Jain Journal 1979 10

Author(s): Jain Bhawan Publication
Publisher: Jain Bhawan Publication

Page 18

OCTOBER, 1979
built body as fresh as young Devadarụ. He was the first lord of this land of action. At his wish this city was built with all-wish-fulfilling palace where everything pertaining to mundane pleasure was in abundance. But amidst his wives, sons and other kins he used to remain aloof, much above the longing of beauty, smell, taste and touch. He was unaffected by mortal pleasure and pain.
It was why when the hearts of old governors would melt at the dances and songs of beautiful and proficient courtesans, he used to remain undistrurbed just looking without any emotion. What to speak of young governors--some of them by tearing their own garlands of scented flowers used to throw them on their rhythmic feet. Some taking the red ruby from their turbans used to offer them as if tinged with their love. Some used to spread their hands to grab the buds that were falling from their hair to keep them close to their heart. But even then the lips of Rsabha used to part a little with mild. laugh.
As usual the courtesans were dancing on the stage on that day.
Sweet scent was coming out of the incense pots. Then in the bluish light of heavenly sapphire, casting the spell of a dreamy land from some outer space burst forth a woman whose hair was as dark as monsoon cloud. The audience all-over were wonder-struck. The beauties of Vinita faded before her. Even the eyes of Rsabha could not but wonder.
After a momentary silence instruments of the players began to play again. Vina, Vipanci, Mandira and Mrdanga issued forth tumultuous tune. Ornaments adorning the beautiful arms began to tinkle and anklets produced their seductive thuds and rhymes. Its resonance enchanted the stage and spread beyond to the woodland beneath the blue of the sky surrounded by the horizon.
At the wish of Indra Nilanjana, soft as Sirisa flower, continued her dance till midnight by throwing her beautiful arms, by dangling her necklace, by casting her glances and scattering the particles of her beauty.
At last she stopped. Placing her Campaka-like palms on her hips she began to look at the face of Rsabha from the corner of her eyes.
Wonder-struck king Rsabha was seated there, in his own effulgence as before. He was looking much more beyond.
Nilanjana stepped down from the stage. Slowly she proceeded towards