Madalinga: A Village Tale

By MASTI VENKATESA IYENGAR

(Rendered by the Author from the Kannada original)

Often are names of villages in our country

Beauteous and full of meaning; and it is

A real delight to think of them, They show

How simple and how kindly is the mind

Of this our people; also how the stories

Of great epics a million times repeated

Have sunk into their hearts. You also see

How this same people’s mind and fancy play

Upon the tales so heard and build detail

And grow to gentle laughter. Once this mind

And fancy may a tale of sorrow make

And for a while be sad. If you will hear

I have some tales to tell which you may like.

The second place name of which I would speak

is that by which our people call a valley

Amidst the hills through which you pass on leaving

Chiknaikanhally for Tumkur. It is

A long and mighty range of towering hills.

Our people call the vale of which I speak

The ‘Vale of Madalinga.’ To hear the tale

They tell of it would melt a heart of stone.

Long, long ago, in a village near these hills

There were two sisters, both bright handsome girls.

The elder of the two became the wife

Of Madalinga, her mother’s brother’s son.

If Madalinga was but a proper name,

Or the story-teller talked of Madavaniga

Which is the word for bridegroom and it turned

To Madalinga, I know not. Madalinga

Upon a proper day had travelled up

To these girls village, thinking he should take

His wife to his own village home. It was

The first time that the married girl was leaving

Her mother and her sister. So these two

Accompanied the young man and his bride.

Madalinga was a handsome youth, well built.

It was a pleasure for the eyes to see

His youthful figure; broad and deep the chest;

A large full face; bright eyes; and when he smiled

The charm of lip and teeth and young moustache

Was something past description. He with wife

And mother and sister-in-law walked on a way

That through this valley passed to reach his village.

The young man was no stranger to the women.

So they were free with him and talked and laughed

And walked on joyously. The younger girl

Said to the elder: “Sister, sure I know not

How it is possible for you to leave us.

How you made up your mind I cannot think.”

The elder girl as moved to tears. Being married

She must go with her man. It was the right

And proper thing and yet without a doubt

It was a wrench to leave the younger sister

Who has grown with her from her childhood up

And as It were become a second self.

Her sister’s words disturbed her inner being.

She spoke not and was silent and in thought.

The mother to the younger daughter said:

“When on the morrow your own young man comes

Will you not go with him? You will; you can.”

The young girl at the words ‘your own young man’

Pretended offence and knit up her brow

And violently shook her head and said:

“I want no young man.” Young Madalinga looked

At his bright sister-in-law and laughed and said:

“We all know what this means. For, every girl

Says just these words. She wants no young man. No.

And yet let but a fellow come and call,

She runs with him. This is the way of girls.”

His sister-in-law smiled in reply and said–

It was a joy to see her bright young face,

The smile upon her lips, her shining eyes–

“Our sister’s husband has been married now

For three days and no more; and yet he thinks

He must know everything. How sharp he is!

How quick to learn!” It was fine mockery.

The hour was just past mid-day; the bright light

Lay full on all things; and to these it was

A day of joy; and boy and girls had chewed

The betel leaf. The young man’s heart was tuned

To love and frolic, and this sister-in-law

Was talking as to challenge him in play.

If maid should mock and challenge youth in play

Will youth not answer? Young Madalinga did.

He laughed and said to his bright sister-in-law:

“How should you know if I know everything

Or do not know. If you are unwilling

To leave your sister, come with her and see

How much I know or not.” The girl felt shy

To hear such words and bent her head a little

And at her mother glanced.

For some time then

They walked in silence. But when they had walked

A mile or less the elder sister spoke

And said to her mother: “Mother, do agree

To send my sister with me. He’ll agree

To take her too. I cannot leave my sister

And go away and live. He has married me.

Can he not marry her beside and have

The two of us? It would not be a burden.”

She begged the mother hard. As thus she begged,

In young Madalinga’s heart desire arose

In very truth. The sister was a beauty.

Her lips ripe red, her nose with nose ring decked,

The small ears with the pendants and that brow

Handsome with saffron spot, her head of hair

A very crown of glory and on it

The jasmine setting off the screw of gold

That held the hair. He saw it all and lost

His heart to it and turning to her mother

Looked for her answer to her daughter’s prayer.

So did the younger sister, silently

And more than once. Madalinga and this girl

Desired each one the other deep at heart.

How could they do this so incontinently,

Does any person ask? How do I know?

Have you at no time watched in their grand flight,

Their wings outspread, those lords of air, the kites?

With outspread wings they float, female and male,

In grave and solemn flight high up the sky

And as they fly rise higher and still higher.

Think you they speak to each other or make

Movement to show desire? I think not so.

Intent on reaching heights they gyrate up

And as they reach the higher fields of air

They cry a long cry in their high shrill note

Proclaiming victory in their ascent.

Whoever watches them can see so much.

But who has seen, however close he watched,

In this great tourney of ascending flight,

Desire like lightning, thin, invisible,

From cloud to cloud, flow out, from heart to heart?

Yet as they fly, all in a moment, both

Stop in their flight and with a single mind

Both kites drop down to some tall tree and there

Their love celebrate. This is Nature’s law.

And that is why I say, how should I know

At what particular moment Madalinga

And his wife’s sister fell to love each other

Or how so soon? This only I know well.

They pledged their loves to each other and waited,

All eagerness, to hear the mother’s answer.

When they had walked some steps the mother spoke

In answer to her elder daughter: “Child,

What talk is this? What man is there who can

Two wives both young like you? It could not be.”

The young man, in his eagerness to take

The younger sister with his wife, spoke up:

“Am I an old man, aunt? The girls are young

But know what honest living is; and I,

If you should give the other too to me,

Can surely hold and cherish her; and they,

The two alike, will be true wives to me.

It is no rare thing for one man to have

Two wives.’ As, in his eagerness of heart,

Young Madalinga thus spoke up to convince

His aunt and mother-in-law, they had all reached

This valley of the which it is I tell.

Deep down it lies and low, and just beside

Stands a stupendous hill. The path goes round

Its bottom and reaches the farther side.

Quite half a league of road it is, thus walked;

While, if you climb the hill up on one side

And on the other side descend, it would

Be just about a fourth or so as far.

The stoutest-hearted men that are would choose

To round the hill rather than this ascent:

So steep it is. The mother of the girls

Said to the son-in-law: “Without a doubt

They are well brought up. Yet it were not wise

To ask that both of them should be content

With but one husband. It is desirable,

To live a good life, that each maiden have

A home all to herself. If you would take

The younger cousin too to wife, would you

Prove us your strength by going up this hill

With back to it and down the other side

Within the time we take to walk around?”

The woman spoke thus, for the greater part,

In banter. Would she had not spoken so!

The youth was stout of heart and limb, his strength

Full and unfailing, and his heart desired

To own the younger sister if it could;

And on the top of it the mother threw

This challenge to his competence. Is there

A youth who will not answer such a challenge

Made by a woman? Young Madalinga said;

“Agreed. Backwards I will ascend this hill

And reach the road upon the other side;

And when I reach there give the girl to me.

When tired and weary on the path I stand

Awaiting you, and you three come to me,

Let her pour water on my hands and serve me,

Ministering comfort as a loving wife.

Here, take this vessel.” So he spoke and cast

One single look upon the younger girl

And forthwith started to ascend the hill,

His back to it. The day was gruelling hot;

The hill an endless height. He ’gan to climb.

When he had climbed-some steps the mother-in-law

Looked back at him and doubted if he could

Finish the climb in such a torrid sun

And reach the other side alive, and cried:

“My son, come back. It is not meet to try

So mad a feat. Come back. It is not wise.”

The young man shouted in reply: “Not I.

Walk fast to meet me as I reach the path

Upon the other side and give me drink.”

And up and up he went. His aunt and wife

And sister-in-law, all three, were grieved at heart

That banter should have led to this wild folly.

So that the young man might not wait for them,

Fatigued and thirsty on the path, they walked Apace.

It was a fearful afternoon

And they felt thirsty; and for all of them

There was one single little pot of water,

And not a drop of water anywhere

Within reach. As the mother panted hard

The elder daughter said to her: “Oh mother,

You drink a little from the pot.” “No, mother,”

The younger said: “If we so thirsty are

How much more thirsty will our brother be?

Keep it for him and after he has drunk

You take the rest.” The mother said: “My child,

You do speak sooth. If you and are tired,

In going round the hill, and are so thirsty

The young man going up the steep ascent

How far more thirsty would he not be! Come,

Let us and meet him on the path and you

Pour on his hand some water. Let him drink,

And I shall drink thereafter.” Thus they walked.

This story has already grown too long

And it is needless to describe to you

How poor Madalinga climbed that bold ascent

In that intolerable heat of noon.

What need to tell that ere on the other side

He stood upon the path, he was fatigued,

Despite his strength, to death. Thirsty were not

The word for what he felt. His throat was parched

Dust dry; and what of life was left to him

Was like a light a-flicker to go out.

Yet as he reached the path and these three came,

His eyes did rest upon the younger girl.

He could not speak a word but smiled a little

With joy of having won, and held his hand

For water from the sister-in-law’s hands.

The girl herself was proud that her great lover

Had triumphed in the contest. Tears of joy

Rose all unbidden to her eyes, like pearls

With which her being would that lover garland.

She stepped to him, eager to give him drink,

And in the hurry of her eagerness

Dropped the small pot of water on the ground.

Within the second, all the water spilt,

Not a drop was left. His life athrob,

Poor young Madalinga at this mishap cast

A look of despair on his beloved

And turned his head aside and lay quite still.

The mother cried “Alas,” and sat beside

The youth and with the corner of her cloth

Fanned him to give him comfort. The elder girl

Cried out: “You’ve killed my husband,” and abused

Her mother and her sister. “Envious

And wicked girl, you could not bear the thought

That I should have so good a husband. So

You spilt the water on the ground to kill him.”

The younger girl seemed not to hear the words,

Nor answered. She picked up the pot again

And ran to where within the shortest distance

Some water might be found to save her lover.

Before she could return poor Madalinga

Among the boulders there had breathed his last.

Why shall I describe what thereafter followed?

The very stones that witnessed all the grief

Of that sad day yet seem as if in gloom

From memory of that sorrow. There be those

Who say that even now Madalinga’s spirit

In desolation wanders through the vale

From thirst unsatisfied. Some others still,

While walking here, dread lest they see the spirit;

And some of them occasionally think

That they have seen it and are terror-stricken.

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