SRI AUROBINDO
Collected Plays and Short Stories
Part Two
Ibn Sawy's House.
A room in the outer apartments decorated for a banquet.
Doonya, Anice-Aljalice, Balkis.
Lord, how they pillage! Even the furniture
Cannot escape these Djinns. Ogre Ghaneem
Picks up that costly chain between his teeth
And off to his castle; devil Ayoob drops
That table of mosaic in his pocket;
Zeb sweeps off rugs and couches in a whirlwind.
What purse will long put up with such ill-treatment?
It must be checked.
'Tis much that he has kept
His promise to my uncle. Oh, he's sound!
These villains spoil him. Anice, you are to blame.
However you complain, yourself are quite
As reckless.
I?
Unnecessary jewel you have seen
And have not bought? a dress that took your fancy
And was not in a moment yours?
Or have you lost
A tiny chance of laughter, song and wine,
Since you were with him?
A few rings and chains,
Some silks and cottons I have bought at times.
What did these trifles cost?
I do not know.
Of course you do not. Come, it's gone too far;
Restrain him, curb yourself.
Next time he calls you
To sing among his wild companions, send
Cold answers, do not go.
To break the jest,
The flow of good companionship, drive out
Sweet friendly looks with anger, be a kill-joy
And frowner in this bright and merry world!
Oh, all the sins that human brows grow wrinkled
With frowning at, could never equal this!
But if the skies grew darker?
If they should!
It was a bright and merry world. To see him
Happy and gay and kind was all I cared for,
There my horizon stopped. But if the skies
Did darken! Doonya, it shall cease today.
Madam, half the creditors,
And that means half the shops in Bassora,
Hold session in the outer hall and swear
It shall be permanent till they get money.
Where is your master? Call him here. A moment!
All of them, long as pillars
And crammed from head to foot with monstrous sums.
Call him.
He's here.
Did you steal down to see the decorations?
Like a painted tombstone
Sculptured and arabesqued, but death's inside
And bones, my brother, bones.
And there are bones
In this fair pleasing outside called dear Doonya,
But let us only think of rosy cheeks,
Sweet eyes and laughing lips and not the bones.
You have boned my metaphor and quite disboned it,
Until there's nothing firm inside; 'tis pulpy.
The creditors besiege you, Nureddene;
You'll pay them.
Serious, Anice?
Till you do,
I will not smile again. Azeem, the bills!
Is this your doing, Doonya?
Yours, cousin, yours.
I've told you.
Show me the bills.
Ah, he is grieved and angry!
His eyes are clouded; let me speak to him.
Now you'll spoil all; drag her off, Doonya.
Come.
Exit drawing away Anice, Balkis behind.
Well, sir, where are these bills?
You will see the bills?
The sums, the sums!
To tailor Mardouc twenty-four thousand pieces, namely for caftans, robes, shawls, turbans, Damascus silks, —
Leave the inventory.
To tailor Labkan another twenty thousand; to the baker two thousand; to the confectioner as much; to the Bagdad curiomerchant twenty-four thousand; to the same from Ispahan, sixteen thousand; to the jeweller on account of necklaces, bracelets, waist-ornaments, anklets, rings, pendents and all manner of trinkets for the slave-girl Anice-Aljalice, ninety thousand only; to the upholsterer —
Hold, hold! why, what are all these monstrous sums?
Hast thou no word but thousands in thy belly,
Exorbitant fellow?
Why, sir, 'tis in the bills; my belly's empty enough.
Nothing but thousands!
Here's one for seven hundred, twelve dirhams and some odd fractions from Husayn cook.
The sordid, dingy rogue! Will he dun me so brutally for a base seven hundred?
The fruiterer —
Away! bring bags.
Bags, sir?
Of money, fool. Call Harkoos and all the slaves. Bring half my treasury.
She frown on me! look cold! for sums, for debts!
For money, the poor paltry stuff we dig
By shovels from base mire. Grows love so beggarly
That it must think of piastres? O my heart!
Enter Azeem, Harkoos and slaves
with bags of money.
Heap them about the room — Go, Azeem, call
That hungry pack; they shall be fed.
Open two bags there. Have you broken the seals?
Enter Azeem ushering in the creditors.
I, sir, seven hundred denars, twelve dirhams and three fourths of a dirham, that is my amount.
Take thy amount, thou dingy-hearted rogue.
Sir, this is not a hundredth part of your debt to me.
Give him two hundred bags.
Bags, sir?
Do you grin, rogue, and loiter? Take that!
Exactly. Your peg's loose, beat Harkoos. Old master or young, 'tis all one to Harkoos. Stick or leather! cuff or kick! these are all the houses of my horoscope.
I am sorry I struck thee; there's gold. Give them all the money; all, I say. Porter that home, you rascals, and count your sums. What's over, cram your throats with it; or, if you will, throw it in the gutter.
Creditors (scrambling and quarrelling for the bags)
That's mine! that's mine! no, mine! Leave go, you robber.
Whom do you call robber, thief?
Cudgel them from the room.
Exeunt creditors snatching bags
and pursued by the slaves.
'Tis madness, sir.
Nureddene motions him away. Exit Azeem.
If she were clothed in rags
And beggary her price, I'd follow her
From here to China. She to frown on me
For money!
Nureddene, what have you done?
You bade me pay the fellows: I have paid them.
You are angry with me? I did not think you could
Be angry with me for so slight a cause.
I did not think that you could frown on me
For money, for a matter of money!
You
Believe that? Is it so you know me? Dear,
While for my sake you ruined yourself, must I
Look smiling on? Nay, ruin then yourself
And try me.
Dear Anice, it was with myself
I was angry, but the coward in me turned
On you to avenge its pain. Let me forget
All else and only think of you and love.
Shall I sing to you?
Do, Anice.
There's a song —
Love keep terms with tears and sorrow?
Say good night.
Love is gone ere grief can find him;
But his way
Tears that falling lag behind him
Still betray.
I cannot sing.
What worst calamity do they portend
For him who caused them?
None, none, or only showers
The sunlight soon o'ertakes. Away with grief!
What is it after all but money lost?
Beggars are happier, are they not, my lord?
Much happier, Anice.
Let us be beggars, then.
Oh, we shall wander blissfully about
In careless rags. And I shall take my lute
And buy you honey-crusts with my sweet voice.
For is not my voice sweet, my master?
Sweet
As Gabriel's when he sings before the Lord
And Heaven listens.
We shall reach Bagdad
Some day and meet the Caliph in the streets,
The mighty Caliph Haroun al Rasheed,
Disguised, a beggar too, give him our crusts
And find ourselves all suddenly the friends
Of the world's master. Shall we not, my lord?
Anice, we shall.
Let us be beggars then,
Rich, happy paupers singing through the world.
Oh, but you have a father and a mother!
Come, sit down there and I will stand before you
And tell a story.
Sit by me and tell it.
No, no, I'll stand.
I have forgotten it. It was about
A man who had a gem earth could not buy.
As I have you.
With ordinary jewels which he took
Each day and threw into the street, and said,
“I'll show this earth that all the gems it has,
Together match not this I'll solely keep.”
As I'll keep you.
Ah, but he did not know
What slender thread bound to a common pearl
That wonder. When he threw that out, alas!
His jewel followed, and though he sought earth through,
He never could again get back his gem.
Tomorrow I will stop this empty life,
Cut down expense and only live for you.
Tonight there is the banquet. It must stand,
Is in the treasury? What debts outstand?
More now than you can meet. But for today's folly, all would have been well, — your lordly folly! Oh, beat me! I must speak.
Realize all the estate, the house only excepted; satisfy the creditors. For what's left, entreat delay.
They will not be entreated. They have smelt the carrion and are all winging up, beak outstretched and talons ready.
Carrion indeed and vile! Wherefore gave God
Reason to his best creatures, if they suffer
The rebel blood to o'ercrow that tranquil, wise
And perfect minister? Do what thou canst.
I have good friends to help me in my need.
Good friends? good bloodsuckers, good thieves! Much help his need will have out of them!
There's always Ajebe.
Will you trust him? He is the Vizier's nephew.
The same.
Anice-Aljalice, Nureddene.
And they all left?
Cafoor crept down and heard
The clamorous creditors; and they all left.
Ghaneem's dear mother's sick; for my sweet love
Only he came, leaving her sad bedside;
Friend Ayoob's uncle leaves today for Mecca:
In Cafoor's house there is a burial toward;
Zeb's father, Omar's brother, Hussan's wife
Are piteously struck down. There never was
So sudden an epidemic witnessed yet
In Bassora, and all with various ailments.
This is their friendship!
We will not judge so harshly.
It may be that a generous kindly shame
Or half-remorseful delicacy had pricked them.
I've sent Harkoos to each of them in turn
For loans to help me. We shall see. Who's here?
Ajebe, you have come back, you only? Yes,
You were my friend and checked me always. Man
Is not ignoble, but has angel soarings,
Howe'er the nether devil plucks him down.
Still we have souls nor is the mould quite broken
Of that original and faultless plan
Which Adam spoilt.
I am your ruin's author.
If you have still a sword, use it upon me.
What's this?
Incited by the Vizier, promised
Greatness, I in my turn incited these
To hurry you to ruin. Will you slay me?
Return and tell the Vizier that work's done.
Are you entirely ruined?
Doubt not your work's well done; you can assure
The uncle. Came you back for that?
If all I have, —
No more! return alive.
You punish home.
The eunuch lingers.
I went first to Ayoob. He has had losses, very suddenly, and is dolorous that he cannot help you.
Ghaneem?
Has broken his leg for the present and cannot see anyone for a long fortnight.
Cafoor?
Has gone into the country — upstairs.
Zeb?
Wept sobbingly. Every time I mentioned money, he drowned the subject in tears. I might have reached his purse at last but I cannot swim.
Omar?
Will burn his books sooner than lend you money.
Did all fail me?
Some had dry eyes and some wet, but none a purse.
Go.
What next? Shall I, like him of Athens, change
And hate my kind? Then should I hate myself,
Who ne'er had known their faults, if my own sins
Pursued me not like most unnatural hounds
Into their screened and evil parts of nature.
God made them; what He made, is doubtless good.
You still have me.
That's much.
No, everything.
'Tis true, and I shall feel it soon.
My jewels
And dresses will fill up quite half the void.
Shall I take back my gifts?
If they are mine,
I choose to sell them.
Do it, I forgot;
Let Cafoor have the vase I promised him.
Come, Anice. I will ask Murad for help.
A room in Ajebe's house.
Balkis, Mymoona.
Did he not ask after me? I'm sick, Mymoona.
Sick? I think both of you are dying of a galloping consumption. Such colour in the cheeks was never a good symptom.
Tell him I am very, very ill, tell him I am dying. Pray be pathetic.
Put saffron on your cheeks and look nicely yellow; he will melt.
I think my heart will break.
Let it do so quickly; it will mend the sooner.
How can you be so harsh to me, Mymoona?
You foolish child! Why did you strain your power
To such a breaking tightness? There's a rhythm
Will shatter hardest stone; each thing in nature
Has its own point where it has done with patience
And starts in pieces; below that point play on it,
Nor overpitch the music. Look, he is coming.
I'll go.
You shall not.
I thought you were alone,
Mymoona. I am not cheap to thrust myself
Where I'm not wanted.
I would be gone, Mymoona.
In truth, I thought it was the barber's woman;
Therefore I stayed.
There are such hearts, Mymoona,
As think so little of adoring love,
They make it only a pedestal for pride,
A whipping-stock for their vain tyrannies.
Mymoona, there are men so weak in love,
They cannot bear more than an ass's load;
So high in their conceit, the tenderest
Kindest rebuke turns all their sweetness sour.
Some have strange ways of tenderness, Mymoona.
Mymoona, some think all control a tyranny.
O you two children! Come, an end of this!
Give it. I join two hands that much desire
And would have met ere this but for their owners,
Who have less sense than they.
She's stronger than me,
Or I'ld not touch you.
I would not hurt Mymoona;
Therefore I take your hand.
Oh, is it so?
Then by your foolish necks! Make your arms meet
About her waist.
Only to satisfy you,
Whom only I care for.
Yours here on his neck.
I was about to yawn, therefore, I raised them.
I go to fetch a cane. Look that I find you
Much better friends. If you will not agree,
Your bones at least shall sympathise and ruefully.
How could you be so harsh to my great love?
How could you be so cruel and so wicked?
I kiss you, but 'tis only your red lips
So soft, not you who are more hard than stone.
I kiss you back, but only 'tis because
I hate to be in debt.
Will you be kinder?
Will you be more obedient and renounce
Your hateful uncle?
Him and all his works,
If you will only smile on me.
I'll laugh
Like any horse. No, I surrender. Clasp me,
I am your slave.
My queen of love.
Both, both.
Why were you so long froward?
Do you remember
I had to woo you in the market? how you
Hesitated a moment?
Vindictive shrew!
This time had I not reason to be angry?
Oh, too much reason! I feel so vile until
I find a means to wash this uncle stain from me.
That's well. But we must now to Nureddene's.
For hard pressed as he is, he'll sell his Anice.
Never!
He must.
I'll lend him thrice her value.
Do not propose it. The wound you gave's too recent.
Then let me keep her as a dear deposit,
The sweet security of Ajebe's loan,
Till he redeems her.
He will take no favours.
No, let him sell her in the open market;
Ajebe will overtop all bids. Till he
Get means, she's safe with us and waiting for him.
Oh, let us go at once.
I'll order letters.
Will you be like this always?
If you are good,
I will be. If not, I will outshrew Xantippe.
With such a heaven and hell in view, I'll be
An angel.
Of what colour?
Black beside you,
But fair as seraphs to what I have been.
Ibn Sawy's house.
Anice-Aljalice, alone.
If Murad fails him, what is left? He has
No other thing to sell but only me.
A thought of horror! Is my love then strong
Only for joy, only to share his heaven?
Can it not enter Hell for his dear sake?
How shall I follow him then after death,
If Heaven reject him? For the path's so narrow
Footing that judgment blade, to slip's so easy.
Murad refuses. This load of debt's a torture!
The dresses and the gems you made me keep —
Keep them; they are your own.
I am your slave-girl.
My body and what it wears, all I am, all I have,
Are only for your use.
Girl, would you have me strip you then quite bare?
What does it matter? The coarsest rag ten dirhams
Might buy, would be enough, if you'ld still love me.
These would not meet one half of what I owe.
Master, you bought me for ten thousand pieces.
Be silent.
Has my value lessened since?
No more! You'll make me hate you.
If you do,
'Tis better, it will help my heart to break.
Have you the heart to speak of this?
Had I
Less heart, less love, I would not speak of it.
I swore to my father that I would not sell you.
But there was a condition.
If you desired it!
Do I not ask you?
Speak truth! Do you desire it?
Truth, in the name of God who sees your heart!
How could I desire it?
Ajebe is here. Be friends with him, dear love;
Forgive his fault.
Anice, my own sins are
So heavy, not to forgive his lesser vileness
Would leave me without hope of heavenly pardon.
I'll call him then.
Let me absolve these debts,
Then straight with Anice to Bagdad the splendid,
There is the home for hearts and brains and hands,
Not in this petty centre. Core of Islam,
Bagdad, the flood to which all brooks converge.
Anice returns with Ajebe, Balkis, Mymoona.
Am I forgiven?
Ajebe, let the past
Have never been.
You are Ibn Sawy's son.
Give me your counsel, Ajebe. I have nothing
But the mere house which is not saleable.
My father must not find a homeless Bassora,
Returning.
Nothing else?
Only myself
Whom he'll not sell.
He must.
Never, Mymoona.
Fear not the sale which shall be in name alone.
'Tis only Balkis borrowing her from you,
Who pawns her value. She will stay with me
Serving our Balkis, safe from every storm,
But if you ask, why then the mart and auction?
We must have public evidence of sale
To meet an uncle's questions.
O now there's light.
But I desire it now, yes, I desire it.
And is my pride then nothing? Shall I sell her
To be a slave-girl's slave-girl? Pardon, Balkis.
Too fine, too fine!
To serve awhile my sister!
Serve only in name.
She will be safe while you rebuild your fortunes.
I do not like it.
Nor does any one
As in itself, but only as a refuge
From greater evils.
Oh, you're wrong, Mymoona,
To quibble with an oath! it will not prosper.
You look at it too finely.
Have it your way, then.
Call the broker here.
A quiet sale! The uncle must not hear of it.
'Twould be the plague.
I fear it will not prosper.
The slave-market.
Muazzim with Anice-Aljalice exposed for sale.
Ajebe, Aziz, Abdullah and merchants.
Who bids?
Four thousand.
She went for ten when she was here first. Will you not raise your bid nearer her value?
She was new then and untouched. 'Tis the way with goods, broker; they lose value by time and purchase, use and soiling.
Oh, sir, the kissed mouth has always honey. But this is a Peri and immortal lips have an immortal sweetness.
Five hundred to that bid.
Ah, it is true! All things come round at last
With the full wheel of Fate; it is my hour.
Fareed shall have her. She shall be well handled
To plague her lover's heart before he dies.
Broker, who sells the girl and what's her rate?
All's lost.
Nureddene bin Alfazzal bin Sawy sells her and your nephew has bid for her four thousand and five hundred.
My nephew bids for me. Who bids against?
Uncle —
Go, find out other slave-girls, Ajebe,
Do well until the end. (Exit Ajebe) Who bids against me?
I'll not be sold to you.
What, dar'st thou speak, young harlot? Fear the whip.
Vizier, I fear you not; there's law in Islam.
Thy master
Shall be a kitchen negro, who shall use thee.
Had I a whip, you should not say it twice.
Vizier, Vizier, by law the owner's acceptance only is final for the sale.
It is a form, but get it. I am impatient
Until I have this strumpet in my grip.
Well, here he comes.
Shall we go, shall we go?
Stand by! 'Tis noble Ibn Sawy's son.
We must protect him even at our own peril.
She goes for a trifle, sir, and even that little you will not get. You will weary your feet with journeyings, only to be put off by his villains, and when you grow clamorous they will demand your order and tear it before your eyes. That's your payment.
That's nothing. The wolf's cub, hunchback Fareed!
Be advised by me. Catch the girl by the hair and cuff her soundly, abusing her with the harshest terms your heart can consent to, then off with her quickly as if you had brought her to market only to execute an oath made in anger. So he loses his hold on her.
I'll tell the lie. One fine, pure seeming falsehood,
Admitted, opens door to all his naked
And leprous family; in, in, they throng
And breed the house quite full.
The Vizier wants her.
He bids four thousand pieces and five hundred.
'Tis nothing. Girl, I keep my oath. Suffice it
You're bidden for and priced in open market here.
Come home! Be now less dainty, meeker of tongue,
Or you shall have more feeling punishments.
Do I need to sell thee? Home! My oath is kept.
This is a trick to cheat the law. Thou ruffian!
Cheap profligate! What hast thou left to sell
But thy own sensual filth and drunken body, —
If any out of charity would spend
Some dirhams to reform thee with a scourge?
Vile son of a bland hypocrite!
Pause, Vizier.
Be patient, Nureddene.
I yet shall kill him.
Hence, harlot, foot before me to my kitchen.
He has abused me filthily, my lord,
Before these merchants.
An use? To be abused is thy utility.
Thou shalt be used and common.
Stand by, you merchants; let none interfere
On peril of his life. Thou foul-mouthed tyrant,
Into the mire and dirt, where thou wert gendered!
Help, help! Hew him in pieces.
The slaves are rushing forward.
What do you, fellows?
This is a Vizier and a Vizier's son.
Shall common men step in? You'll get the blows
For only thanks.
Oh! Oh! Will you then kill me?
If thou wouldst live, crave pardon of the star
Thou hast spat on. I would make thee lick her feet
But that thy lips would foul their purity.
Pardon, oh, pardon!
Live then, in thy gutter.
Go, slaves, lift up your master, lead him off.
What will come of this?
No good to Nureddene. Let's go and warn him;
He's bold and proud, may think to face it out,
Which were mere waiting death.
I pray on us
This falls not.
Here was ill-luck!
Nor ends with this.
I'll have a ship wide-sailed and well-provisioned
For their escape. Bassora will not hold them.
The palace at Bassora.
Alzayni, Salar.
So it is written here. Hot interchange
And high defiance have already passed
Between our Caliph and the daring Roman.
Europe and Asia are at grips once more.
To inspect the southward armies unawares
Haroun himself is coming.
Alfazzal then
Returns to us, unless the European,
After their barbarous fashion, seize on him.
'Tis strange, he sends no tidings of the motion
I made to Egypt.
'Tis too dangerous
To write of, as indeed 'twas ill-advised
To make the approach.
Great dangers justify
The smaller. Caliph Alrasheed conceives
On trifling counts a dumb displeasure towards me
Which any day may speak; 'tis whispered of
In Bagdad. Alkhasib, the Egyptian Vizier,
Is in like plight. It is mere policy,
Salar, to build out of a common peril
A common safety.
Haroun al Rasheed
Could break each one of you between two fingers,
Stretching his left arm out to Bassora,
His right to Egypt. Sultan, wilt thou strive
Against the single giant of the world?
Giants are mortal, friend, be but our swords
As bold as sharp. Call Murad here to me.
My state is desperate, if Haroun lives;
He's sudden and deadly, when his anger bursts.
But let me be more sudden, yet more deadly.
Murad, the time draws near. The Caliph comes
To Bassora; let him not thence return.
My blade is sharp and what I do is sudden.
My gallant Turk! Thou shalt rise high, believe it.
But Kings like thee
Earth needs not.
Justice! Justice! Justice, King!
King of the Age, I am a man much wronged.
Who cries beneath my window? Chamberlain!
An Arab daubed with mud and dirt, all battered,
Unrecognizable, with broken lips cries out
For justice.
Bring him here.
Thou, Vizier! Who has done this thing to thee?
Mahomed, son of Suleyman! Sultan
Alzayni! Abbasside! how shalt thou long
Have friends, if the King's enemies may slay
In daylight, here, in open Bassora
The King's best friends because they love the King?
Name them at once and choose their punishment.
Alfazzal's son, that brutal profligate,
Has done this.
Nureddene!
Upon what quarrel?
A year ago Alfazzal bought a slave-girl
With the King's money for the King, a gem
Of beauty, learning, mind, fit for a Caliph.
But seeing the open flower he thought perhaps
Your royal nose too base to smell at it,
So gave her to his royaller darling son
To soil and rumple. No man with a neck
Dared tell you of it, such your faith was in him.
Is't so? our loved and trusted Ibn Sawy!
This profligate squandering away his wealth
Brought her to market; there I saw her and bid
Her fair full price. Whereat he stormed at me
With words unholy; yet I answered mild,
“My son, not for myself, but the King's service
I need her.” He with bold and furious looks,
“Dog, Vizier of a dog, I void on thee
And on thy Sultan.” With which blasphemy
He seized me, rolled in the mire, battered with blows,
Kicks, pullings of the beard, then dragged me back
And flung me at his slave-girl's feet, who, proud
Of her bold lover, footed my grey head
Repeatedly and laughed, “This for thy King,
Thy dingy stingy King who with so little
Would buy a slave-girl sole in all the world”.
Great Hasheem's vein cords all the Sultan's forehead.
The dog has murdered both of them with his.
Now by the Prophet, my forefather! Out,
Murad! drag here the fellow and his girl,
Trail them with ropes tied to their bleeding heels,
Their faces in the mire, with pinioned hands
Behind their backs, into my presence here.
Sack Sawy's mansion, raze it to the ground.
What, am I grown so bare that by-lane dogs
Like these so loudly bay at me? They die!
Sultan, —
He's doomed who speaks a word for them.
Brother-in-law Murad, fetch your handsome brother.
Soon, lest the Sultan hear of it!
Vizier,
I know my duty. Know your own and do it.
I'll wash, then forth in holiday attire
To see that pretty sport.
What will you do?
Sunjar, a something swift and desperate.
Run not on danger.
I'll send a runner hotfoot to their house
To warn them.
When she hears this? How will her laughing eyes
Be clouded and brim over! Till Haroun comes!
Ibn Sawy's house.
Nureddene, Anice-Aljalice.
'Tis Sunjar warns us, he who always loved
Our father.
Oh, my lord, make haste and flee.
Quick, Nureddene.
I have a ship all ready for Bagdad,
Sails bellying with fair wind, the pilot's hand
Upon the wheel, the captain on the deck,
You only wanting. Flee then to Bagdad
And at the mighty Haroun's hand require
Justice upon these tyrants. Oh, delay not.
O friend! But do me one more service, Ajebe.
Pay the few creditors unsatisfied;
My father will absolve me when he comes.
That's early done. And take my purse. No fumbling,
I will not be denied.
Bagdad! (laughing) Why, Anice,
Our dream comes true; we hobnob with the Caliph!
