Chapter 23
Days wore on. Yajnyawalkya's home and hermitage survived. Janaka's men replenished them with the necessities of life. The wheel moved.
Katyayani's worst premonitions had to be countered by Maitreyi's resilient acceptance of her new responsibility. Without that resilience the two women would have succumbed to the fear that had taken possession of their hearts at the time of Yajnyawalkya's departure: the fear which told them that they were going to lose their man to the world which claimed him. That world demanded to extract his essence: his knowledge, his skill, everything except the soil in which he grew.
The loss of physical contact has its own compensations and rewards sometimes.The absence of a person leaves a vacuum that gets animated. The absence begins to speak more eloquently than the living presence. It is as though the absent person has left behind a burden he could not carry, the burden of unnamed, unrecognized, indecipherable thoughts! The pain, whose origin had ever been an enigma, vibrates in the place that had been filled with his presence. That pain seeps under your skin and you begin to hear a music created by the absent man. That music lifts you gently and the secret places of your heart are opened to the mysteries no intellect had ever penetrated. Such was the legacy Yajnyawalkya had left behind for Maitreyi.
Perhaps she did not know that on many a night he had kept awake, thinking and tormenting himself, while she slumbered by his side peacefully. He used to look at her face which bore no trace of anguish or anxiety. 'How truly this woman belongs to earth,' he would think. She was like earth anointed by the first showers of the season, fragrant and happy. She slept as if her guardian angel had just sung her a song of elemental simplicity; as if she had heard them say, 'Of the elements thou art and to the elements wilt thou return.' She seemed to sleep in the lap of earth, trustful like a child, while he struggled to break away like a tree seized by a desire to fly. Maitreyi did not hear his sighs, tempestuous like trees swaying in the dark. She was not aware of the reproachful glance directed at his hermitage and at her. She was not aware of the remorse either; implicit in the words he spoke in silence:
'O woman, the daughter of earth, will you ever be able to grow wings and fly with me? Why does it surprise me to see myself flying away from you? Perhaps my roots never penetrated the soil in which you grew.'
Maitreyi never heard those words because they had not been uttered. Yet they had left behind the silence that follows the notes of music. The silence now formed for Maitreyi a link between Yajnyawalkya whom she remembered and Yajnyawalkya as he experienced himself. She saw with a greater clarity a vision that she could not translate into words. She knew that Yajnyawalkya's journey had begun and he was too far gone on his way to return to his former abode.
…...............
39
And then one day Katyayani woke her up suddenly as the night receded to make way for the morning sun. Katyayani was shivering like a leaf. She sought support as she spoke:
“Maitreyi, I saw a woman, exceedingly beautiful, but radiating a strange light. She seemed to eclipse everything that was in sight. Soon I lost sight of you, of Yajnyawalkya, of myself too! I could not breathe for want of air. She seemed to be made of the element of fire. She was indeed the very breath of fire. A din of words seemed to emanate from her. After a frantic search I found you. You were unaffected by the din and the fire. You remained where you had been, beyond the farthest limit of silence.”
Katyayani regained steadiness as the vision melted before her eyes. Maitreyi touched her gently on the brow and was startled to find that a raging fever racked Katyayani's body.
From that day Katyayani was seized by the fear of the basic emptiness of everything she held as real. She had stepped out of a dark ante-chamber to face the open space all of a sudden. The effect had dawned upon her before she could locate the cause. She was carried blindfolded to face the truth. When she looked back, she could not recollect the path that had brought her hither, nor could she remember the journey.
Days wore on. Yajnyawalkya's home and hermitage survived. Janaka's men replenished them with the necessities of life. The wheel moved.
Katyayani's worst premonitions had to be countered by Maitreyi's resilient acceptance of her new responsibility. Without that resilience the two women would have succumbed to the fear that had taken possession of their hearts at the time of Yajnyawalkya's departure: the fear which told them that they were going to lose their man to the world which claimed him. That world demanded to extract his essence: his knowledge, his skill, everything except the soil in which he grew.
The loss of physical contact has its own compensations and rewards sometimes.The absence of a person leaves a vacuum that gets animated. The absence begins to speak more eloquently than the living presence. It is as though the absent person has left behind a burden he could not carry, the burden of unnamed, unrecognized, indecipherable thoughts! The pain, whose origin had ever been an enigma, vibrates in the place that had been filled with his presence. That pain seeps under your skin and you begin to hear a music created by the absent man. That music lifts you gently and the secret places of your heart are opened to the mysteries no intellect had ever penetrated. Such was the legacy Yajnyawalkya had left behind for Maitreyi.
Perhaps she did not know that on many a night he had kept awake, thinking and tormenting himself, while she slumbered by his side peacefully. He used to look at her face which bore no trace of anguish or anxiety. 'How truly this woman belongs to earth,' he would think. She was like earth anointed by the first showers of the season, fragrant and happy. She slept as if her guardian angel had just sung her a song of elemental simplicity; as if she had heard them say, 'Of the elements thou art and to the elements wilt thou return.' She seemed to sleep in the lap of earth, trustful like a child, while he struggled to break away like a tree seized by a desire to fly. Maitreyi did not hear his sighs, tempestuous like trees swaying in the dark. She was not aware of the reproachful glance directed at his hermitage and at her. She was not aware of the remorse either; implicit in the words he spoke in silence:
'O woman, the daughter of earth, will you ever be able to grow wings and fly with me? Why does it surprise me to see myself flying away from you? Perhaps my roots never penetrated the soil in which you grew.'
Maitreyi never heard those words because they had not been uttered. Yet they had left behind the silence that follows the notes of music. The silence now formed for Maitreyi a link between Yajnyawalkya whom she remembered and Yajnyawalkya as he experienced himself. She saw with a greater clarity a vision that she could not translate into words. She knew that Yajnyawalkya's journey had begun and he was too far gone on his way to return to his former abode.
…...............
39
And then one day Katyayani woke her up suddenly as the night receded to make way for the morning sun. Katyayani was shivering like a leaf. She sought support as she spoke:
“Maitreyi, I saw a woman, exceedingly beautiful, but radiating a strange light. She seemed to eclipse everything that was in sight. Soon I lost sight of you, of Yajnyawalkya, of myself too! I could not breathe for want of air. She seemed to be made of the element of fire. She was indeed the very breath of fire. A din of words seemed to emanate from her. After a frantic search I found you. You were unaffected by the din and the fire. You remained where you had been, beyond the farthest limit of silence.”
Katyayani regained steadiness as the vision melted before her eyes. Maitreyi touched her gently on the brow and was startled to find that a raging fever racked Katyayani's body.
From that day Katyayani was seized by the fear of the basic emptiness of everything she held as real. She had stepped out of a dark ante-chamber to face the open space all of a sudden. The effect had dawned upon her before she could locate the cause. She was carried blindfolded to face the truth. When she looked back, she could not recollect the path that had brought her hither, nor could she remember the journey.
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