves. (Sak. I, 16)
and
another, “truly her lip has the colour of a young
bud, her two arms resemble the flexible stalks; attractive youth, like the
blossoms, pervades her limbs.” (Sak.
I, 18)
Through
the first three acts we find a large number of similitudes
presented. But in the fourth act, which describes the departure of Sakuntala from the hermitage, there contained the most
charming beauties of nature, and that one cannot read the act
without being struck by the richness and elevation of Kalidasa’s
genius, the super-abundant glow of his fancy, his ardent love for the
beautiful, his deep sympathy with nature and nature’s loveliest
scenes, his profound knowledge of the human heart, his delicate appreciation of
its most refined feelings, his familiarity with its conflicting sentiments and
emotions. Let us read–
Kasyapa:
Hear, O hear, ye neighbouring
trees of the penance grove! She who never attempts to drink water first when
you have not drunk, and although fond of ornaments she never plucks a blossom
out of affection for you, whose highest joy is at the season of the first
appearance of your blossoms, even that Sakuntala now
departs to the house of her husband. Let her be dismissed by all. (As if
listening to a koil verse) Sakuntala is permitted to depart by the trees her sylvan
relatives, since a song to this effect by the kokila
was employed as an answer to them.
Voice
in the Air: May her way be
pleasant all throughout by lakes, full of lotus beds; the sun’s heat moderated
by the trees exuberant with leaves, its dust be as soft as the pollen of the
lotus, and by pleasant breezes; and may she be prosperous! (Sak. IV, 9, 11)
That
in a nutshell is Kalidasa! But he will not allow us to be satiated with only
the emotions that we feel on reading these lines. For this “heathen poet,
loving God’s creation, his women and his flowers more than we who boast of
consecrated powers...his words of wisdom shine...” with the brilliance of the
morning dew. Again, Bana gives another facet of Kalidasa’s soul in the lines–
Where
find a soul (that) does not thrill?
In
Kalidasa’s verse to meet
The
smooth inevitable lines like blossom cluster,
Honey
sweet?
Perhaps
Kalidasa’s concept of beauty in Nature reaches its
fullest expression in his two equally immortal poems–Rtusamhara
and Meghaduta. Indeed, the beauty
of love in the lyric poems appears to be most significant, but nature in its
pristine beauty is unsurpassed.
The
eyes cannot be deceived by the vividly picturesque in Nature, the ears are
deeply enthralled by the sweet melody and symphony of the cries of the denizens
of the forests calling their mates and offsprings;
the fall of the rain upon the lotus and upon the tranquil lakes, etc.
All
these are woven into the feelings and sentiments of the characters: the river,
the cloud, the rains, the trees, the denizens of the forests; even the insects
have their own beauty and charm in the eyes of Kalidasa.
Rtusamhara,
“The Seasons”, or as R. S. Pandit has rendered the Sanskrit
title, “The Pageant of Seasons”, opens with summer and concludes with spring.
“This,...is a pursuance of the ancient adage: ‘One
should wind up (a meal) with a sweet.” The Indian calendar gives us six seasons
to the year. As a pageant, the seasons parade before us in six sargas or cantos –each season being the
subject: Summer (ushnakala), Rains (varshakala), Autumn (sarada), Early Winter (? purva hemanta), Winter (hemanta), and
Spring (vasanta). Indeed, the commentator of the
poem, whoever he was, had intensely depicted the distinctively Indian custom of
“winding up (a meal) with a sweet.” And to have Spring as the end of the Indian
year presents to us the season of the unfolding of the most beautiful scenery
before the Indian eye, the sweetest of the melodies to the Indian ear, and the
expression of the most sought for goal of human like–Kama
(love, desire). Thus:
The
warrior Spring
Comes
with armorial bearing,
Armed
with the nimble-shafts
Of
the Swelling mango blossom,
And
the murmurous line of bees
Is
the twang of his lustrous bow-string;
He
is shooting his flowery arrows, my dear,
To pierce the hearts of lovers.
The
trees aflower are crowned with glory,
The
waters are strewn with lotus and lily?
The
balmy breeze liberates fragrance,
And
maidens are filled with dreams of love;
The
languid perfection of the day
Wanes
to a quivering twilight,
And
all that breathes, or moves, or blossoms,
Is
sweeter, my love, in Spring.
The
breath of Spring is in the air,
Spilling
its richness everywhere,
It
is stroking the waters of the pools,
Coaxing
the lily buds to emerge unscared,
Chiding
the jewels aglimmer in the moonbeams;
It
caresses the girdles
Encircling
the waists of maidens,
And
it is urging the mango trees
To
flaunt their blossoms
In the eye of day.
(Rtu. VI,
1-3)
The
rest of the verses in the sarga have a
beauty of their own. But we cannot cite them all. However, let us read further:
The
sight of the hills adorned with trees
And
the varied lovely blossoms,
The
sequestered peaks ringing with the echo
Of
the voices of singing birds,
And
the crevices of rocks strewn with alpine flowers,
Comfort
the longing eyes.
(Rtu. VI,
25)
and
With
the veiled barbs of the tender mango blossom,
And
his good bow the charming palasha bloom,
The
mazy line of bees for his bow-string,
The
spotless canopy of silken moonbeams,
The
low south wind from
For
his lordly rutting elephant,
And
the singing cuckoo birds for his chanting minstrels;
May
the bodiless
Bosom
friend of Vasanta,
And
sovereign conqueror of the world,
Bring
to the growing generation
Hours
filled with bliss!
(Rtu. VI,
28)
Can
there be any sight more beautiful and inspiring than this? Only Kalidasa can
rival this his own masterpiece!
But
let us see the beauty of nature in each of the seasons as seen by the keen eyes
of our poet, and painted by him in the most brilliant colours
with his versatile pen.
Summer
comes in the fury of its heat–painful to lovers, but it tempers down the
predatory instinct of the beasts of the forest, i. e.,
The
cobra, with its hood depressed
And
spiral gait in uncurled length,
Pants
ever and anon,
And rests on the ground in the peacock’s shade.
A
quenchless thirst has put an end
To
the brave deeds of the lion, lord of beasts:
Panting
audibly with jaws agape,
With
lolling tongue and quivering mane,
He
ignores the nearby elephant,
Though he loves the furious fray.
And
the tuskers, too, lose the sense of dread
Of
even the lion,
While
from the trunks they throw up sprays
Of
moisture cool to ease their flanks
Seared
by the blistering rays;
And
stricken with the growing thirst
They
move in quest of water.
(Rtu. I,
13-15)
A
delight it is to behold these denizens of the forests in perfect harmony, if
only in Summer!
Even
the destructive fire has its own beauty beholden to the sight:
The
tongues of the flames have the fiery tinge
Of
the opening petals of the palasha bloom
The
conflagration like glistening sindhura is vermilion;
Swiftly
it spreads by the force of the whirlwind,
And
embracing the tender leafage
Of
creeper and brushwood and tree,
Is
filled with a wild ecstacy;
And
many a glade and green recess
Is burnt to cinder and ashes.
(Rtu. I,
24)
And then:
May
you pass your summers
Where
lotus and lily lift their heads in the pools,
And
the flowering patala scent the air,
And
plunge, at will, in lucid waters,
And
enjoy the argent moonbeams
Shooting
lustre into the pearls;
And,
at night, on open balcony,
When
the air vibrates with song
From
a voice that is rich and tender,
May
you nestle midst charming women,
In
sweet inflowing sleep.
(Rtu.
I, 28)
Let
us open our eyes to the magnificent sights, and strain our ears to the melody
of sounds, the coming of the rains–
The
approaching season of Rain, dear love,
Comes
like a king in pride of power,
The
rain-laden clouds are its rutting war elephants;
The
lambent flashes of lightning
Serve
for its streaming pennons,
And
the reverberating thunder
Is
the rattle of its kettle-drums;
It
is hailed by the host of lovers
As
the royal cavalcade is acclaimed
By crowds of suppliants.
(Rtu.
II, 1)
For we are lovers not only of nature, but lovers in the
literal sense. The canto, in the language of the
roaster poet, suggests to us, in the beauty of this season, love by the wild
streams which eagerly embrace the tottering trees on their banks as they rush
madly to the ocean, and by the clouds filled with rain which bend down to kiss
the rocks of the mountain Peaks. The figure is
indeed magnificent!
But
look at the vegetation after the fire has been quenched by the rains (vide Rtu. I, 24, supra):
The
woodland, where the fire is quenched
By
the newly sprinkled showers,
Is
gaily decked with Kadamba tassels
In joyous celebration.
It
is dancing merrily; its waving boughs
Of
trees are tossed by playful winds;
It
seems to be smiling sweetly
Through the sharp white blades of the ketaki
leaves.
(Rtu.
II, 23)
Behold
the lady Autumn comes
Clad
in the silver kasa blossoms,
Her
fair visage is the white lotus bloom,
In
the tuneful cry of wild geese on high;
The
harvest of rice with ripening sheaves,
Bending
in billows in the fresh young breeze,
Is
her graceful figure and supple body;
She
emulates the charming bride
With
white bridal vesture and lily-like face,
The
jingling anklets and slender figure,
And
the shoulders bowed with decorous modesty
And woman’s gentle grace.
(Rtu. III,
I)
To
Kalidasa, the image of Autumn could not be
described in any other terms as expressed in the opening sloka
(verse) of the third sarga, No
image more vivid than this could possibly give us a scene so intense as this.
Throughout the sarga the simile is
dominant –e.g., the creepers of the autumn are the fair arms to maidens whose
white teeth, seen through their red lips, are like the jasmine revealed through
the crimson asoka flowers–leaving in
the imagination the constant communion (of man) with the forest, the rivers,
etc., each possessing that enchanting beauty, yet beyond the capacities of the
master painter to depict upon his canvas. Only Kalidasa with his soul enshrined
in purity could give us that picture –native, pristine yet awe-inspiring and
glorious!
He
concludes the sarga with the
benediction that even goes beyond the intellect’s grasp, for it is not just
rustic blessing but one that gives life–beautiful in its simplicity. Read–
May
Autumn, whose face is the open lotus
And
whose eyes are the full-blown nenuphar’s,
In
robes of purest white arrayed,
With
the new blown kasa blossoms,
Grant,
you, like the ardent sweetheart,
(Rtu.
III, 26)
The early winter is ushered in with the fragrance of the ripening rice, the fading of the lilies, the falling of dew. Read–
The
spreading barley gleams
With
a tender green embroidery,
The
harvest of rice is ripening;
The
lodhra trees are aflower,
And
the lilies are fading away,
And
so the falling dews
Usher
the pleasant season of frost. (Rtu.
IV, I)
Again
the simile is employed with the fulness of its
effect–the fate of the priyangu creeper buffeted by
the breeze is that of the maiden severed from her lover. Thus, the whole
essence of the season is drawn with the pinings of
the maiden separated from her loved one, just as the priyangu
becomes severed from the fragrance of the dew that falls at the buffeting
of the morning breeze.
Thus,
the blessing and assurance in verse 18 leaves in our mind the feeling of joy
ennobled by that enshrined forever in the surroundings of man. Read–
May
this season of frost with manifold charms
And
with the peace of the dreaming landscape,
When
the fields are mellow and fruitful with rice;
Ever
pleasant and encircled by the calling krauncha
Moving
the maids to the depths of their souls,
Add
to your welfare and joy!
(Rtu.
IV, 18)
Winter
brings us into the homes, with their simplicity evoking the aesthetic spirit
that elevated the soul to heights unknown. Look at the women in the homes at
winter morn:
In
the splendour of the morn,
Women
in their homes,
With
their fresh skins like the golden glowing lotus,
The
roseate lower lips, and long eyelids,
Stretched
to the ears, suffused at the rims,
Their
beauteous oval faces,
And
on their shoulders the lovely hair,
Tumbling
in cascades,
Bear
the semblance of Lakshmi.
(Ritu. V,
13)
Would
not these women be the envy of Lakshmi, the goddess of beauty? It would not be
vain to suggest that Lakshmi may even incarnate herself into the mortal world
to rival these women of glorious but simple beauty!
May
this winter time
Rich
in dainties, sweets, and lucent syrups,
Charming
with the fields of rice,
And
cloying with the juice of the sugarcane,
Warm
with love’s awakening
And
happy fulfilment,
But
painful to pining lovers,
Tend
to your bliss forever!
(Ritu. V,
16)
This
strope ushers us into Spring,
with the benediction of bliss forever! Vasanta, “spring,” the “sweet that winds up every meal!”
If
in Rtusamhara Kalidasa has shown us his
forte in the description of the seasons–their
unsurpassed beauty singularly their own, in Meghaduta,
he reveals his masterful portraiture of the superabundant beauty of the
rain season. In this lyric, we see the fulfilment of Kalidasa’s forte as a lyricist, surpassing even his
masterful portrayals in the Rtusamhara. For
Kalidasa’s style in the Meghaduta
is “flowing, vivid, forcible and is full of pathos and passion, the
delineation of which is the special forte of the poet.” He reveals here that
intense knowledge of nature which was not only “accurate but (also)
sympathetic.”
….The
Yaksha in his lovelorn condition fancies that he
discovers a friendly messenger in a cloud–one of those noble masses which seem
almost instinct with life as they traverse a tropical sky at the commencement
of the monsoon, and move with slow and solemn progression from the equatorial
ocean to the snows of the
Listen
to the Yaksha describing the path that the
Cloud-Messenger shall pass to deliver his message to the loved one:
Spying
the kadamba flower half-green with filaments that
struggle to be born, and the plantain trees which have put forth their first
buds on the marshy bank, and smelling the sweet, sweet smell of the earth in
the burnt forests, the deer will trace the track of thee, discharging drops of
water.
Though
thou be desirous of travelling quickly for my darling’s sake, I foresee, my
friend, delay on every hill fragrant with kutaja
flowers, having been received with cries expressive of
welcome by the peacocks whose eyes are full of tears of joy; but then thou wilt
try somehow or other to travel rapidly.
At
thine approach the Dasarna
country will have its garden hedges whitened by Ketaki
flowers bursting open at the points of the buds, its trees in the villages
alive with many a nest abuilding by familiar crows,
the skirts of its Jambu forest dark with ripe fruits
and the swans too lingering awhile on their journey.
(Megh. I, 21-23; Nerurkar Ed.)
Every
verse exudes the essence of charm that in itself is beautiful. The descriptions
of all these sights rise to their own heights of loveliness as the Yaksha describes his beloved city, Alaka:
Where
the trees always bear flowers and are full of swarms of intoxicated bees; the
lotus ponds are ever full of lotuses and have for their girdles rows of flamingoes;
the domestic peacocks with ever glittering plumage lift up their necks for the
purpose of crying; and (where) nights that art lit with a constant flood of
moonlight are pleasant because of the course of darkness having been completely
obstructed.
(Megh. II, 3; Nerurkar Ed.)
Where
the path, pursued by women at night, is betrayed at sunrise by Mandara flowers fallen from their curls owing to their
(hasty) movements in walking (as they stole along afraid), by the pieces of
tender leafy creepers, by the golden lotuses dropped from their ears, by
strings of pearls and by necklaces with their strings snapped on (on account of
the contact with) their ample breasts.
Where
the horses, green like leaves, rival the sun’s coursers, and the elephants,
tall like mountains, send forth showers, like thee, due to the flow of their
rut, and the best of warriors, who encountered Ravana in battle, have the splendour of their ornaments eclipsed by the scars
inflicted by the sword of Chandrahasa.
Where,
knowing that Siva, the friend of Kubera, resides in
person, Cupid through fear does not as a rule take up his beestrung
bow. His task is, however, done by the amorous gestures of clever maids alone,
accompanied by the casting of sidelong glances with puckered brows darting out
ineffectually at their lovers who are their targets.
(Megh. II, 11-13; Nerurkar Ed.)
But
it reaches its acme as he describes his loved one:
The
fair one, who may be there, posessed of a slender
form, of pointed teeth, of a lower lip as red as a ripe bimba
fruit, of a slight waist, of eyes like those of a frightened fawn, of a
deep navel, of an idly graceful movement through the weight of her lips and
slightly bent down on account of her breasts, as if she were the Creator’s
first effort in the way of making a woman (or as if she were the supermost woman gone from the work. shop of God ).
(Megh. II, 22; Nerurkar Ed.)
And
then, he describes further the state in which the Cloud-Messenger would find
the loved one; but the Yaksha cautions the messenger,
thus:
O
Cloud, if at that time she should be enjoying the pleasures of sleep, wait for
three hours; sit behind her and do not thunder; for, let not her close embrace
in which I, her affectionate husband, am met in a dream...
(Megh. II, 37; Nerurkar Ed.)
We
find verses no more beautiful than these, the charm, the lovely scenes in their
inspiring state. Thus, Kalidasa concludes this masterpiece of lyrical
composition with a blessing that in itself reveals his identity with Nature–
Having
done this favour to me, who has preferred an
unbecoming request to thee, through friendship or a feeling of pity for me
because I am in separation, go, O Cloud, to any regions thou likest, with thy loveliness enhanced by the rainy season.
May there be no separation like mine, even for a moment, between thee and the
lightning (thy spouse)!
(Megh. II, 55; Nerurkar Ed.)
Compare,
however, the beauty of the Yaksha’s separation
from his loved one with that found in the story of Kama,
the god of love, where we find Rati bewailing her
husband, Kama, who had been rendered bodyless (ananga) by Siva, to
spring who seeks in vain to console her. She says, “Once departed thy friend
will return no more, like the flame which extinguished in the wind comes not
back. I am like a wick of the flame, sorrow unending
encircles me like a smoke.”
Indeed,
no critique of Kalidasa’s nature beauty could be
written with the finesse that would create in one the desire to his poetry, for
reading through his lyrics is itself an inspiration to
read them again and again. And yet, every reading deepens one’s feeling for the
forests–fostering communion with the creatures of the supreme being–the lakes, the mountains, and all that make
Nature possess such a lovely countenance.
Kalidasa’s greatness has
reached such proportions that some stories have been woven around this “One of
the Nine Gems” of the court of Raja Vikramaditya. J.
E. Seneviratne relates that one fine morning Kalidasa
was traversing an extensive range of fields, beautiful and rich with plentiful
harvest, when his penetrating eyes dawned upon the countenance of a nymph-like
beauty bathing by herself at a well. Overcome by the
personal charms and voluptuousness of the fair one, Kalidasa made certain
improper overtures to her. She contemptuously rejected his overtures, but that
contempt was compatible with the dignity of a virtuous woman sensible of the
importance of her maiden purity. It is, however, told that with a sloka of tender yet penetrating words, he
spoke to her on the spot, flattered her, and eventually brought her under his
absolute control. Let us read the sloka–
O Beauteous One! Maha-Brahma has formed thy eyes with lilies, thy face with lotus, thy teeth with white lilies, thy lips the tender leaves of a na tree; and thy limbs with the petals of the champaka. How is it that thy heart alone is cast in stone?
Another
story is told about his fleeing from the court of Raja Bhoja,
who, in order to lure him (Kalidasa) back to the palace, offered a reward to
the person who could complete the verse, “Where was a flower ever seen to grow
out of a different flower?”, which the king knew to be the best temptation for
the refugee. Truly, Kalidasa completed the verse without difficulty by adding,
“Nowhere, O Nymph, except in your lily-like countenance, where two flowers of
India sportively play,” after his mistress had
brought it to his hideout.5
The
authenticity of the first story has not been determined. But the latter does
have sufficient proofs of its historicity and connection with the Raja. Kalidasa’s use of the very insignificant plants, however,
inspires in man a profound love and affection for his natural environment. What
are the lilies to one whose sentiments and feelings are never tempered by deep
love for nature–by the simple leaves of the na tree, and the fragile petals of the champaka? Much more so the extremely striking
contrast which he presents with the bringing in of the stone as being the
“heart” of the virtuous yet voluptuous maiden!
In
resume, It may be said that Kalidasa’s realistic
delineation of the vegetation in the tapovana
(penance grove) leads one to speculate, albeit conservatively, that he was a
hermit himself, whose soul had communed with the Perfect Being, after he had
withdrawn from the worldly chores of life in the courts of kings. This
speculation seems strange but here is a man speaking through his poetry and
drama, in a language so crystal clear like the spring waters that have just
burst forth from Mother Earth’s bosom.
For
a man to be effectively efficient in portraying the beauties of nature, he must
be a part of his environment. So does Kalidasa truly present himself as the Yaksha in the Meghaduta. One is also inclined to remark, furthermore,
that he himself was speaking in the guise of the Yaksha,
banished by Kubera (as the king from whom he fled)
although not, perhaps, for the same reason in which he laments his fate. No
doubt, he is not able to conceal his native emotions. His elemental love for
natural beauties of
The
Yaksha is surrounded by nature with which he was in
constant communion. The mango and other trees, creepers, lotuses, and pale red
trumpet flowers, fawns, flamingos, bright hued parrots, and Indian cuckoos, in
the midst of which he moved, often addressed by him; all these form essential
parts of his life.
Finally,
Kalidasa was, is, and will always be great because the world has not been able
to leave him alone!
–By courtesy of
The Diliman Review (
Rtu
Rtusamhara (The Seasons)
Nerurkar
Ed. Nerurkar
Edition of the Rtusamhara
Megh. Meghaduta
(Cloud Messenger)
Sak. Sakunlala
1 Kalidasa
has been called the “Shakespeare of India” by Sir Monier
Williams in his introduction to the first edition of his English translation
of Sakuntala. The present writer,
however, wishes to disagree with Sir Monier, and
prefers to call Shakespeare the “Kalidasa of England.” After all, Kalidasa
lived circa 1100 years before Shakespeare.
2
“Bhasa is mirth, (whereas) Kalidasa is grace.”
3 The
present paper is based on the partial translations of Sakuntala
by the present writer, and readings of Meghaduta
and Rtusamhara.
4 A. A. Macdonnell, A History of
the Sanskrit Literature, pp. 336 -339.
5 He
was, however, stabbed to death by the same woman, who was more interested in
the reward than in the love of Kalidasa.