Somaka
I will stay.
Shades
And crown the despair and inglorious suffering of hell with the triumph of a soul!
26
The man had no useful work, only vagaries of various kinds.
Therefore it surprised him to find himself in Paradise after a life spent perfecting trifles.
Now the guide had taken him by mistake to the wrong Paradise—one meant only for good, busy souls.
In this Paradise, our man saunters along the road only to obstruct the rush of business.
He stands aside from the path and is warned that he tramples on sown seed. Pushed, he starts up: hustled, he moves on.
A very busy girl comes to fetch water from the well. Her feet run on the pavement like rapid fingers over harp-strings. Hastily she ties a negligent knot with her hair, and loose locks on her forehead pry into the dark of her eyes.
The man says to her, “Would you lend me your pitcher?”
“My pitcher?” she asks, “to draw water?”
“No, to paint patterns on.”
“I have no time to waste,” the girl retorts in contempt.
Now a busy soul has no chance against one who is supremely idle.
Every day she meets him at the well, and every day he repeats the same request, till at last she yields.
Our man paints the pitcher with curious colours in a mysterious maze of lines.
The girl takes it up, turns it round and asks, “What does it mean?”
“It has no meaning,” he answers.
The girl carries the pitcher home. She holds it up in different lights and tries to con its mystery.
At night she leaves her bed, lights a lamp, and gazes at it from all points of view.
This is the first time she has met with something without meaning.
On the next day the man is again near the well.
The girl asks, “What do you want?”
“To do more work for you.”
“What work?” she enquires.
“Allow me to weave coloured strands into a ribbon to bind your hair.”
“Is there any need?” she asks.
“None whatever,” he allows.
The ribbon is made, and thence-forward she spends a great deal of time over her hair.
The even stretch of well-employed time in that Paradise begins to show irregular rents.
The elders are troubled; they meet in council.
The guide confesses his blunder, saying that he has brought the wrong man to the wrong place.
The wrong man is called. His turban, flaming with colour, shows plainly how great that blunder has been.
The chief of the elders says, “You must go back to the earth.”
The man heaves a sigh of relief: “I am ready.”
The girl with the ribbon round her hair chimes in: “I also!”
For the first time the chief of the elders is faced with a situation which has no sense in it.
27
It is said that in the forest, near the meeting of river and lake, certain fairies live in disguise who are only recognised as fairies after they have flown away.
A Prince went to this forest, and when he came where river met lake he saw a village girl sitting on the bank ruffling the water to make the lilies dance.
He asked her in a whisper, “Tell me, what fairy art thou?”
The girl laughed at the question and the hillsides echoed her mirth.
The Prince thought she was the laughing fairy of the waterfall.
News reached the King that the Prince had married a fairy: he sent horses and men and brought them to his house.
The Queen saw the bride and turned her face away in disgust, the Prince’s sister flushed red with annoyance, and the maids asked if that was how fairies dressed.
The Prince whispered, “Hush! my fairy has come to our house in disguise.”
On the day of the yearly festival the Queen said to her son, “Ask your bride not to shame us before our kinsfolk who are coming to see the fairy.”
And the Prince said to his bride, “For my love’s sake show thy true self to my people.”
Long she sat silent, then nodded her promise while tears ran down her cheeks.
The full moon shone, the Prince, dressed in a wedding robe, entered his bride’s room.
No one was there, nothing but a streak of moonlight from the window aslant the bed.
The kinsfolk crowded in with the King and the Queen, the Prince’s sister stood by the door.
All asked, “Where is the fairy bride?”
The Prince answered, “She has vanished for ever to make herself known to you.”