Journeys to the Buddha I KISSA GOTAMI

(This is a fictionalized dramatic account of Kissa Gotami’s conversation with the Buddha just before she was given realization of the truth. It is based on some fact, as are the other two pieces in this series of monologues, but differs from the traditional tale in a few ways.)

Kissa Gotami was the woman whose young child had died in her arms, and unable to accept death, wept inconsolably to the gods for the resurrection of her child. Finally, she was brought to the Buddha who, knowing her inability to accept death, and would therefore continue to suffer, instructed that she should get a handful of mustard seeds from a house that has had no death, and bringing these to him, he would perform the miracle she was pleading for.

Scene: Throughout, there is no change of scene. There is only one light shining on the actor. There may be changes to this light depending on the mood of the “action”. We can take it that this light emanates from the Buddha, who is invisible to the audience. This is a conversation between the protagonist and the Buddha. Kissa Gotami enters hurriedly, almost frantic with joy. In her hand, she clutches a handkerchief. As she quickly bows to the Buddha, she is almost in tears, so filled with hope and joy she is. And yet, there seems to be a look of fear and distance in her eyes.

Kissa: O revered master, here they are, here they are… I have finally found what you need for the miracle. I have the mustard seeds here… here… from a house untainted by death! Please, please, perform the miracle now… now! I have done what you asked of me… I went begging at every threshold at every house… asking for these mustard seeds. (She trembles as she holds up the bundle.) Every house I went to… every wife and mother I could beg from… when I asked for the mustard seeds were too happy to give them to me… but when I told them about the condition… about your condition, O lord, that their house must not be contaminated by death, they shook their heads… some began to cry, some shouted at me… some even cursed me, saying I was a fool… like a donkey with no understanding… but here they are, O revered master, mustard seeds from a house where there has been no death. Take them quickly, O true master, perform your wonderful miracle, and give my child back to me…

Buddha (unheard): O Kissa, these mustards seeds come from a house that has not seen the sorrow of death?

Kissa: No, compassionate master, revered teacher of humanity, that beautiful but pale lady of the house told me that her hearth and kitchen had not been sullied by the pollution of death. Imagine my joy… when she told me that. Hers was the last house but one in the village that I had gone to. She was glad to be of help when I told her about this condition. She looked so pure and radiant, so distant and beautiful, so quiet and peaceful. I thought I saw her round eyes fill with tears but then she gave me such a soft gentle smile, I was sure she was heaven sent - like an angel, O master, to grant me my wish. As she moved to the small earthen jar to get me her unsullied mustard seeds, I saw that her kitchen was clean, and simple… the house was quiet… it was so peaceful there, with her.

Then I saw, under the huge kitchen table, tucked away in a corner, a basket, a crib for a baby, with a rag doll all bundled up under a blanket. The red blanket caught my eye, and the big eyes of the rag doll… she saw me looking… and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask her where her child was… but she smiled at me, and gently patted her stomach… O master, I was so filled with happiness for her. And yet, I was reminded of my child taken away from me – a wave of sorrow welled up within me – but then I remembered that this was the angel who would help me get my child back, and my sorrow turned to laughter. Her wonderful mustard seeds would allow you to perform the miracle. O master, what joy, what immeasurable joy came over me… I kissed her hands, my tears mingled with my gratitude, and took these seeds from her hand, her angelic white hand. When I left her house, she stood there smiling softly, like an angel from the far heavens come down to grant me my heartbreaking wish… so here they are, O compassionate lord, take them, perform your miracle… let me hold my child, my darling, sweet, sweet child, all warm and soft against his mother’s breast… O please…!

Buddha (unheard): Kissa…

Kissa: Yes, master…

Buddha (unheard): Do you really think the dead can return to life?

Kissa: The dead cannot return to life, master, but you, you with your special divine powers, you who have understood the secret of life, gained the wisdom of the ancients, communed with the heavenly beings, you can perform this miracle… You told me you could… with these mustard seeds that you have asked me to find. O master, have pity on me, on this poor mother whose heart is breaking for the child she loves so much. He is my only child, O sweet master. How I had longed for him. Longed for a child like him… and the divine masters had blessed me with this sweet child. O master, you have not seen my child – his eyes sparkle with the light of laughter, his cheeks silken and rosy… each time I suckled him, his tiny hand would play with my hair, and the light of joy from his eyes I would drink, filling my thirsty heart. O master, if you had seen him, you would immediately know that this child of mine is worthy of saving, worthy of your miracle, worthy of bringing back to life… for he would fill the world with sunshine and laughter… he would fill my life, my empty life, with warmth and light, chasing the darkness away.

O master, it is a pity that you cannot see him as I can see him. O master, have faith in a mother’s love. I have faith in you… have faith in my love. I have faith in you, O master. Unlike my husband who has lost all hope, who perhaps thinks I am mad, mad to come to you like this… pleading for my child to be given back to me… what is a mother to do? My husband has no faith, O master, he just sits in a corner, and cries… he cries until he has no more tears to cry… But my heart is an unending river, O master, an unending river of tears that flows and overflows each time I think of my child, each time I see someone else’s child… I have asked all the wise people in the village. They told me no one could help me except you. You, O Buddha, compassionate one… you who can hear and understand our sorrow… they brought me to you.

My husband told me it would be no use… but then he has no faith… he does not understand how a mother feels. He just goes about doing things as if nothing has happened… but I can’t! My heart is breaking, even now… can there be nothing to remove this pain in me? And yet it would not break because it is held together with a thin thread of hope, and faith, that you can give me back my child…

Buddha (unheard): Put the mustard seeds on the ground.

Kissa: Put the mustard seeds…? [She puts them on the ground.] I have done so, lord.

Buddha (unheard): Look at these seeds closely, Kissa. [She looks at them, then looks up questioningly, and looks at them again.] Think of the pale and beautiful lady who gave you these seeds.

Kissa: The pale and beautiful lady who gave me these seeds? Yes, my lord, I remember her very well – that pale angel whose radiant face of peace fills me with hope. She is with child, may your blessings be showered upon her and her child to come, O master, just as you will shower your blessings upon me and my child to return. You ask me to think upon her – I see her so clearly in my mind, standing there, next to the kitchen table, beautiful, radiant, pale… thin… a little bit frail… her collarbones showing… her dress hanging from her shoulders loosely… and her eyes wide with wonder… but somehow distant… like she was caught by surprise or something… something she keeps seeing before her… something she keeps remembering… and she was leaning against the table when I spoke to her about the mustard seeds… she had looked away for an instant… her thin frame trembling a little… then she turned to me with that beautiful smile, her eyes wide, soft…. and wet… so happy she could help me.
[Pause for five beats]
She turned towards the table, to get the jars of spices set against the wall. She turned as if she couldn’t move her left leg properly – she was leaning against the table with her left hip. As she reached over the table to get the jar, I noticed the boniness of her hips under her dress… and then, she picked up the skirt of her dress to wipe the dusty jar… it was very dusty… like it hadn’t been opened for a long time… then I noticed her very thin legs, pale and frail. It was then that I saw the little brown basket with the red blanket, with the rag doll, a toy for a child, sewn lovingly by a mother’s hand… no… no, it was… it was a rag doll that wasn’t finished. It had a face but no body, no stuffing… just a face with two big round eyes… but no life… incomplete, unfulfilled, just a beginning, a promise unfulfilled… [pause for five beats – the realization begins to fill her] She told me she was with child; that her child was coming!… [Her sobs are stuck in her throat]. She saw me looking at the doll, and as I was about to ask her, she smiled… distantly, sadly… and put her hand on her stomach… aaaahh!… [Kissa gives in to the full realization of her own delusion and weeps].

An unborn child does not die! [She looks into the light, shakes her head slowly at the total improbability of what she has just said, begins to crumble.] It died in her womb… incomplete, unfinished, a promise unfulfilled… [She weeps] these mustards seeds have no power in them… she gave them to me believing that her child never died… she had never even held her child… O master… she lied to me! How could she do that? And me in such pain and sorrow! She lied to me… a child died in the womb is a child dead… how can it be otherwise? O she was a lying angel, to have given me such hope, and now, all my hopes are gone… [Quietly] She lied to me; she was lying to herself; a child died in the womb is a child dead… her house had been sullied by death… these mustard seeds… [She also realizes that she has been lying to herself] O master, please… take my life so my child can live… [She weeps, and then pauses, a thought going through her head] Where will the soul of my child go? Who will take care of him? My poor helpless child! Will the gods help him? Will the saints come to his aid, hold his little hand for me, so he will not be afraid, so he will not fall? Will there be someone kind to hold him, like I do…? Why should I live when I have nothing to live for?

Buddha (unheard): Your strong attachment to your child binds you and blinds you, Kissa.

Kissa: O master, why talk you of attachment when it is a mother’s love that makes me feel this way – I want to be bound to my child! I am bound to my child by my love. If the gods do not know this, surely that one God knows this. That one God who created the whole universe, all the universes, surely he knows of a mother’s love! Where does this love come from if not from God? Is my son not of my flesh and blood, nurtured in my womb, and then suckled at my breast with tenderness and love – are these things not real? My love does not blind me, it’s my tears that blind me! Why so cruel? To give, and then, to take away… to let me taste the sweetness of love, of living, and then, to drown me in the bitter sorrow of death, of dying…?

You speak not of God… you speak only of sorrow, illness, decay and death… you speak not of hope and desires fulfilled… you speak only of desirelessness, of non-attachment. What’s the use of talking about suffering when you know that is our lot anyway? Now I come to you with the hope that you, a great master, will remove my suffering… and you cannot even do that… You’ve asked me to fetch those mustard seeds, I have begged frantically from everyone there is, and I have brought them… but now they won’t work. They won’t work, you can’t work your miracle because there is no such thing as no death. Death comes to all. Those who have life will die. Those who breathe will decay and die… and there is no escape from this… from this life of tears, of pain, of loss, of dying, of constantly dying every day. Even as we live, each moment each day, we die… we live towards our death. Nothing can stop it!

But how cruel? To give us laughter, momentary joys, unlasting, impermanent doses of sweet happiness that disappears too soon into nothingness, and replace it with… Moments of joy that make us believe that this will last, that life will last, that good fortune will ever be with us… it never lasts… nothing lasts… how cruel, to knock us this way and that until we know not what to do… until we go mad… until we give up… and die!

[Pause. She looks into the light.]

O master… I see your light, I feel the gentle warmth from your radiant face… you give me peace. How did you find it? Is this what it is? That you are called Siddhartha, the one who has achieved, because you have found peace? Will this peace last? Does this mean you will suffer no more? Are you beyond the vale of sorrow we call life? If I follow your footsteps, follow the path you talk about, will I come to where you are now? I have nothing left to hold me… and I do not want to return to where it will always end up the same.

[Pause. Suddenly she looks up, resolute, and then, softly…]

I have finally found what I need for a miracle – my soul and my willingness to follow you… Here I am, here I am… perhaps, you will perform your miracle on me… O revered master, may I follow…?

THE END

Journeys to the Buddha II VASANTASENA

(It must be noted that Vasantasena is a character based on a combination of characters found in the stories from the Dhammapada. Vasantasena’s story here recalls the experience of the Queen Khema. It is therefore a fictionalized dramatic account based on some fact, as are the other two pieces in this series of monologues,)

A courtesan known for her wealth, beauty, elegance, and charitable works, Vasantasena is, however, entrapped in her vanity and attachment to the body and physical beauty. She comes to the Buddha, having heard of his great wisdom, hoping to impress him with her beauty, wealth, and stature. But of course, the great teacher has something else in store for her – for though she is deluded by the reality of the body, her good deeds nevertheless had accumulated enough merit for the Buddha to perform the miracle of her realizing the impermanence of the body.

Scene: Throughout, there is no change of scene. There is only one light shining on the actor. There may be changes to this light depending on the mood of the “action”. We can take it that this light emanates from the Buddha, who is invisible to the audience. This is a conversation between the protagonist and the Buddha.

Vasantasena enters – a vision of loveliness – in a cloud of shimmering silk and embroidered brocade, a gossamer veil over her face. The soft rustle of her silken robes whisper of wealth, poetry and elegance. Her eyes darkened with kajal and her painted ruby red lips contrast sharply with her glowing fair skin. She wears her hair in beaded braids and she is ornamented with silver and gems of the richest colours. Every movement is a skillful pose of dramatic intention – to enchant, to arrest the onlooker. She enters, having succeeded in gaining an audience with the Buddha, with the sole intention of impressing upon him her powerful beauty and personality, and to invite the Buddha to visit her palatial residence in order to enhance her reputation and fame in the city.

She enters, a basket of fruits and flowers in hand, with the full awareness that the vision of her loveliness will leave everyone in the room breathless – and yet she is masterful enough to hide this (veiling this with a look of “humility” – a practiced look of downcast eyes) from the Buddha. However, although she has practiced her entrance many times in her mind, she is unprepared for the radiant peace emanating from the Buddha the moment she sees him. She is immediately thrown off balance. In this moment of tremulousness, she quickly makes a bow to hide her discomfiture, and as she raises her face, she makes an effort to regain her composure. She succeeds, and as she addresses the Buddha, she is her complete and supremely confident self – in full control of her senses and skills. She gently touches her golden basket of offerings.

Vasantasena: Revered master, the heat of summer is refreshed by your coming, like the fragrant showers of colourful spring. Your congregation, like a gathering of monsoon clouds, brings sweet promise of life-giving rain with their heavenly chanting… Your devotee makes this simple, humble offering – choicest fruits and flowers from the garden called Eternal Spring… your devotee, Vasantasena, come hither to seek the master’s blessings.

Buddha (unheard): The generous Vasantasena… blessings upon you.

Vasantasena: Generous! The master is too kind! For this is just what my two small hands can bring… and being told that this hall would not… could not… admit my fifty servants, by reason of it being already full of devotees eager to be in the master’s presence, I have entered alone, with this mere basket. Master, judge not the size of the basket but for the contents handpicked by your devotee… and measure not the value of the contents but for the heart that is giving, eager to please…

Buddha (unheard): The giving heart is what matters most…

Vasantasena: And yet, your devotee’s giving heart suffers not a little – not being able to express in full the means and scope of her giving, therefore unable to experience the joy that surely must come with giving. (She gently lifts her veil from her face. This has an immediate effect on the congregation which can be perceived by the way she subtly lowers her eyes with the slightest tinge of a smile.) I am in no doubt that the master is content… with this vast and spacious hall but it appears insufficient for the needs of the congregation… and the monsoon is soon to arrive… an unmended roof brings misery to those who live under it. The rains, so eagerly awaited for throughout this heated summer, will dampen the spirits of all who seek to pray and meditate in your presence. Why worry them with the damp, cold floor when they should be listening to the master’s words mindfully? Sheltered properly from the rains, without distraction, the effort of your devotees will surely bear fruit. Shielded from extreme heat or cold, wet and wind, the master’s words will surely reach the hearts of his devotees.

In the abode of your humble devotee, Vasantasena, there are two large halls for such gatherings, a fair number of pavilions in my grove of fruit bearing trees and fragrant flowers, all surrounding a… simple… mansion of 32 chambers, each set out to instill rest, quiet, and tranquility. In the two large halls, when their doors are closed, those seated within will hear nothing but their own breathing… and when the doors are opened, birdsong will drift in with the gentle breeze blowing through the trees. When the master comes, if he deigns to satisfy the simple but deep desire of his devotee, these halls will be filled with the voice of wisdom and the sounds of his devotees chanting. According to the master’s wishes, and for his comfort and pleasure, my one hundred servants will look to the master’s needs – from dawn till dusk. It will be your humble devotee’s greatest joy to serve in this way, O master.

On days that the master deem fit for a moment’s respite for his devotees from the strenuous efforts of constant prayer and meditation, your humble servant, Vasantasena, will present articulate morsels of diversion to lighten the hearts and minds of the master’s congregation – just gentle, simple revelations of our delicate meditations.

Your humble servant, Vasantasena, believes, perhaps not rightly in the master’s eyes, that meditation on art, poetry, and beauty is not dissimilar to the meditations that the master engages his devotees in. The subjects may differ but the methods are similar.

Buddha (unheard): Tell us more, Vasantasena…

Vasantasena: The master is extremely gracious to his humble devotee Vasantasena in asking her to explain her narrow views… A courtesan’s life is devoted to art and beauty. She yokes her mind, her heart, and her breath to the disciplines of rhythm, song, dance, tradition, rites and customs to create in herself a sensitivity so fine it can be likened to a single strand of silk pulled taut just so to vibrate in harmony with the air around it! She meditates upon perfection in everything she does… In song, in movement, in ritual, in ceremony, she moves silently, her mind set on achieving a balance of her heart, her mind, and her body; she creates an inner reality, and unites that through her art with the outer reality. By doing that, she unites the hearts and minds of her audience to herself. Through her efforts of discipline and concentration, she gains beauty, and poetry of being… and this reward she renders as a gift, both to herself and her audience, each time she performs, creating herself anew.

But it is not just song and dance, master. The beauty that she gains nourishes her spirit, fills her heart and her mind with the power to enchant and enlighten… the hearts and minds of others… if I may… (She makes a gentle bow and begins to sing, softly, weaving a web of enchantment as she moves her hands gracefully in the air. Suddenly, she notices something she did not see before, and it is so distracting, her song trails off unfinished. She is spellbound! She looks at the Buddha questioningly, and reverts her gaze on the space next to him.)

Who is that? A radiant goddess descended from heaven! Master, when did she arrive to sit next to you? She glows and shimmers like a pearl caressed by moonlight. Her complexion is soft, milky white, and her unpainted lips are red rosebuds! Can it be that a woman can be so beautiful as to not require a single stroke of art or colour on her face? Surely she is the goddess born of the milky ocean who sits on the lotus but now divested of her celestial ornaments, and yet now more beautiful, more enchanting! Or is she the goddess of the swan who plays the lute and sings wisdom dreaming songs but now seated in quiet repose next to you, freed of her celestial duties… and yet now more wondrous in her tranquility. Whence came she?… (She struggles between admiration and envy.) I thought, wrongly, that I possessed the highest beauty. From whom did she learn her art – so artless and simple… it can only be true beauty… that which I have always dreamed of but knew not how to achieve. Why? See how she carries her soft silky hand to her face to brush her porcelain smooth cheek – it is like a white dove had flown to drink the dew from a soft white cloud! Ah! Her smile! Those rosebud red lips… awakening to the kiss of the sun in a smile. Can such perfection exist? Alas, I fear no matter how much I try, I will never attain such perfection!… what use is my art, my constant meditation on creating beauty to capture the hearts of men, when there is this to prove me false? What use my reputation, my wealth, and my artistry, when there is this to tell me that I am just a mask? A painted mask of desires, disguised as art and poetry to delude… and blind! (She lowers her gaze. Then she looks up again. Now something else catches her attention.) Why is she filled with sadness all of a sudden? As if a great burden is upon her fair shoulders! O no! Master, I think she is sick! Look! She turns pale, and her eyes strain with sorrow… her red lips turn grey! Why, the skin on her hand is withered with wrinkles as she trembles to brush off her falling hair! Her hair! O Master! What is wrong with her? Can somebody not help her! O she weeps… poor, old hag…! She has turned into an… old… hag! O pitiful creature! O master, please help her… she is withering away right in front of our eyes. Aaahh! Her eyes…! (She covers her face, unable to bear the sight. She pants, trembling, and sobs! Slowly, she looks up… and she is surprised.)

Where is she? The beautiful goddess who withered away into an old woman and died right in front of me? Where is she, Master? Am I dreaming? Have I lost my senses? I saw a vision of perfect loveliness… and then I saw a vision of decay and death. Was that just a vision? Was that real? A woman of such divine beauty can capture the hearts of even the gods for all eternity, and yet, she perished in a moment!

The gods are eternal but we are not! How long does beauty last? How long can this body last against age and time? Life and then, death in a moment… life and then, death in fifty, sixty years… what is the difference? When youth and beauty are gone, what remains? Transient like the clouds… yet the clouds return in a different shape… but neither youth nor beauty do… Time takes away everything… even now! Even as I sit here, my youth and my beauty disappear quietly, secretly with each breath I take, each time I exhale. Is there nothing to stop it? When will the time come when I will begin to decay like her? Perhaps it is now… is this a wrinkle I see on my hand? How long more can I hide the marks of Time behind the painted brush? (Desperately) O master, please help me… let not Time come to me. Let not Time rob me of what I have, so precious to me. Let me not perish! Let me give everything I have in exchange for this… (She weeps.) O what horror awaits me, with time standing at the door, constantly staring at me!

All my life, I have fought it in my soul. With every breath, with every thought, I strove to touch eternity… (long pause – a moment of realisation) but I was a fool. I sought to touch eternity among men, in their hearts, in their minds… Theirs are as impermanent as mine. With my decaying body, I believed I could possess the radiance of immortality. Ha ha ha! A woman’s vanity and foolishness. The radiance I yearned for is as transient as the flame of a flickering candle – beautiful, glorious, poetic as long as it lasts – bright and glowing in the night – for a mere hour - but dying nevertheless. Living and dying; youth, beauty, and old age; they all come one upon the other… the one changes into the other – and that is the constant – that doesn’t change. Sickness and sorrow, joy and tears, laughter and worry… we are thrown back and forth between these extremes… thrown about until we are worn out… worn out by life and living… until we find repose in death! (She is overcome.)

All my life, I thought art was living. With sorrow and sickness, death and dying surrounding us each day amidst the humdrum of breathing and living, art and beauty were the only things that helped me forget that I was standing in mud. The moon and the stars were too far away – their promise unattainable. With nowhere to turn, I turned to the world of make believe, of the imagination… I tuned my senses to the poetic fall of a dying leaf, to the windblown whispering blossoms of the jasmine; I directed my mind to the skills of enchantment, and my hand to paint brush, pen and silk fan; to the art of song and the spoken word, the dance and the drama, I gave my total attention… my total breath. And relished the enraptured attention of those whose heart and mind were held prisoner by a gentle glance, a slight smile, and gracious hands that could create earth and sky. To hold prisoner those who would resist but could not. To make them forget their mundane world, and find joy in mine. How else could I escape this mundane world but by creating a new world of my own? A world of light, radiance, poetry, and power I would create anew with each new day. A world in which all could bask endlessly in the luminosity of a thousand lanterns – all, brighter than the moon and the stars - when the night brought her cloak of darkness…

[Quietly] I imagined myself mistress of my own world… denying that it is merely a world within another. And having that imaginary world, where I seemed to enjoy power over those who stepped into it, I imagined myself capable of conquering another… how foolish… I thought I could bring you into mine… (She pauses.) Please forgive me my impudence, my vanity and my arrogance… O master, you have shown me the truth – beauty and youth are impermanent, as is this body. Even as it is created out of flesh and blood, it begins to decay… I know now that my life is all in vain – because I have deluded myself. I feared the darkness, and searched for light but only had lanterns to walk the night. I prided myself for mocking the darkness but now must face the darkness… once again. (She bows.) If you would permit me, O master, I leave, in shame, begging your pardon for my vanity and foolishness…

Buddha (unheard): Vasantasena, the path you seek is not unattainable…

Vasantasena: The path I seek is not unattainable? There is a way to renew my search? You will teach me? This foolish woman who is surely undeserving of your kindness and compassion?

Buddha (unheard): Repeat after me: Buddham Sharanam Gacchaami
Vasantasena: Buddham Sharanam Gacchaami – The Buddha is my refuge

Buddha (unheard): Dhammam Sharanam Gacchaami

Vasantasena: Dhammam Sharanam Gacchaami – The Dharma is my refuge

Buddha (unheard): Sangam Sharanam Gacchaami

Vasantasena: Sangam Sharanam Gacchaami – The Sangam is my refuge. (She rises, looks into the light with a newly awakened joy.) O master, I will go now to make arrangements – to have all my possessions left for my kith and kin, and for my loyal servants whom I will set free… and I will return… I will follow you.

THE END

Journeys to the Buddha III ANGULIMALA

(This is a dramatic account of Angulimala’s conversation with the Buddha before his realization of truth. It is based on some fact, as are the other two pieces in this series of monologues, but differs from the traditional tale in a few ways.)

His real name was Ahimsaka, the non-violent one, and he was dutiful, filial, dedicated, sincere and honest. But fate dealt him a severe blow in the form of his classmates who were envious of his achievements as well as their guru’s love for him. Marring his reputation by suggesting that Ahimsaka was engaging in an illicit relationship with the guru’s wife, Ahimsaka became victim of this wrongdoing – and his guru expelled him from the ashram. This fateful turn of events turned the gentle Ahimsaka into a terrible and terrifying robber who would wear the fingers of his victims. This is the miraculous story of his turning point when he met the Buddha… and finally finding peace in a most unique way.

Sc: Throughout, there is no change of scene. There is only one light shining on the actor. There may be changes to this light depending on the mood of the “action”. We can take it that this light emanates from the Buddha, who is invisible to the audience. This is a conversation between the protagonist and the Buddha. Enter Angulimala, disheveled, bruised and bloody. For a moment, he is doubled over in pain but he masters it by breathing deeply. Slowly, he sits erect in the lotus position but with much pain he does this. Throughout we do not hear what the Buddha says. It is by the way Angulimala speaks that we get an idea of what the master has said to him. This is to say that only Angulimala can hear him.

Angulimala: O revered master, I am returned from my sojourn to the town, away from you, from this ashram, to seek that which my heart could not find…

Buddha (unheard): Did you find it there, my son?

Angulimala: No, master, not there. There I found the seeds of my past misdeeds bearing fruit. Seeds of sin, anger and hatred, now bitter fruits of pain and revenge. There I found the things I once did to others, now being done to me… no, master, what I had done was much worse, much worse than this… I went begging as a bikkhu, as a gentle monk looking for alms, and I did receive some charity but as I was about to eat, a stone hit my hand that held the bowl. I looked up. “Murderer!” the man shouted, “you are Angulimala, the murderous bandit, putting on the cloak of deceit come to drink our blood!” In his eyes, shining with anger and hatred, I saw my own face, how I used to be, filled with bloodlust and mindless cruelty. Then I saw too, deep in his eyes, behind that fire of hatred, the deep sorrow of loss and pain, of having the people he loved murdered by me. O master, at that moment, I caught his anguish in my heart, a knot of pain so tight, so hard, I could not breathe… by then, many had gathered around me, scrambling to hit me and to kick me. I received all their blows of hatred, pain and sorrow… I could not resist… I realized I was not there to fight for my life… but to accept it, to accept the life I had chosen to live.

But O master, the blows and bruises I received could not compare with the pain of the woman whose scream tore the heavens. “Let me look upon him! Let me see the murderous coward who killed my husband who had no money on him to be robbed! Let me look upon him whose cruelty knows no bounds – who would chop off my innocent child’s hand just to cut a finger for his bloody garland.” Thereupon, she, whose eyes and face were worn with the tears of ceaseless mourning, pulled a young child, shriveled with fear, towards her. “This is the terrible Angulimala, son, who killed your father, and chopped off your hand!” And with a stick she hit me until her hatred turned into despair, despair into tears… and then she wept. “Killing you will not bring my husband back, nor my child his hand.” It was then, O revered master, I understood the suffering I had given to others. It was clear to me, clear as the light that shines from your face, O teacher, that a man must face his past, to come into the light of understanding…

(He weeps, remembering the past…)

O master, I was my father’s good son – his pride, his joy, versed in the scriptures and established in piety. In the ashram, I was my teacher’s most excellent student, and he taught me with love the wisdom of the ancients. But some of my classmates, envious of my achievements, planted seeds of doubt and suspicion in my teacher’s mind. The shameful idea that I had evil desires to encroach upon the sanctity of his wife, the most revered lady whom I respected and adored as I did my own mother… O revered master, to have my teacher spurn me in anger and hate, him that I admired and loved so much… I left the ashram with my teacher’s vehement abuses hurled at my back. I could not fathom then the reason for my circumstances, the depth of my loss. With tears of bewilderment, I journeyed home, trying to understand the scope of my error, trying to discover where my faults lay…

Just as the sun had begun to set, I came upon the threshold of my father’s house. “Get out! Do not bring shame into my house, you ingrate. You displeased your guru with your evil thoughts and carnal desires… never did I beget a son such as you. Leave now, and never come back!” I listened in amazement and watched my father mouth these words of pain even as a torrent of tears rushed from his eyes. I began to plead with my beloved father, whom I had missed for the years I had spent away in the ashram. I held his feet. He kicked me free of him. The dust stung my eyes. He would not hear me speak. He would give no ear to my pleas. He pushed me hard, blinded by his tears, until I fell to the ground, and then he closed the door shut. He would not let me in. I could hear him crying behind the door, “I have no such son who would bring shame and dishonour to our name.”

Thus it was, that in a day my good fortune turned from me, my merits of good conduct and piety did not accumulate enough to protect me from this evil that came so suddenly. My years of following the path of dharma did not gather in my father’s nor my guru’s embrace to shield me from this unseen torrent of misfortune.

O revered master, how was I to know? How was I to understand the seeds of my past actions would one day ripen, when I least expected it, and the fruits of my karma would fall around me? How was I to know?

Buddha (unheard): My son, no one knows. Not even the wisest among men. Not even the gods!

Angulimala: If even the wisest among men, nor the gods, know this, then who does?

Buddha (unheard): No one… and there is little use in knowing.

Angulimala: Yes, master, you have taught us that… there is little use in knowing, for the ripening of karma is a direct consequence of a previous action or deed upon the condition of the body, the mind, and the spirit… for it to achieve its final resolution, the impact of that karma must be experienced in full, in the body, the mind, and the spirit. There is no escape. Acceptance is all… [He writhes in agony, and becomes breathless for a moment] O master, since acceptance is all, allow me to remember my past so that I can achieve a full understanding of my life…

Buddha (unheard): Do so, my son.

Angulimala: Leaving my father’s house, I became homeless. I walked in the wilderness of the forest, my mind cast against the darkness of my crumbling world. From within the deepest part of me, dark despair welled up to seize my heart. Neither my trembling nor my unceasing tears could wash it away. It was then that I understood loneliness. Loneliness that had no place in my life before, for my life before then was filled with the love, warmth and affection of a loving father. A dark, choking emptiness seized me… [pause, and then quietly] And then, I felt something cold against my neck. Hot words snarled into my face, “Don’t move, or I will slit your throat! Empty your pockets!”

Out of the darkness within me, a blinding flash of light seared my mind, and I heard a scream… I had my hand on the robber’s knife… and it was in his throat. I felt a great surge of energy coursing through my hand, my legs, into my body, my heart and my mind. It was power. It was strength. Moments before this, I was weak and desperate, but now I was strong and powerful. A new courage came over me… all of a sudden everything was bright in my mind, it was clear. I would fight fate, and live. I would not be a victim, but the victor. I would rise, stand tall, grasp fate by the tail and bring it to its knees… and then I would sacrifice it, blood and all, to my loneliness. For if this was to be my lot, I would do well to make the best of it. I had to accept what came – and stand tall like a hero unafraid of fate and misfortune. Conquer fate I would, mar his face with my knife and give him a mirror. And laugh at his misfortune.

A great sense of pride and joy filled me when I found a small bag of silver on the man. With a laugh, I kicked him over, and then a ring on his little finger caught my eye. It was a ruby set in gold. It shone, beckoning with temptation, but it was difficult to remove… so I cut off his finger, and put the bloodied ring on mine. In the moonlight, his blood and his ruby shone on my hand. I had never felt so strong, so wonderful, so elated. I heard a wolf cry, and my laughter burst forth from my bowels, ringing through the forest. I was a man. Stronger than any man! And I had a trophy to prove it – the little finger! It would remind me of my growing power over fate.

Angulimala’s glory days followed… I robbed for food and money, and the little fingers. Unwilling victims had my knife in their throats, in their eyes, in their hearts. Within a short time, I strung my trophies together and put them around my neck. My victims would take one look at my necklace of little fingers and begin to shiver… “Angulimala!” they would scream with terror… but more often than not I would cut short their screams with a quick slash of my sharp knife. I only wanted to hear my own laughter of victory. [He laughs loud… this becomes tears] But their screams were always in my ears… so I laughed louder and harder, so I killed them faster and faster… so fast, sometimes I did not even look… there were men, many men… there were women, young and old… there were children… [he remembers] there was a child who did not cry… who just said “don’t”… and I cut off his hand. I had slit his father’s throat. The boy’s finger was my nine hundredth!

It was not so much the money… it was the fingers! They were the symbol of my power, of my reign of terror. My fame reached far and wide. My name was on everyone’s lips. It was the name of the fear that filled their hearts. Travelers would not know when I would strike, nor where I would hide. Every new route they found through the forest, was already a route marked by me. They did not know that the forest was my castle, that I could sight or sense their coming from any direction. They did not know that they were walking right into the jaws of death.

Every traveler would beseech protection from the gods before they set out… they would mention my name, “Angulimala”, as the greatest evil from which they need protection…
This was my glory – my conquest of fate. Now every man’s fate was in my hands. Now every man’s trembling heart would bear my name. My name would bring a hush of silence to any assembly. Children would cry. Women would drop their clay pots. And men would rush home to hide. I was more powerful than the king!

[He coughs and writhes in pain]

O master, they could not capture me… I knew all their traps and ruses even before they could finish preparing them. I was brilliant and strong, invincible… until I met you. [He struggles with his pain and a pang of realization] I did not know it then but I know now – that day in the forest, when I was running after you to kill you, the merits I had accumulated were bearing fruit…

You were to be my thousandth… the last little finger that would complete my vow against fate… O master, how calm you were, how radiant with peace… and there I was, running, faster and faster, to catch up, driven by my insatiable desire to kill just once more to satisfy my dark desire… and there you were walking ahead of me, always ahead of me, never hurrying, in the strangest composure I have never seen before. O master, how serene your gait, and my beating heart and pounding feet could only yearn for the vision of you, ahead of me, always ahead of me. In my foolishness, I did not recognize the miracle, and yet, in my foolishness, I cried out “Stop!” You said, “I have stopped. Have you?”

[He is overcome…] O joyful day! To know in a flash that my life till then had been a journey into darkness, and now, a master has come to light the way, to lead me out of the forest of ignorance and despair… O sacred day! [All of a sudden he stiffens with pain, and then shivers… it passes, he becomes weak] How does one measure your compassion? How does one begin to talk about your love for humanity? How does one understand the wisdom of your ways, O great teacher of mankind? My good deeds did acquire merit. Against the innumerable deeds of cruelty I have done, I must have done much, much more good to have the grace to come to your holy feet.

You gave me forgiveness, you gave me light, you showed me compassion, you showed me, in spite of my sins, I am worthy of light… you turned the mirror of my soul back to me, so that I could begin to see myself. You showed me again the wisdom of the ancients, and then you revealed to me the wisdom of the heart…

Will I ever be able to return this great kindness that I had never known? If it were to take eternity, and countless births, I pray for this one memory, to be seared forever in my soul, that I should ever bend my head to you, and that my soul should follow your light…

[a cry of pain, and difficulty in breathing]

And yet, O master, even as you soothed my pain, removed my heart’s despair, lightened my days as I sat in your presence, among your thousand disciples and devotees, I could find no peace within. You told me, master, that I should search my heart, seek the answers there… for a long time, I found none but only the thought of leaving you and the ashram, and venturing into the town to seek alms, and perhaps, find the answers to the unspoken questions in my heart.

[He coughs violently, writhing in pain]

O revered master, I am returned from my sojourn to the town, away from you, from this ashram, to seek that which my heart could not find…

Buddha (unheard): Did you find it there, my son?

Angulimala: No, master, not there but I have found it now, it is here… I understand now… I accept… I accept all… [He smiles through his tears, and breathes his last]


THE END

Mira - XV RadhaKrishna

RADHAKRISHNA

Haridas brings in Mira, into the circle of the gopis. Mira is now in a resplendent white dress with pearls.

Haridas: Mira, your presence here is like Krishna's flute song that comes upon the gentle breeze from the Yamuna. Brindavan is aflame with colour, filled with the sweetest bird song and aglow with joy. Your destiny has come. Our beloved Hari brought you here because your heart was yearning for him. I, too, am yearning for him but alas, is there anyone else whose love and yearning is greater and purer than yours...?

Mira: O Haridas, my breath and my life belong to him... I know no other life, no other way. I know I have him in my heart but I also know that there is more. I want to be in his heart... my body and soul in his heart... a sob catches in her throat. When will be that day?

Haridas: O Mira, I had a vision today of our beloved Krishna. While chanting his beautiful, bliss-giving name, our supreme lord blessed me with a revelation; that he has been waiting for you, his Radha incarnate, his supreme beloved. [Mira gazes at him.] He told me to bring you here to this garden of kadamba trees. [She is visibly excited about meeting Krishna at last.] And he said, "Perform the precious duty of the go-between, O gentle sakhi, bring us together, my beloved and I, as you have always done."

Mira: Lalitha! [Realizing her divine destiny. They embrace, overcome by the divine revelation given to them.] My loving friend... for ages you listened to my sighs, soothed the sorrow of my separation from my beloved, persuaded me of his love...

Haridas: O Radharani... too soon he took you unto him, too eager were you to melt into him. When you left us, spring was less colourful, love was not as sweet, and laughter was not as joyful. The eternal sages had been drinking deep from the divine ecstasy of RadhaKrishna; they awoke from bliss that lasted a thousand years, thirsting for more. Now you have come, and they are here... [Mira looks around her at the gopis.] Brindavan is Brindavan again. And your beloved is waiting. [Haridas touches her face and leaves. The seated gopis all face Mira standing in the center of their circle.]

Mira, softly: Mere to giridhara gopala, dusara na koi
Ja ke sira mora mukuta, mero pati soi
Mine is the mountain holder, no one else but he
With his peacock-feather crown, he's the husband for me
Mere to giridhara gopala, dusara na koi
Ja ke sira mora mukuta, mero pati soi

She sings this line several times to reveal the many layers of her love for Krishna, and reenacts their first meeting and falling in love with each other, their subsequent secret meetings, the joy of being together, their separation, her pining, her longing turning to despair, and their coming together again.

The rhythm of the song develops and she begins to dance. She is joined by the gopis who have been watching her with ecstasy. They all dance in a great swirl of joy and abandon until they come to a sudden stop - all fall down, delirious and happy. Then the song of Krishna's flute is heard. They listen to it with bated breath. Mira is filled with joy, expecting to see him any moment. She looks around, trying to determine the source of the music. Then it stops. Only silence. She waits, holding her breath.

She gets up, turns this way that way to see him coming to her. The silence seems eternal. Her senses surge out frantically for a glimpse, a touch, a whiff, a taste, and a sound of him. So intensely near and yet so excruciatingly far away. She begins to crumble, going mad in her mind that Krishna may not come to her, and sobs. Then, all of a sudden, the sound of ankle bells... and that sound is like the rumbling of thunder foretelling rain to the parched earth. Mira and the gopis look downstage left with great expectation.

The flute song comes again. Krishna enters downstage left, playing his flute, looking at Mira. His face is partially seen. He pauses, and allows the girls to look at him, to drink in his glorious form. He goes towards Mira. The rhythm of the drums reflects the beating of her heart. All of a sudden, she is shy, and covers her face. When Krishna reaches her, the moment of truth cannot be denied - she looks into his face and his eyes with inexpressible joy. The drums have increased in intensity.

All of a sudden, he stamps his foot, startling Mira, and then twirls her with a flourish. A new rhythm is begun, and Krishna dances his love dance with Mira. The speed of the dance increases with every line of the refrain. The gopis dance in ecstasy. They circle the divine couple. Krishna releases Mira from his embrace. The gopis gather around her and removes her white dress to reveal a sheer dark blue dress she wears underneath. Mira twirls with joy and she sings, her voice above the frenetic drum rhythms: "Mere to giridhara gopala, dusara na koi..." Krishna holds her again and they dance, so fast, as if they will be released from their bodies. The gopis raise their voices in exultation as they exit all sides. A huge piece of dark blue silk flutters down from above. It falls over Krishna and Mira and covers them. But then it falls flat on the ground - Krishna and Mira have disappeared. There is a short silence.

The flute, soft and low, is heard. The lights begin to dim. Slowly. In the auditorium, we can smell the fragrance of sandalwood. And then, we hear Mira's voice in the darkness: "Mere to giridhara gopala..."

[THE END]

Mira - XIV Rishis

RISHIS

In the kadamba woods, under the cloak of darkness, seven rishis are seated together, hardly visible. They are chanting "Om Narayanaaya". A soft blue light comes on behind them on the cyclo, and they are now seen in silhouette. They sing and then dance joyously, knowing that they will witness once again the divine experience of the cosmos.

Rishis: Hari narayana govinda shri
Jagan narayana govinda

Narayana govinda mukunda
Achyuta paramananda
Hari narayana govinda shri
Jagan narayana govinda

Venuvilola govinda hari narayana govinda
Vedanta sara govinda hari narayana govinda
Hari narayana govinda shri
Jagan narayana govinda

Hari narayana jaya narayana
Hari narayana bhaja narayana
Hari narayana hari narayana hari narayana hari hari om
Hari narayana hari narayana hari narayana hari hari om

As the rishis dance, they move separately towards the wings, and each one is replaced by two gopis. Knowing that Krishna will appear to claim his bride, Mira, they have transformed themselves into gopis, as before, so as to enjoy the supreme bliss-giving presence of the Divine Lover. With the transformation, the song is sung by the gopis. At the end of the song, the gopis sit in a circle centrestage... and wait. We hear a flute soft and slow, and the light begins to change...

Mira - XIII Brindavan

BRINDAVAN

Birdsong as the scene opens to reveal the idyllic lush landscape of Brindavan. In the distance, we can see scattered, as well as clustered, thatch roof huts. Furthest upstage left, protruding from the wings and jutting a quarter way onto stage, is a life-sized hut. Upstage right, under a shady tree, some mats on the ground, and a few other articles indicating the use of this space for satsangh. We see a few hermits, all men, going about their daily chores of collecting firewood, fruits and leaves, water from the river, etc. This is the holy man Haridas' ashram. Enter downstage right, Haridas followed by a few of his disciples. Their hair still wet, they have just returned from their ritual bath in the Yamuna, and they are singing with joy the praises of Krishna. The song they sing is the same as that of the cowherds in Mira's dream - Bhaje Radhe Govinda - but their style and manner are different. While the cowherds' song is full of rustic joy, Haridas and his disciples sing it with a recognizable "bhajan" style.

Haridas, and his disciples: Bhaje Radhe Govinda
Gopala tera pyara nama hai
Nandalala tera pyara nama hai
Mora mukuta maate tilaka gale vaijayanti mala
Prabhu gale vaijayanti mala
Koi kahe vasudevaki nandana koi kahe nanda lala
Prabhu koi kahe nanda lala

The group finishes the last few lines of the song under the tree and they all sit for their daily satsangh. Haridas sits, with his back to the tree, while the rest sit round, facing him. As they finish the song, one of the disciples near him pours him a drink from an earthen pot. He drinks, and then begins his talk.

Haridas: Govinda Krishna is love. He is love supreme. Love hidden and manifest; hidden in the hearts of men, manifest as the ocean of humanity, and infinite as the universe. Why, "love" is His name! For when we utter the name "Gopala", we immediately see and feel within us the constantly flowing divine love He has for us, His cows. For He is the divine cowherd, tending His cows with love and joy, keeping us close to him, and guiding us to the lush field of plenty. [Pause.] The Lord Supreme came to us in the form of Nandalala Gopala to show us that His divine manifestations can be in the simplest and humblest of circumstances, infusing the earth with joy and colour. In the form of Krishna, cousin to the Pandavas, He transcends the pomp and power of the greatest kings - though He oftentimes hides His hand, and his face, to delude us. This is His game, His leela. It is when we choose to open our hearts to Him, to surrender to His divine will that He reveals the truth: it is His love, love supreme, which upholds and transcends all creation. It is when we come to His holy feet, and sing His praises with faith and devotion, that we can contemplate on His beautiful, loving form of Nandalala, with his peacock feather crown, his garland of fragrant flowers, and his sweet... sweet smile... [Even as he says this, he is filled with the glorious vision of Gopal. He closes his eyes and a beatific smile is on his face. He gently sways, drinking in the nectarine vision... and then,]

Haridas: Ananda krishnan paramananda krishnan
Ananda nandana gopi gopala krishnan
Brindavanathil andru kuzhal oothinaan
En ullathil indru inba geetham paadinaan
Andrum indrum endrum avan ananda krishnan
Ananda nandana gopi gopala krishnan...

We are all gopis drinking the ambrosia from the look of love in his eyes.

The disciples are visibly moved by this revelation from their guru. Offstage, we hear Mira's voice - she is singing with joy. Haridas and his disciples are a little surprised, and curious.

Mira, offstage: Ananda sagara muralidhara
Mira prana radhe shyama venugopala
Ananda sagara muralidhara
Mira prana radhe shyama venugopala... [she enters on this last line of her song.]

A few disciples get up to see who has come. They are a little curious upon seeing the travel-worn Mira. Though they are polite they appear a little uneasy as it is not their guru's practice to admit female devotees or visitors. They form a sort of screen, centrestage, so that Mira will not be able to see their guru seated under the tree.

Disciple#1: Welcome, welcome, ma...

Mira: I have finally come to the holy and auspicious ashram of Saint Haridas. To be here in Brindavan is to be drinking from the fountain of Hari's grace. O, how wonderful to be here and how blessed all of you are!

Disciple#2: Pray, let us give you the necessary welcome, and offer you refreshments...

Mira: Mira has come a long way, across the desert, to quench her thirst for the love of Shyama venugopala. I know my Krishna is near... because the holy saint Haridas is here. I must see him... I want to tell him how Krishna has led me out of the materialistic mundane life of the court and brought me here to this joyous, radiant Brindavan. Bring me to your guru... looking at his holy face will be refreshment for me.

Disciple#1, hesitating: You appear to us a most saintly person yourself, ma, but you must forgive us for denying your request... Our guru does not receive female visitors...

Mira: Tell him I am devoted to Krishna...

Disciple#1, apologetic: He does not receive... female... devotees or guests. Mira is surprised to hear this. Please forgive us, ma.

Mira: Strange. Surely, in Brindavan, where Krishna reigns supreme as the Divine Lord and Lover, there is no other man but him... and we are all his gopis in his divine ras lila. Surely, in such close proximity here with my loving Krishna, we are all female, yearning for the Cosmic Beloved. Could it be that when the holy one is drinking from the fountain of bliss, he is still concerned with his body and his gender? And yet, having tasted of Krishna's love, continues to believe in the reality of the body...?

Even as she speaks, Haridas realizes the truth of her words and his error. He comes forward...

Haridas: O holy mother, the divine truth of your words has shattered the falseness of my ego. Please forgive me... my Krishna has blessed me by bringing you here. He humbly bows to her, tears on his face. This is a blessed, blessed day...

Mira, wiping his tears: In love with Krishna, loving Krishna... [They gaze into each other's eyes, recognizing and reflecting the depth of feeling within each other. They hug each other and laugh joyously.]

The disciples watch in puzzlement but then are also filled with the spontaneous joy emanating from the two saints. As the light fades, they sing "Bhaje Radhe Govinda".

Mira - XII Night

NIGHT

Nightfall. On the banks of the Yamuna river. A rock under a tree. Mira is seen gathering flowers, buds and blossoms, and laying them carefully over a layer of huge leaves and ferns on the ground by the rock. When this is ready, she looks out at the audience and comes forward smiling, as if she can see Krishna coming to her. Happily she runs back to her "bower" and picks up a garland she had made. She comes forward again, a little shyly and yet yearningly, to her invisible Krishna who stands before her. She looks into his eyes and puts the garland over his head, and then, as if he is taking it off, she puts it on herself. She is the blushing bride, and she closes her eyes as she turns her face slightly to the audience, as if she is receiving a kiss from Krishna. She smiles at him.

Mira: Come to my bower, O my lord. Come to my fragrant bower of buds and blossoms and claim me as your bride. I have been slave to your love for so many births. You are everything to me. Mira's lord is Hari, the indestructible. Come, come to me. She sings.

You came to me once
Come to me again
You held me in your arms
Hold me once again
Come, my secret lover
Speak to me again
Now, I'm yours forever
Love me till the end

You gave your love to me
Set my soul flying free
Mira tasted love supreme
Or was that just a dream?

Alone, she dances, expressing the innermost feelings of her being. We see a soul enjoying the sense of freedom and joy that comes with knowing the deepest purest love. And yet, she knows that she must see the Krishna enshrined in her heart, for her very being longs for his touch.

You gave your love to me
Set my soul flying free
Mira tasted love supreme
Or was that just a dream?

Krishna!

She looks about desperately, tears running down her cheeks. She runs to her bower and falls onto her bed of flowers, sobbing.

Mira - XI Mathura

MATHURA

A busy street in Mathura; townspeople, country folk, vendors, passersby, gopis selling milk, children running around - all brushing shoulders and avoiding near misses here and there. It is noisy. Mira enters, excited that she is finally where Krishna is! She is jostled here and there. The crowd thins out momentarily. Mira stops a man.

Mira: Good sir, have you seen Krishna?

Man, looking her up and down: Which one? [She hesitates. He grimaces and hurries away.]

There is a flux of people and Mira is jostled once again here and there. The crowd thins out and she finds herself in another part of the city. She stops a gopi carrying a pot.

Mira: Miss... miss. Do you know where Krishna is?

Gopi, insolently: I don't know any Krishna.

Mira, catching a man by his arm: Sir, please tell me where I can find Krishna.

Man, grinning: I am Krishna.

Mira shakes her head looking at him. The crowd rushes by. The man merges with the crowd. She is in the center, desperate, the crowd jostling her from all directions. She reaches out to everyone passing her.

Mira: I'm looking for Krishna... I'm looking for Krishna... Krishna is here, isn't he? Where is Krishna? [But people are too busy to notice and they think she is mad. Soon a small crowd gathers around her, watching her. A young boy and his friends come up to her cheekily.]

Boy: You're looking for Krishna? [She sees him.] I'm Krishna. [He strikes a pose and smiles at her.]

Mira, a flash of joy on her face: Krishna!

Boy, almost hysterically: Ha ha ha! [His friends join him laughing loudly, pointing their fingers at her.] She's a mad woman... ha ha ha!

They run off through the crowd. The small crowd laughs at her. She is in tears. Another stream of passersby swirls around her. She covers her face with her hands. A cowherd peers into her face and stands behind her. He begins to play a flute. Somebody begins to strike a rhythm, and gradually, people are beginning to move to this rhythm even as they are circling Mira. Mira lets her hands fall to her sides, her face with tears but her eyes closed.

What follows next is the entire Mathura folk singing and dancing like Krishna to the song Madhuraashtakam around her.

Folk: Adharam madhuram vadanam madhuram
Nayanam madhuram hasitam madhuram
Hridayam madhuram gamanam madhuram
Madhuraadhipaterakhilam madhuram

Vachanam madhuram charitam madhuram
Vasanam madhuram valitam madhuram
Chalitam madhuram bhramitam madhuram
Madhuraadhipaterakhilam madhuram

Venuradhuro renurmadhurah
Panirmadhurah paadau madhurau
Nrityam madhuram sakhyam madhuram
Madhuraadhipaterakhilam madhuram
Geetam madhuram peetam madhuram
Muktam madhuram suptam madhuram
Rupam madhuram tilakam madhuram
Madhuraadhipaterakhilam madhuram

Her eyes are closed throughout. Slowly she comes down to her knees, and then she sits. Her despair begins to give way to joy as she listens to the song. She raises her hands in joy as the song ends. The Mathura folk break out of their Krishna consciousness and once again move about as before, as if nothing had happened. The cowherd who started with the flute brushes against Mira, and she opens her eyes. He walks downstage towards the wings. She quickly gets up, wondering who it was. The cowherd turns to look at her, smiles and exits.

Mira - X Searching

SEARCHING

We are back where we began at the gypsy camp. The campfire is dying, with only some embers glowing. A few gypsies are seen leaving for their tents; Mira is alone. Having left the palace to escape the cruel persecution of the Rana, and believing that her path lies in the search for Krishna, she has withstood much in her journey. Exhausted and alone, and with the darkness surrounding her, she begins to despair; would her love for Krishna, and her rejection of the world, be all for nothing?

Mira, distraught and looking around: Krishna! [She reaches out with her hands.] You are the life of my life, O Krishna, the heart of my heart. There is none in all the three worlds whom I call my own but you. You are the peace of my mind, the joy of my heart. You are my beauty and my wealth. You are my wisdom and my strength. My friend, my kin, my home. My present and my future are in your hands. Find me. Carry me across the stormy sea. [She sings softly, pleading], Mere to giridhara gopala dusara na koyi. Mata chodi, pita chode, chode saga soyi. Dasi Mira lal giridhar honi so hoyi. [She sobs into her hands.]

While she is singing, Jayadeva comes out of the darkness and watches her. He takes out his flute and plays the last line of her song he has just heard. She looks up and he stops playing. He comes to her.

Jayadeva, smiling: Lost?

Mira: Looking...

Jayadeva: Who?

Mira, hesitating: Someone.

Jayadeva, sussing her up: A lover? [She becomes uncomfortable but is drawn by his eyes.] Where?

Mira: Mathura. [He smiles strangely at her and then gets up to go.] How far is it from here?

Jayadeva: Not far. Not far at all. [Pause.] It is late. You can start in the morning. Get some sleep. It is safe here.

As he walks away, he plays on the flute soft and low, and the lights begin to dim. Mira lies down and overcome by her exhaustion, falls asleep. The light on her changes to blue as the rest of the stage is totally dimmed out. We continue to hear the flute song as it develops into something colourful and bright. Lights come on to reveal a dream scene of lush beauty. We hear, from the distance, the voices of young boys. Enter cowherds, singing a song on Krishna.

Cowherds: Bhaje Radhe Govinda
Gopala tera pyara nama hai
Nandalala tera pyara nama hai
Mora mukuta maate tilaka gale vaijayanti mala
Prabhu gale vaijayanti mala
Koi kahe vasudevaki nandana koi kahe nanda lala
Prabhu koi kahe nanda lala

Mira wakes up, is surprised by the new surroundings, and quickly hides herself behind a bush. The cowherd boys dance and sing, beating on their makeshift drums and playing on the flute. They are joined by a few gopis. They exit, dancing and singing. A gopi, with a pot, comes running in but finds that she cannot catch up. She looks around, and appears disappointed about something. She sits down, looking here and there, expecting to see someone. She hugs her pot, then, looks at it. She turns it around and we can see that it is partly broken on the side. She caresses this broken part and begins to sing to herself:

Gopi: Madhura manohara gokula madhava mohana murali shyama.
Ananda nadam un venu gaanam enidaya veenayai meetidum nadam
Anbe vaa endru azhaitidum geetham ananda gopala geetham
Inba vedanai eethenna sodhanai idhu enna sodhanai shyama
Madhura manohara gokula madhava mohana murali shyama
Kuzhal osaiyil mayanggi alai paayum en uzham
Kuzhal oothum un vadivam kaanavum enguthey
Pasiyaal vaadhidum gopiyar kangalai kandillaieyo shyama
Pullangkuzhal isei pothum kanna
Pothum pothum shyama

She sings this song and acts out how she has lost her heart to Krishna, after having met him one day in Mathura where he broke the pot of milk she was carrying.

When she sings the refrain for the last time, Mira sings the verse with her, moved by the plea of "enough, enough of this pain in my heart" which echoes her own. While singing this, Mira stands behind the gopi and then turns back to back with the gopi. They both move, with the gopi now facing upstage and Mira facing downstage. The gopi leaves as Mira sings the last line by herself, revealing the intensity of her desire to see Krishna

Mira: Madhura manohara gokula madhava mohana murali shyama.

The lights dim out, leaving the blue spot on Mira, as she slowly lies down. At the end of her song, she closes her eyes.

Mira - IX Miracle

MIRACLE

In this scene, the test of Mira's faith is presented totally in dance and mime. The music is dramatic and sinister. Two guards bring in a dirty looking snake man with a basket. The Rana and Udabhai sweep in, with two ladies-in-waiting in tow. The snake man bows obsequiously to the Rana, and quickly fishes out a wriggling black snake from his basket. The women recoil. Udabhai signals to one of her ladies to bring forward a colourful flower basket. This is placed on the ground in the center. The girl moves away quickly. The snakeman puts the black snake in the basket and quickly covers it tight, carries it with both hands, and presents it to the Rana. One of the ladies nervously takes it from him. But the Rana is frowning. He signals to the guards. They bring the snake man's basket to the center; its owner is happy. The Rana mimes to the snake man, pointing to the basket; "will it work?" The snake man grins and gestures "definitely". "Show me another one" the Rana gestures. The snake man concedes, opens his basket and puts his hand in. The Rana signals to his guards. They pounce on the snake man, one holding him down, and the other preventing him from removing his hand from the basket. There is a look of frantic panic, and then, he screams in pain and thrashes about. He is released but he falls to the ground. A few more spasms contort his body and he is limp. The Rana nods, and then signals his guards to remove the corpse. The corpse is dragged out and the basket removed. The Rana holds the flower basket for a moment and gives it back to the lady.

An old and fat lady, a potion maker, enters with two palace ladies. She is colourfully dressed, carrying a small velvet pouch. She sees the Rana and bows. She takes out a long-necked bottle and smiles wickedly at the Rana. The Rana takes it, pretends to examine it. He gives a signal - a maid enters with a goblet on a tray. Udabhai goes to the fat lady and makes much ado about her person. With alacrity, the Rana pours something from the bottle into the goblet, unseen by the potion maker. He then pulls out a small pouch of money from his waist band and puts it on the tray next to the goblet. The maid goes to the fat lady. Udabhai smiles, the fat lady's eyes widen, seeing the moneybag on the tray. She grabs it off the tray, peeps into it, gasps, there's a big grin on her face, and then she looks at the Rana sheepishly. The Rana gestures smilingly to the goblet. The potion-maker happily picks it up and sips it, then downs it. The effect is immediate; there is a look of horror on her face, her hands go to her throat, her face turns red and she opens her mouth to gasp for breath - she dies. The Rana holds up the bottle of poison and smiles. Udabhai steps over the corpse and stands next to the Rana. The guards come in and remove the corpse of the fat lady.

Udabhai looks into the wings and claps her hands. The guards bring in a chaise-lounge and place it in the center. It is a beautiful piece of work, decorated with ivory and gemstones. The Rana admires it. Udabhai removes the mattress to reveal up-pointing sharp nails. The Rana smiles. They all exit as the light changes.

The music becomes lighter as Mira enters. The melody is a refrain from one of her songs. Two ladies dance in, bringing in a life-size statue of Krishna. Mira dances in front of her idol. Her maids do a short sequence and they leave. Enter from the opposite two other ladies with the flower basket. They are followed by Rana and Udabhai who remain upstage in the half darkness, watching. The ladies dance towards Mira. They mime that it is a garland for her Krishna from the Rana. Mira is pleased. The tone and rhythm of the music change. The basket is placed at Krishna's feet - and the ladies watch nervously as Mira picks it up and dances with it in front of Krishna. Then she kneels and begins to open the basket. The two ladies move back two steps in fear. The Rana and Udabhai move two steps forward eagerly to witness the outcome. Mira opens the basket, and brings out a beautiful garland of roses and tulsi leaves. The others are shocked. We hear Mira's voice singing a refrain from the song, praising Krishna, as she lovingly puts the garland on Krishna. She dances.

The Rana and Udabhai step forward into the light. He takes out the bottle of poison. Udabhai looks into the wings; a maid enters carrying a tray with a small pot and other articles for a puja, and hands it to Udabhai. Udabhai dances with it in front of the Rana, and then holds the tray up; he empties the contents of the bottle into this small pot. Udabhai turns to look at Mira, who is sitting gazing at Krishna. The Rana watches from upstage. As Udabhai comes towards Mira, her expression changes gradually with each step; from a stern and harsh stare to a softened smile. She touches Mira who turns around. Udabhai dances happily holding the tray, miming that she has brought prasad for Krishna. Mira is moved, takes the tray and begins to dance for Krishna making the offering to him. Udabhai partners her in a short duet that suggests a puja. They end up kneeling in front of Krishna. Mira closes her eyes. Seeing this, Udabhai gets up quietly and moves away from Mira, back to the side of the Rana. Mira opens her eyes, gazes at Krishna and smiles. She picks up the pot of prasad, looks at it for a moment and smiles lovingly again at Krishna. She drinks from it. The Rana and Udabhai come forward two steps and wait with bated breath for the poison to take effect. Mira closes her eyes for having received the prasad. The music changes and an intense blue light comes on to Krishna. Mira is filled with wonderment. Then she lets out a gasp - she realizes that the prasad was poisoned. She holds her throat, looks with horror at Krishna, tears flowing from her eyes to know that Krishna has taken the poison for her. She hugs Krishna and weeps. The blue vanishes and she is delighted. The poison did not affect her nor did it have any lasting effect on her darling Krishna. She dances around Krishna and we hear the refrain of her song.

The Rana and Udabhai are shocked but their evil anger overpowers them. They rush forward to confront Mira and to see for themselves the incredible "trick" by Krishna. Mira must be a witch. Mira turns round in fear. The Rana and Udabhai grab Mira. Her eyes plead silently for mercy but they are intent on getting rid of her. The three of them dance; Mira tries to free herself from the clutches of her in-laws. By their looks she knows that they intend to harm her. She begs for mercy. During this sequence, two guards bring in the chaise lounge. The guards come forward. The Rana and Udabhai hurl her into their arms, and then, they stand on either side of Krishna. The guards drag Mira back wards towards the lethal chaise lounge. She cries out to Krishna. They throw her onto the chair. Mira sings her refrain. She gets up unhurt. The others are stupefied. She runs to Krishna as the Rana and Udabhai run towards the chair. Mira looks up at Krishna crying at his feet. The Rana removes the cover of the chair - rose petals fly into the air. Music changes, becomes more dramatic. There is a black out. Two spots come on - we see the Rana "caught" in one and Udabhai in the other. They move as if they are being watched. A third spot comes on slowly and we see Krishna's statue but now in a different place. They look at it, uncomprehending. Music continues. Black out. Two spots come on again and we see the Rana and Udabhai, once again, caught. Krishna is revealed once again, in another part of the stage. And the two cower in fear in their "prisons". The music reaches a crescendo and there is a black out in the sharp silence. Then soft music, and Mira's sweet voice fills the air. Centerspot fades up to reveal Mira at Krishna's feet.

Mira: Paga gungaru bandha mira nachire
Nachire mira nachire mira nachire
Mein to mere narayana ki
Apaki ho gayi dasi re... paga gungaru bandha mira nachire
Vishaka pyala rana ji ne bheja
Pivata mira hasi re... paga gungaru bandha mira nachire
Mira ke prabhu giridhara nagara
Sahaja mile avinashi re... paga gungaru bandha mira nachire

.

Mira - VIII Krodha

KRODHA

In the dark, we hear the dying refrain of Mira's song in the distance, and as it fades, a sharp spot comes on to reveal the Rana Vikramaditya. Standing next to him is a middle-aged courtier who has just finished mumbling something into the Rana's ear. He glares at the offending messenger, who quickly lowers his eyes and withdraws. By himself, the Rana fumes. Enter Udabhai and her ladies. She waves her companions out, and approaches the Rana who has his back to the audience. She stands close to him in the spotlight, glares into the wings as the song fades, and looks up at him.

Udabhai: I really don't know how long more we can take this. She is utterly shameless! It is not enough that she is showing off and prancing about with the dirty beggars who come because she is given out free food - our food - but she has to invite this dirty, smelling cobbler to sit with her. She even smelled his feet! [She shudders.] She really has no shame, displaying herself like that in public. [The Rana listens to this in resolute silent burning anger.] Really, whatever shreds of honour we have left after Bhojraj died more than ten years ago must now be trampled into the dust!

Rana, quietly: Honour!

Udabhai: I just cannot understand why after so many years she just won't fit in.

Rana: She is not of our blood. [Udabhai looks at him.] We've given her too much face. My father spoilt her, giving in to her whims and fancies the moment she arrived. And Bhojraj, my stupid brother, made it worse - blinded by his love for this woman.

Udabhai: Yes. I remember how he allowed her to prepare the Devi Puja prasad the wrong way... [Tears are in her eyes.] And he lost his life in that battle...

Rana: I was too young to do anything then but now, I have tolerated enough... our family honour went to the dogs because of her...

Udabhai: And at his funeral, she refused to join him in the fire, to give him that lasting honour...

Rana: Her madness is sure to bring ruin to our kingdom...

Udabhai: Enough is enough. She will never fit in because she doesn't want to fit in.

Rana, in a harsh whisper: It has been rumoured that our enemy, Akbar, stole into our palace in disguise just to hear her sing... and she spoke to him... [Udabhai looks at him in surprise.] We will now become laughing matter in his court. Soon, we'll be the laughing stock of the whole of Rajasthan.

Udabhai: What can we do? She has never listened to any of our requests, pleas or commands.

Rana, after a pause: She won't have to listen any more. [Udabhai looks at him questioningly. He looks at her intensely.] She must not live. [Udabhai's eyes open wide.] She has only brought misfortune to us. I never did like her but now I know that she is actually the enemy within. For all our sakes, she must not live.

Udabhai: How?

Rana: We will make use of her madness. Her so called devotion to Krishna.

Mira - VII Satsangh

SATSANGH

Just outside the ramparts of the royal fort. A congregation of devotees, a motley crowd of poor and not so poor, crosses the stage from left to right. They are singing one of Mira's bhajans dedicated to Krishna. As they exit upstage right, the clip clop of horse hooves and horses breathing. Enter downstage left, in half darkness two noblemen with their servants. They begin to shroud themselves with orange robes, concealing their rich attire.

Akbar: My dear Tansen, I hope our adventure into Mewar just to hear Mira sing will be truly worthwhile.

Tansen: Indeed, my emperor, I know it must be. The fame of her heavenly singing has come so often to my ears, I can no longer resist the urge to hear her sing.

Akbar: Well, I too am moved by your words. If Tansen whom music lovers everywhere regard as the voice of the gods, can be moved by just hearing about such a person, there must be a sublime experience waiting for us. But my heart trembles not a little at both the prospects of losing our lives in enemy territory and of hearing this nightingale.

Tansen: If we are careful, my emperor, our disguise as holy men in saffron robes will keep us safe. It is reported by our scouts that Mira opens her shrine to all, allowing a congregation of worshippers to offer their songs to her Krishna. I am sure we can safely mingle with those who are gathered there without being noticed.

Their dressing is done except for Akbar's jeweled turban. He looks at Tansen for approval, and Tansen cocks one eyebrow in the direction of the royal turban. Akbar quickly removes it and hands it to one of his men. Tansen nods with a smile. We hear the distant song of the congregation fading in as they enter downstage right. The worshippers seem to be excited about the forthcoming event. As they pass center stage, Akbar and Tansen quickly merge with the moving crowd and the congregation is well on its way as it exits upstage left.

The light changes as their voices fade down but not completely out. Downstage right, a Krishna idol is pushed in and placed facing upstage left on the diagonal. Two stand lamps are brought in simultaneously and these are lit. A soft spotlight is on the idol. Handmaidens scurry about setting the place for the puja. The voices of the congregation fade up as they enter, once again, upstage left. They repeat the last line of the song highlighting Mira's signature, continuously but softly, and begin to settle down. The congregation occupies in a crescent the upper left area of the stage, but spilling onto upstage right and downstage left. The center is left empty. Akbar and Tansen find themselves settling downstage left, close to the audience. Some are chatting softly, others are gazing at Krishna while a small group continues with the song. A few men, seated near Akbar and Tansen begin to chat excitedly.

Man #1: My friend, you have told me so much about Mira. Why is she not here?

Man #2: Surely you can wait a little, my friend. Though of royal birth, she has never kept us waiting past the appointed time of the puja...

Man #3: She has never kept Krishna waiting. You will see that for yourself when she comes...

Man #2: Listen to me, my friend, to be with Mira is to be with Krishna. I have seen it myself; she has the power to show Krishna to us...

Man #1: She can do that!

Man #2: Mark my words. But friend, be careful; this is not a spectacle or a circus but a miracle of the heart. It is an experience given only to a few. Are you ready for it?

Man #3: Look, here she comes...

There is a sudden hush as Mira, now dressed in white, enters with a garland and a tray of bhog. At Krishna's feet, she places the tray and lovingly puts the garland on Krishna. She turns to the congregation and smiles gently at them and then moves to centrestage to sit among the devotees. A maid hands her the tanpura, and she begins to strum it. Upstage right, three ladies dressed richly enter. The first is Uda Bhai, Mira's sister-in-law. She gestures contemptuously to her companions about Mira sitting in such close proximity with the filthy poor. She glares angrily at Mira's back. Mira, unaware of this bit of effect on her sister-in-law, begins to hum, the beginning of a song. Downstage left, Ravidass enters with a beatific smile on his face. Mira is immediately aware of his presence and gets up to receive him.

Mira: Guruji! [There is a bit of excitement among the devotees as Mira brings Ravidas to the center and helps him to sit down. Uda Bhai and her companions are even more shocked. Mira touches his feet reverently.] You bless us with your holy presence.

Ravidas: I have come to receive darshan of Krishna. You will show him to us.

He smiles at her, and nods knowingly. He then picks up the tanpura, all the time looking at Mira, and begins to strum it. Mira closes her eyes and hums - her song begins.

Mira: Mere to giridhara gopala dusara na koyi
Mata chodi, pita chode, chode saga soyi
Sadha sang baith baithlok laj khoyi
Santh dekh dowdi aayi
Jagat dekh royi
Prem aasu dar dar amar bel boyi
Marag me taran mile santh nam doyi
Santh sada sees par nam hridou hoyi
Ab tho bath phail gayi janou sab koyi
Dasi Mira lal giridhar honi so hoyi

["I have no one but Giridhar Gopal. I gave up my mother. I gave up my father, and gave up all my kith and kin. I gave up my shyness in the company of sages. I ran eagerly seeking the saints but the ways and manners of the world came in the way. Then I shed tears. Those tears have kept the creeper of love alive. Saints and the holy name of Sri Krishna were the guiding lights I found along my path. Sri Krishna from within and the saints from without have illumined my path. My Lord, this slave Mira is yours. And you are the goal she wishes to reach. Let people gossip as they please. What does it matter?"]

The congregation is immersed in a wave of devotion - each inspired by Mira's song to "reach out" to Krishna. Ravidas is still, with eyes closed, but tears run down his cheeks. As Mira sings, she performs abhinaya. Tansen and Akbar are moved beyond words, and forgetting himself, Tansen joins Mira on the refrain of the first line "mere to giridhara gopala" embellishing it many times, and Mira dances intoxicatingly to this. Tansen has found once again the divine core of his being and his artistry - and Mira's pure devotion and love for Krishna has shown it to him. The song comes to an end, and there is a moment when Mira and Tansen are gazing at each other, each recognizing the love for God in the other, but nothing is spoken. The enraptured congregation watches in silence. Udabhai and her ladies, however, have seen enough. They leave in a huff.

Tansen: Forgive me, saintly one, for intruding upon your puja. I forgot myself. Please accept my humble apologies.

Mira: Surely the apologies must come from me for my lack of courtesy shown to two very honoured guests. [Her intuition tells her that these are none other than Akbar and Tansen.] What a privilege to have the voice of heaven sing for Krishna!

Tansen: O, lady of purity, please say not so. I am only a humble musician, blessed by God to sing for my supper. [At this, Akbar arches his eyebrows, and Tansen is at a loss for words.]

Mira: Yours is a god-given gift indeed. But why sing for a man who will only give you your supper when you can sing for God and receive his divine treasure?

Tansen: The spirit is willing... ah... but the flesh is weak. [Akbar now glares at Tansen, who can only shrug his shoulders. Mira contemplates this for a moment.]

Mira, quietly: I am happy you have come. My Krishna is pleased.

Akbar: Pray, take this as a gift for the gift of your voice. [Gives Mira the pearl necklace he has been wearing.]

Mira, with a smile: Buying a song again? [Akbar is momentarily stunned, but regaining his composure quickly, he smiles at her.]

Akbar: Please do not misunderstand. It is my humble offering to your Lord Krishna for having such a devotee as you. [Mira holds the pearl necklace, looking at it.]

Mira: Pearls, gold, diamonds and rubies. Pomp and power. Fame and honour. What are these but sinking ships in an ocean of ills? [She looks at Krishna.] God is mysterious. He causes fools to be rulers and learned men to go about begging for food. [Ravidas smiles and nods to himself. Mira takes the necklace to Krishna, and with tears in her eyes, puts it around his neck. She sings, as if her heart is breaking,] Mere to giridhara gopala dusara na koyi... my lord, this slave Mira is yours, and you are her only goal. [She falls at the feet of Krishna.]

Mira - VI War

WAR

In the darkness, the blare of a trumpet, and the incessant beat of drums herald a clash of armed forces. We hear the sound of elephants and horses, arrows whizzing through the air, and the clashing of sharp steel; the shouts and roar of soldiers engaged in bloodshed and death. And above the din, a hoarse voice coming from the distance, "Jey Rajasthan... Jey Rajasthan... Jey Rajasthan..." but as he comes closer, there is a sharp whoosh and a thud; a groan and he is stopped dead in his tracks. The music rises as the battle cry is magnified many times. The sounds of the battle diminish quickly, as the music rushes towards a dramatic opening of the scene, and we hear urgent voices: "Quick, hurry, hurry, this way. Bring him here..."

Lights come on to reveal four or five soldiers, war torn, putting Bhojraj on the ground. The captain of the troop stuffs a rag into Bhojraj's shirt to stem a bleeding wound. The looks on their faces tell us that the prince is mortally wounded. There is deep tension. Will the battle come to an end?

The music picks up all of a sudden; and Mira comes running in and the soldiers make way for her as she kneels near Bhojraj. He opens his eyes to look at her, takes in a breath as if to say something but... Mira looks at him, sobs and holds him close to her and weeps. The captain gently extricates Mira from the corpse. Mira stands aside staring at them and then up into the light, as if looking for an answer. The soldiers pick up Bhojraj as in a funeral, three on each side holding his stiff body, and each turn towards Mira. The captain gestures to her, and she slowly turns. It has become a funeral procession, with Mira following the captain in front and the bearers behind her. The music is slow and solemn, but beautiful, and the procession marches elegantly upstage. Midway, the last two bearers holding Bhojraj's legs get down smoothly to their haunches and Bhojraj is released from the bearers. He comes towards us, now Jayadeva with the smile, as the funeral procession continues upstage into the darkness. Jayadeva begins to remove his bloodstained jacket...

Jayadeva: I told you it was a short part... short and sweet. Most of us don't realize that life, as we know it, is fraught with unexpected events and circumstances beyond our control. But being only human, we delude ourselves thinking that we can last forever. We live our lives not giving Death a single thought until one day he stands right in front of us, with that smile of his, welcoming us with a subtle nod as if we are about to enter the hottest restaurant in town. He knows that we cannot turn back, and even as the moment of truth dawns upon us, we are already sucked into darkness. Well, life is short. No matter how long you have lived, life is short when you have not given your soul a chance to speak; when you allow your mind and your senses to tell you that there is only this, and nothing else.

For Mira, the death of her husband, whom she had begun to love, awoke in her the same awareness of that same mysterious truth she first felt when her mother died. This was yet another awakening; a reminder that life is very soon followed by death, and joy can only give way to sorrow. And Mira would turn more and more into the cave of her heart in search of answers. Unlike most of us, she knew that there was one person whom she loved who could give her the answers, and who would never die - Krishna! But then, more was in store for Mira. Her husband's brother, the Rana Vikramaditya, who always thought Mira headstrong and uncaring of their family's name, had ascended the throne. Now as the Rana, it irked him even more to note that his brother's widow continued to behave as before, to receive all and sundry into the palace, the dirty and dust-covered poor, to join her as she shamelessly displayed herself and her voice.

BLACK OUT - in the darkness we hear singing in the distance.

Mira - V Kalima

KALIMA

A festival dedicated to the Goddess Kali is being prepared in the palace. We see different activities of puja, ritual, decoration and food preparation. Priests, cooks, servants and maids enter and exit in a flurry of activity. A group of ladies, all with big red bindus on their foreheads and carrying trays of gifts as offerings to the Goddess, enter excitedly. They dance to a rhythmic version of the song Kali Maheshwari, and some of them appear to get into a trance. It is a vibrant dance and has the power to mesmerize those who are watching. This sets the tone of how the festival is celebrated in the palace.

Ladies and others:
Kali Maheshwari Parvati Shankari
Sharanam Sharanam Sharanam Ma...

Halfway through the song, a flute soars above the rhythm of the drums, and Mira enters, singing. Hers is a song of personal sadness and yearning, totally in contrast to the song and dance she has unknowingly intruded upon. The others are discomfited..

Mira: Ah! Painfully mad with love am I
But who will hear my sighs
Only those lost in love
Will know what it is to love
In pain I go from door to door
In vain I search for the doctor
Says Mira: Listen, O master
Mira's pain will disappear
When her lover Shyam appears!

As Mira sings, oblivious to the fact that she has intruded, the ladies withdraw in confusion. Udabhai, the sister-in-law enters and is irritated with Mira's insensitivity; it is after all the festival of the Goddess, in honour of their family deity. She picks up a pot and hits it hard to regain the rhythm of the Kali song the ladies were singing. With this cue, the ladies resume their song, bringing out the ferocious aspect of the goddess and ending with them forming a circle around Udabhai who has taken a pose as the Goddess herself. Mira, on the other hand, not really aware that she has spoilt their song and dance somewhat watches all this with amusement and fascination. When Udabhai takes on the pose of the goddess at the end, Mira becomes slightly withdrawn.

Udabhai: Mira, did you not know that it is Devi Puja today? Mira is silent. Are you not helping us with the preparations? As a devoted wife, you should be busy making these preparations in honour of the goddess Chandi so that your husband, my brother, will gain victory in battle.

Mira: I am always saying prayers to my beloved lord.

Udabhai, missing Mira's meaning: Well, that's not really enough. The goddess must be appeased with sacrifice.

Mira: Don't ask me to slaughter any animals. I don't believe in shedding blood!

Udabhai, coldly: You don't have to do that. As the daughter-in-law, you just have to prepare the prasad.

Mira: I can't. I won't. I will not cook any meat as an offering.

Udabhai: Are you mad? Or are you stupid? For hundreds of years, we've been offering prasad this way to Kali Ma to gain her blessings and her protection, to ensure that our family honour and power will increase. Now you just come here with your silly romantic dreams about Krishna and give no thought to performing the duties expected of you. If you don't do as you are told you will stir the anger of Kali Ma. If ill fortune befalls any of us, it is your fault!

Bhojraj, entering with his uncle and seeing Mira in tears, goes to her: What's the matter, Udabhai? What's happened?

Udabhai: Ask her yourself.

Mira: I know that it is my duty to prepare the prasad for the puja but I will not cook any meat and make it an offering. [Bhojraj hesitates and Mira looks at him searchingly.] Please don't force me.

Bhojraj: Well then. Do whatever your heart desires. [There is a gasp from Udabhai.] I am sure whatever is performed with love will be accepted. If not, I will make a special sacrifice to Kali Ma myself. [Mira smiles at him but Udabhai, moving towards her uncle is definitely not happy.]

Mira - IV Chappal

CHAPPAL

In the darkness, sounds of a busy street; as light fades in we can see that different percussion instruments are highlighting different characters and their occupation; there is much banter and noise. In the middle of all this, Raidas the cobbler enters, peddling his cobbling skills...his song is vigorous and witty and his singing is unique to say the least. The other peddlers join him in his song.

Chorus:
Thaka dhim thaka dhim thaka dhim dhim ta
Jhum jhum jhum jhum jhenu dhim dhim ta

Raidas: Far to go, but your sole's worn out
Come to Raidas and sit it out (add bols)
Put up your feet, give me those chappals
Close your eyes, and you're in a chapel (add bols)
Mend your soul, there's nothing better
(If you've far to go) than to come to the cobbler (add bols)

Chorus, taking up with the bols and pointing to their wares:
Thaka dhim thaka dhim thaka dhim dhim ta
Jhum jhum jhum jhum jhenu dhim dhim ta

Far to go, your feet are worn out
Come right here and sit it out
What's your hurry, so what if it's late
You need a break, the world can wait

Thaka dhim thaka dhim thaka dhim dhim ta
Jhum jhum jhum jhum jhenu dhim dhim ta

Rest your feet, your soul's worn out
Sit right down and rest it out
You shouldn't hurry, you wont be late
You need a break...
Chappati? Bel poori? Hot chaaya?

Thaka dhim thaka dhim thaka dhim dhim ta
Jhum jhum jhum jhum jhenu dhim dhim ta

Sit down sit it out heaven's in a moment
It's in my chappati... It's in my spicy chutney
It's in my bel poori... It's in my pakora and chaaya...
Heaven's here and the world can wait!

Thaka dhim thaka dhim thaka dhim dhim ta
Jhum jhum jhum jhum jhenu dhim dhim ta

The chorus disperses variously as light changes to show that Raidas has entered his little hovel. Lights dim out into a spot on him. He sings the song to himself as the music fades down. He busies himself with the tools in his bag, begins to mend his own chappal.

Raidas: Far to go, but your sole's worn out
Come to Raidas and sit it out (add bols)
Put up your feet, give me those chappals
Close your eyes, and you're in a chapel (add bols)
Mend your soul, there's nothing better....

There is a soft knock on the door, and there is a tentative squeak as it is being pushed a little way. Raidas' back is to the door. He looks up, an expression of recognition and then a gentle smile.

Raidas: Come in my dear, I've been waiting for you...

Mira enters, pauses... there is a look of confusion and hesitation on her face, and then she rushes to his feet.

Mira: O master....

Raidas, gently raising her face to him: Krishna's games are always full of mischief. He steals your heart and then he plays hide and seek with you... I should know... [He looks into her eyes deeply.] But he will let Mira find him. Come... [He gently lifts her veil to cover her face and head.] A new journey is ahead of you. [Spontaneously, Mira crosses her legs in the lotus position, straightens her back and closes her eyes as Raidas stands behind her and begins to intone the Ram Nam softly. The spotlight sharpens on them.] Ram Ram Ram Ram Ram Ram Ram Ram...

When he has finished, Raidas steps into the darkness and disappears. Mira, alone, begins to sing... and she does so, she reveals the indescribable, heart bursting joy that she feels, drinking from the divine cup.

Mira:
pâyo jî, maim to nâma ratna dhana pâyo
bastu amolaka dî mere satguru, kirpâ kari apanâyo
janma janma kî puñjî pâî, jaga mem sabai khovâyo
kharcai nahim koî, cora na levai, dina dina baRhata savâyo
sat kî nâva khevaTiyâ satguru, bhavasâgara tara âyo
mîrâ ke prabhu giridhara nâgara, harkha harkha jasa gâyo

"I have found, yes, I have found the wealth of the Divine Name's gem.
My true guru gave me a priceless thing. With his grace, I accepted it.
I found the capital of my several births; I have lost the rest of the world.
No one can spend it, no one can steal it. Day by day it increases one and a quarter times.
On the boat of truth, the boatman was my true guru. I came across the ocean of existence.
Mira's Lord is the Mountain-Holder, the suave lover, of whom I merrily, merrily sing."

As the light fades to black, we see a Mira with a deep sense of knowledge and conviction.