This wicked Keechaka still wandered in dreams, imagining her vine-like arms entwining him, her tender leaves of palms pressing upon his limbs, her lotus-bright face leaning towards him like the first rays that kiss a blooming flower.
Her eyes and their reckless glances filled him with dread whenever he recalled them; confusion and senseless desire ruled his mind, and he moved like a puppet drawn by unseen strings. Once feared by enemies, he had now become a danger unto himself, for all his training in arms and all his strategic mastery had sunk into the dark abyss of lust. Overpowered by desire, he approached his sister with folded hands, seeking from her the secrets of the maiden.
She, affectionate to her brother, spoke with gentle respect, but he listened not; instead, he lifted a trembling finger and pointed towards Sairandhri, demanding: “O sister, tell me the birth of this fragrant woman—what is her nature, her name, her husband, her dwelling, and the honour you grant her; reveal all without concealment.”
The queen Sudheshna pondered, thinking, “The arrows of Love’s god strike his mind; I must turn his course for the good of all.” She attempted to divert his thought, yet the unwise and wicked man drew near Sairandhri, following her closely, and said, “O moon-faced lady, is there in this world a woman equal to you in beauty? Who is your father, who your husband, what is your name?”
She remained still, as one who neither hears nor feels emotion. “O delicate one,” he murmured, “your half-opened eyes already shine; if you open them fully, what radiance will break forth! O lotus-eyed maiden, your gracious countenance would glow like moonlight were you to smile. Part your lips and speak; your teeth, pearl-bright, would flash like lightning on the clouds. O flower-faced lady, will you not return the tenderness of my desire?”
He crept closer, saying, “I long to hear your sweet voice,” thinking to seize her hand, yet fearing her rebuke; he trembled with restlessness, unable to discern her mind. “O beauty,” he said, “my gaze itself may harm you, and your commanding presence leaves me without words. My hands shake to touch yours, for they may be refused.
If you ignore me longer, my heart will revolt. I am dying of thoughts of you; lose me now, and you may never find me again.” His bold address troubled her deeply; anger surged within her, yet she restrained herself, thinking it unwise to hasten into danger, and resolved to elude him with skill. “O sir,” she said, “you do not understand my plight. Look at my faded garments and the mark upon my brow—how unworthy I appear. In such a state, how can you entertain forbidden thoughts? Honourable men do not speak thus; you have sisters—treat all women as you treat them. I am of low birth, and chastity is my shield. Ask me not in this manner.”
But her clarity could not pierce his corrupted mind. He only softened his speech and said, “O lovely damsel, your steps fall like lotus leaves upon the earth, your form shines, your complexion gleams like the spotless moon, your hair flows like silk, your braided knot rises like a hill crowned with flowers. Beauty such as yours deserves comfort and luxury; why should you serve another? You yourself show you are not low-born. I shall bear whatever sin rises from joining another’s wife, for the god of desire torments me.” Her wrath flared at this, and she thought the base-minded man must be warned.
She said, “O Keechaka, my husbands are warriors of boundless might, undefeated and fierce as tempests. There are five Gandharvas who can humble you and take your life. You know not the sinew of their arms.” Keechaka replied, “O lotus-eyed lady, know that none in the three worlds can overcome me—what need to speak of your husbands?” Patience left her then. “O senseless Keechaka,” she said, “without thought of right or wrong, you grasp for fruits that grow beyond reach. Desire not the impossible. Have you not heard how Ravana and others were destroyed by such lust?”
But the lion-strong man, clouded by passion, could not grasp her words. Pale, trembling with strange emotions, he returned to his sister, burning with rejection. “The woman of whom I asked,” he said, “ensnares me beyond control. She was here a moment ago—where has she gone?” Seeing his wavering mind, Sudheshna understood he had fallen into infatuation. “What harm awaits him?” she wondered. “He never listens nor turns back. What shall I do to save him?” She tried again to dissuade him: “O brother, delicate beauties with anklets chiming, walking like swans, adorned with fragrance, clad in fine, transparent garments, swaying like blossoms in the breeze, smiling with affection, stirring hearts with gentle touch—such women await your gracious glance. Ignoring them, why chase a servant who gives you neither response nor regard? Why desire tasteless, graceless Sairandhri?” But Keechaka, corrupted at heart, brushed her aside. “In no court,” he said, “is there a woman equal to Sairandhri—not even in the halls of the celestials.
Her eyes dart like playful fish, her hands are tender as lotus stalks, the soles of her feet like fresh leaves, her speech sweet as the koel’s song, her voice like music from the veena, her intellect and dignity unmatched. O innocent sister, you have not truly seen her. You must unite me with her by some means.” Sudheshna answered, “To covet another’s wife destroys wealth, fame, and life. Is it not despised by the righteous? Do you not understand it is folly? A married woman cannot join herself to a stranger; fear clouds her mind, shame pales her face, and even if her companion consents, her heart trembles at the world’s reproach. The king’s knowledge would fill her with terror; she cannot give joy when fear rules her.
Therefore, such unions are unwise. All discerning men cast aside such thoughts. O brother, abandon this delusion; life cannot flourish along a corrupt path. What is unfit must be shunned.” The queen strove with all her power, certain of the strength of Sairandhri’s husbands and fearing for her brother’s life. Yet destiny, inscrutable in its design, already wove its threads in silence.
