Shakuntala- Soubhagya Kumar Mishra

A Vintage Portrayal 
of Shakuntala

The Poem

He didn't recognise me, he couldn't;
he asked my name and address helplessly.

My pride had been hardening.
When I insisted I wouldn't go back,
perhaps he thought me mad and laughed
aloud to the assembly of ministers.
Then perhaps good sense dawned on him;
he ordered them to see me off after lunch.

The thought of distances I had I forgot.
He looked at my hand like a doe.
The assembly hall looked like Father's hermitage.
Climbing down the steps I felt 
those two doe-eyes were following me
like my friends, Anasuya and Priyambada.
I was an arrow in his quiver.
The bow having been drawn he couldn't
decide on the target --- the deer or the peacock.

So I stayed back there for long days.
The zenana was filled with the jingle of my anklets.
He would return from a hunt and wash 
his face in the stream. I flowed.
like a stream in the dark of his oblivion.
I sang to his pleasure, and never dragged him
to see how a drop of my tear
dazzled secretly, lodged in the lap of sunlight.

It was early in the morning one day.
The bedroom was filled with the smell of burnt wick.
I stole away from the embrace of his deep sleep
and reached the banks of the familiar river.
I asked the fisherman to untie the boat
and unfold the net, and I asked the fish 
to get ready, it was time to be caught.
And I said to the star in hiding
in the deep waters of my womb :
Come, let's play, call the lion and come.
Father's chant of glory came from a distance
like the echo of my hurt pride.

Right from the beginning I knew
he would come back and thus :
his face turned red in the hot sun,
sweat flowing down his brow and ears.
He would stop awed 
at a truth known to us only partially;
he would remove his crown 
and surrender himself with his bow and quiver.
And I would say I needed
only the ring and nothing else.

Summary-
Shakuntala by Soubhagya Kumar Misra is a modernized version of the Kalidasa epic, striking a remarkable comparison between the woman and her mindset then and now. The woman today is not merely the weaker sex that surrenders submissively to the norms of a patriarchal society. Misra’s Shakuntala is the story of a woman whose pride is hurt, who has been humiliated and laughed at in a court of strangers, and forgotten by her own husband. But she won’t just wait unconditionally and eternally for her Lord to realise his mistake and accept her after having made such a mockery of her and fulfilled all his indulgences. She would regain her pride, her lost honour and make the king repent what he wronged.

The poem starts off as a first person narrative in the voice of Shakuntala herself. She says that the king didn’t recognize her; he couldn’t, owing to the curse by sage Durvasas which made him forget the love of her life, Shakutala. He keeps asking for her name and address helplessly. Shakuntala’s pride was repeatedly being hurt. The unsympathetic King Duhshanta made fun of her infront of all his court members, but then perhaps good sense dawned on him and convinced by one of his courtiers, he agreed to keep her in the palace till the birth of her child to see whether or not he had the royal blood and ordered to see her off after lunch. 
But as he looked on her hand, she forgot the distances that had now come between them. His eyes followed her like a doe as she walked out of the court followed by her two friends Anasuya and Priyambada, and she felt that the court had transformed into her father’s hermitage where Shakuntala and Duhshanta had fallen for each-other. Perhaps, he hadn’t forgotten her totally. 

Shakuntala stayed at the palace for a long time, filling the zenana with the jingle of her ankle bells. Every day the king returned from game hunting, and washed his face in the stream near her palace. She too flowed, like a shallow stream faintly in the dark of his oblivion, his subconsciousness. The description is a striking analogy to the fact that the royal ring which would bring back the memory of King Duhshanta had gotten lost in the very same river while Shakuntala was crossing it when coming to the palace from her hermitage for the first time. Kalidasa’s Shakuntala depicts that Duhshanta was intrigued by the songs of Shakuntala and she sang to his pleasure. Misra makes a striking statement by saying that though Shakuntala sang to his pleasure even at his palace, she wasn’t a weak soul. She never asked the king to come to her and wipe her tears, or console her.

Soubhagya Kumar Misra has played skillfully with the climax of the Kalidasa epic by describing the chain of incidents that took place not as a mere coincidence but as if Shakuntala herself conjured up everything in the process of gaining her lost pride. She wakes up one morning while Duhshanta is still asleep and sneaks out of the palace into the nearby forest. She asks the fisherman to untie his boat and set free the net to catch the fish which had gulped down the Royal ring, and asks the fish to get ready to be caught. This is an analogy to the fact that a fisherman had found the lost ring in the stomach of a fish that he had caught and when he presented the ring back to Duhshanta, his memory came back. She also asks the star hiding in her womb, that is her Bharata who had grown up in his mother’s shadow to come and play, and asks him to call the lion, an analogy to the fact that when King Duhshanta comes to the forest searching for her love after having regained his memory, the first sight he sees is of his son holding the mouth of a lion open with his arms and counting his teeth.  She says she could hear her father’s chant for glory in the distance.

She finishes off by saying that she knew he would come back, his face turned red in the heat of the Sun, sweating. He would stop awed after realizing the truth he knew only partially, and surrender himself to her with his bow and quiver. But she wouldn’t stoop so much as to accept the person who hurt her pride so much, who made such a mockery of her infront of strangers. She would just ask him to give back the sign of their love, the ring, and nothing else.