CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE UNBELIEVABLE KIND--DRAWN IN

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE UNBELIEVABLE KIND

A.V. DHANUSHKODI

Hamlet: “There are more things in heaven and earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”.  HAMLET, ACT  I , SCENE V

EPISODE TEN--- DRAWN IN

The tenth episode of this series was a bizarre experience, to use a mild expression.   It was all so sudden and unexpected that I had no time to think or act, to escape the situation.  It was a black hole, which sucked me in completely.

I was giving final touches to a large canvas I was painting, a scene from the epic Ramayana.  When I stepped back to view the picture critically from a distance, I was quite pleased with the outcome.  It was the only picture, in which all the characters were drawn and painted after models, who posed specially for them. 

Rama is seated on a stone, leaning relaxed against a tree trunk, and Seetha is seated at his feet, with her right arm on his lap, looking lost in total admiration for his divine grace.  Lakshmana stands in the background, at a discreet distance, alert as ever against any evil force, which may approach them any time.

It was a physically static picture, with no action in the characters or the background, but I liked it that way, because the action was in the vibrations between the characters: Seetha’s devotion to Rama, Rama’s unwavering love for Seetha, and Lakshmana’s boundless love and devotion for them both, expressed in his untiring vigil.  I was happy I had done a good job. 

Finally, as there was nothing more to be done, I took a thin brush with rounded bristles  to sign and date the painting, but the palette was not there and the paints were not there.  In the place of the long bench I used for keeping them, there was a stone and some shrubs around.  Then I noticed that the brush I was holding was but a thin twig.  Confused, I looked up at the painting, but there was no canvas with my painting before me.  I was standing in the foreground of the scene I had painted, not in my studio.

Rama and Seetha were sitting about thirty feet from where I was standing and Rama was talking to her.   I could faintly hear his voice, as he was talking to her in a low and gentle tone.  Often I could hear Seetha laughing and chuckling, from which I surmised that he was telling her a funny story.  I was tempted to move closer to listen to his story, but I did not want to attract Lakshmana’s attention and wrath.  Also, it would be pointless to do so, as I could not understand the language Rama spoke, picking up the few words that floated towards me in the gentle breeze.  I turned around to see if there was a way I could slip out of the scene, although I was strongly tempted to stay on and bask in the beauty of Rama and Seetha and the soothing scene I had created from my imagination on the canvas.  To my utter amazement, an awesome river   was running to the brim behind me: must be the Sarayu river.    There was no way I could have crossed that river alive. 

After a moment’s thought, I decided that attempting to get away would be unwise anyway, as that would attract Lakshmana’s attention, which was the last thing I wanted to do.  Finally, I decided to crouch behind the rock, which used to be my bench, and watch.  Very, very slowly I sank down behind the rock and watched. 

I did not have to wait long, before something happened.  I could hear the faint silvery rhythmic tinkle of anklets in the distance.  At the same moment, I saw Lakshmana stand erect; his hand gripped the bow, which he had left leaning on the tree trunk next to him, and his look darted in the direction from which the sound came.

Then, from behind a tall bush, emerged a celestial beauty I had ever seen in my life.   She was tall, slender, and fair, so fair that she seemed to glow from within.  Her face and figure were, at once, divine and seductive.  She was decked, from top to toe, with the rarest of ornaments, set with the most precious stones I have ever known.  As I crouched there, transfixed by her seductive charm, I suddenly realized that it was Surpanaka, Ravana’s sister. 

As she approached Rama, step by step, with a smile more mysterious than Mona Lisa’s, I thought she was floating, wafted in the air like a fairy, so light and undulating were her movements.  She couldn’t have taken more than a few steps, when Lakshmana blocked her like a flash, with his sword in the hand. 

Rama looked up at her and gestured to Lakshmana to let her approach.  Lakshmana stepped back after a moment’s hesitation.  Unperturbed by the interruption, Surpanaka approached Rama and placed her hand gently on his shoulder.                                                                                                   

Rama looked up at her and asked politely, “Sister, what is it you desire?”

Surpanaka smiled and replied, “Rama, I am not your sister.  I am Surpanaka, sister of Ravana, the all-powerful monarch of the three worlds.”

I was surprised I could understand their language.  With that realization, my curiosity to listen to their conversation sharpened.

“The sister of the mighty monarch is  welcome to my humble abode.  Is it not our culture to consider all women our sisters, except the wife?  How do you know who I am?”

“There is nothing we do not know.  This is your wife Seetha, and that rash young man is your brother Lakshmana.”

“I am very much impressed by your knowledge.  I apologize for the rash and rude behaviour of my brother.  He is over-concerned for my safety, as these forests are known to be inhabited by demons.”

“Would you call me a demon?” 

“Not even in my dream.  But you don’t live in these forests?”

“I don’t, but this world and the other two, are my brother’s domains.  As such, I may roam them at will, without being challenged.  This is the first time I was ever challenged but, since he is your brother, I ignore the affront.  So, you may dream of me?”

“I did not mean to say that.  It was only an assumption.  I never dream of any woman except my wife here, Seetha,” he fondly caressed Seetha’s hair. 

“Of whom did you dream, before you were married?” Surpanaka taunted him.

“A good question.  I dreamt of nothing but my duties, as a son to my parents and, as the heir-apparent, the duties I owe  my people.  I had nothing on my mind, all through my waking and resting hours. (Pause)  It is obvious that you are not married.”

“Of course I am not, as you have observed the absence of a thaali around my neck, and the mettis on my toes, and the red-thilak on the parting of my hair.”

“True. But, by the fact you are talking to a stranger, a married man at that, I should have concluded that you were married.”   

“May not unmarried girls talk to strangers, in your part of the land?”

“Of course they may, but only in the presence of a chaperone.”

“Why?  Do you distrust unmarried girls?  How will they then  marry?”

“We do trust the girls, but we do not trust the men,” replied Rama with a smile. 

“But it was Eve who tempted Adam?”

“Amazing!  You are so well informed of the past and the future.   Unfortunately, your understanding of the event is so wrong.” 

                                                 

“I don’t understand you.”

“It was Satan, who, in the guise of a snake, gave Eve the fruit of knowledge to tempt Adam.  Satan was a man.   The snake was only an illusion.  In truth, it is a symbol, like the Linga.  Do not women, married or unmarried, worship the snake and the Linga in your part of this world?”

Surpanaka laughed heartily, to Rama’s great surprise, “I expected the crown prince to have superior knowledge and intelligence. But you have shown me how wrong I was.”

Now it was Rama’s turn to say, “I don’t understand you.”

 

“Of course you don’t.  You don’t understand me, because you don’t understand nature.  First, your premise is wrong: nowhere is it given that Satan was a man.  It too is an allegorical force, commonly called the Anti-Christ, which is immanent in everyone and everything, present anywhere anytime.  Secondly, women worship the serpent, so that it may awaken from slumber to drink the milk we offer.  We also worship the Linga, so that its ego will stand tall and erect.  So was Eve’s apple an offering to Adam, so that he may be enticed to perpetuate the species.  We give birth to men, nurture them with the nourishment which flows from our bodies, so they may propagate the species through us.  Nature has chosen us, women, to entice men’s immature ego with the apple, which is a metaphorical counterpoint to your Linga, so that the species may proliferate this earth.”

There was a long silence when Rama sank deep into thought.  He was looking into Seetha’s eyes, but his thoughts were inward drawn.  It was difficult for me to delve into Seetha’s mind, as she was looking up at him, with so much love and devotion.  Was she refuting Surpanaka’s perception with her suppliant love and devotion, or was she confirming Surpanaka’s contention with her comforting look?   

When Rama spoke, his tone expressed resignation, “Sister, what is it you desire now?”

Surpanaka replied with the most enchanting smile, “I desire to be your wife, not sister.”

Rama looked at her for a long time, shaking his head, “We cannot”, he said finally.

“Why not?  It is neither wrong nor against custom to have many wives.  How many wives did your father have?  Were you and Lakshmana born to the same wife of your father?”

“I am not my father,” anguished Rama.

“But you are his most dutiful son.  Should not the Crown Prince follow in the footsteps of the King?  Do you know why Kings, why even common men, have many wives?  First, because they want their brood to proliferate the world in large numbers and, secondly, they want to beget strong children, and old wives are capable of giving neither the first, nor the second.  But Rama, before all that, remember that all the feminine charms  used by women to entice men to wed them, fade and fail with age, when they want to bed them.”

“You use most cruel words,” chastised Rama.

“Truth is cruel.  Do you know why your father, the King, banished you?  Not because he had to keep his promise made to Kaikeyi, but because she was young and voluptuous. What was a promise made by a man to his wife, against the implicit promise he had to fulfil as a King?  Especially as her demands were against Rajneethi, whichever way you look at the question? Is it not a King’s duty towards his people that he bequeaths his crown to the best of his sons, so that he may rule them justly and give them peace, prosperity and happiness?  Are you not that son? And also the rightful heir to the throne, the first son born to the first wife?”

Rama was distraught with no defence.

“Look at Seetha.  How old is she?  Thirty?  If appearances aren’t deceptive, she is carrying two of your seeds.  How strong will your children be, when you are ready to relinquish your throne?  Of what use will she be to you, when they suck out all her youth?  Look at me.  I am thirteen.  Your Seetha is nowhere near my beauty or intelligence.”  

“You will not be thirteen forever?  Your age and beauty will also wither with time and what will be left of you then?”

“True.  Then I will, on my own, yield my place to another, perhaps younger and more beautiful than me.  As your mother did.”

“You speak as though you were a toy to play with and thrown away when old and tattered.  Are you not vitiating your own views?”

“I am not.  It is part of Nature’s scheme to beget the fittest, so they may survive.  Seen with blinkers, we are toys for men, but viewed  broadly, we beguile men, beget children, and sustain them.  Nature has chosen us to do its work.”

“How will you, then, fulfil your biological needs?”

“We will seek others, and others will seek us.”

“Is it a mere matter of musical chairs?  Who will seek you when you are a wilted flower?”

“That is only one side of the coin.  The other side is the novelty of the experience with a different person, which has nothing to do with age.  Both sides are heads.”

“You get carried away by the power of your dialectics, and miserably fail to see the Truth, which lies beyond  mere verbal calisthenics, because Truth cannot be verbalized; the very attempt polarizes Truth.  A split Truth is Two Lies, the reason Rishis meditate in non-verbal thought.”

“Rama, then what is Truth?”

“The Beginning and the End.”

“The two poles?”

“No.  They are the same point.  The point of Nothingness.”

“And what lies in between?” demanded the anguished Surpanaka.

“Lies!” answered Rama calmly.

With that, all the colours coalesced  into a brilliant flash of white and I went  blind.  When I woke up, after hours, I was lying on the floor in my studio.  I sat up and looked at my painting, but  it was a clean sheet of primal canvas.  It was more beautiful than any picture I had ever painted.

I was still holding my brush.  Slowly I diluted a little of Ivory Black and signed my name at the bottom of the canvas on the left and dated it: A.V.Dhanushkodi, April 23, 2010. 

White, a perfect harmony of all colours, and Black, a perfect absence of all colours, were there.  Those that lie in between, the lies, were not there. 

*******