Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust Read Online Free PDF Page B

impossible to settle this paradox and then even a couch of flowers pricked like a bed of thorns. I would stroll out, gaze at the stars and be soothed by the cool fresh breeze. The mango trees in the adjacent grove would rustle in a whisper and the charwak birds in the pond nearby could be heard wailing for each other. The mind was enchanted with such touching music.
    Gradually peace and quiet would descend on me. The birds would have by then been stilled into silence and there was no sound of movement or flutter. The peace of the surrounding would inspire me to utter words of prayer. I would say them softly. In the end with folded hands, refreshed in mind and contented, I would look around at the expanse of heaven and earth in front and fervently say, ‘Peace and goodwill on Earth.’ Then sleep would enfold me in her fine silken garb and sing a lullaby.
    I valued this peace at night, just as much as the pleasure derived from the rough and tumble of the day. I could not, however, reconcile the two. While I was escorting the horse, time was moving apace. In this roving life I experienced in many different forms both peace and intoxication.
    I cannot describe the many varied forms in which peace and exhilaration came to me during these wanderings. There was the luscious green grass which looked like fur standing up, as if in ecstasy, and the tall stout deodar trees proudly poised as if to uphold the sky. There was the gentle drizzle of rain like Ganges water sprinkled by the priest in blessing and there was the downpour, like jets of water thrown up by an elephant. There was the tiny lovely butterfly which, descending on the finger, looked like a ring set in precious stones. The lofty minarets of temples and the inviting houses of dancing girls. The tall twenty foot statues of the warriors and the delicately carved figures of young maidens on the walls of caves.
    I went to see one such figure of a lovely woman. My escorts were all outside. The figure was exquisitely beautiful. It was the figure of Rati, the Goddess of Love in mourning, when Lord Shiva had destroyed Madan, the God of Love. I gazed at it for a long time. Her sari had strayed a little. Her tresses were hanging loose. I forgot that it was a lifeless figure. And before I knew what I was doing I kissed that beautiful figure passionately on the mouth. If it were not for the cold feel of the stone which brought me to my senses, I would have gone on doing it indefinitely.
    The region was alive with many elephants and I decided to indulge in elephant hunting. I had heard that wild elephants go to the pond for a drink at night. Once at midnight, I penetrated deep into the forest all alone and climbed a tall tree by the side of a pond. It was an exciting experience. It was pitch dark and you could not see even a yard away.
    There was great satisfaction in getting an elephant under these conditions. I pricked my ears for stray sounds. I had heard that in drinking the elephant emits a bubbling sound. I was straining to hear it and gradually I lost consciousness of all other sounds. Every moment was like an hour.
    A vague sound came to my ears. I thought it was a bubbling sound and was electrified. You could see nothing and had to aim by sound. When hit, the animal would squeal. I had decided to shoot quickly in succession in the same direction on hearing the squeal.
    I shot an arrow. The sound of its impact on the target and a harsh human voice came to my ears together.
    ‘Who shot the arrow? You sinner, come forward. Otherwise ...’
    Even a squirrel could not have got down as quickly as I did. I walked in the direction of the sound. The forest was thinner by the side of the pond and I saw in the faint moonlight, a human being. He seemed like a ghost. I hastened to fall at his feet without looking up. Suddenly the figure fell back with the words, ‘I must not be touched by a sinner.’
    ‘I am no sinner, Sire, I came for the love of hunting, thought I heard an elephant