Even staying imprisoned in a cage for a reason is better, I’d say, than flying for no reason at all.

Prince:Why do you say there’s a reason for staying confined?

Merchant:Because we remain shackled inside a golden cage to satisfy our greed for food and drink.

Prince:You won’t understand! You won’t understand at all.

Merchant:It is my own weakness: I simply can’t understand things that are beyond comprehension. Why not explain more clearly, what it is that you find intolerable?

Prince:Our monotonous life in this palace.

Merchant:You call it monotonous? With so many comforts, so many luxuries?

Prince:I feel I resemble a stone idol in a golden temple. My ears always filled with the same monotonous sound of the conch-shell and the temple gong! Receiving my regular portion of uncooked rice in the naibedya offering, but unable to relish the bhog, the cooked meal blessed by the deity! How can one tolerate this?

Merchant:But the likes of us find it very easy to tolerate. It’s a mercy our rations are fixed and regular. If our bonds were loosened, we’d be struggling to survive. What we get is sufficient to feed our appetite. But as for people like you, what you don’t get is what you crave for, to satisfy your mental hunger.

Prince:And every day one is forced to listen to eulogies sung by those minstrels, set to the same fixed rhythm—the same old metre.

Merchant:But the oftener eulogies are heard, the more enjoyable they become, I feel. They never grow stale.

Prince:One has barely woken up when that tone-deaf bunch begins to perform. And every morning, to be blessed with dhan-durba, grass and paddy, by the same priest our purut thakur! And going in and out, I see that old minder standing upright beside the door, just like a wooden puppet. I just have to try stepping out somewhere, and the armed guard appears at once, crying, ‘Where are you going? Where are you going?’ All of them have choked my heart into silence, I feel.

Merchant:Why, when you go hunting occasionally, there’s nothing but wildlife to disturb your peace.

Prince:What’s your idea of wildlife? Indeed, I suspect the royal hunter dopes the tigers with opium, for the creatures seem to have adopted the path of nonviolence. So far I haven’t seen a single tiger accomplish a respectable leap.

Merchant:Say what you will, I don’t find the tigers’ conduct uncivil. The pomp and ceremony of the hunt remains intact; only our hearts no longer quake in fear.

Prince:The other day, I had shot a bear with my arrow, from a great distance, raising cries of glory all around. ‘What a skilful marksman the prince is!’ they all exclaimed. Afterwards, I heard rumours that they had stuffed a bearskin with straw, and set it up. I couldn’t bear such extreme ridicule. I have condemned the hunter to prison.

Merchant:You have done him good. That prison of his adjoins the inner quarters of Rani Ma the Queen, so he’s quite comfortable. Why, just the other day, I sent across three maunds of ghee and thirty-three lambs for him, from our place.

Prince:What’s the meaning of all this!

Merchant:That bear was created upon the Rani Ma’s orders, after all.

Prince:You see! We are fenced in with falsehoods. Languishing in the cage of safety, our wings have grown stiff. Everything here is a farce, from beginning to end. They have made a clown prince of me. I feel like tearing apart my regal attire. Seeing those people tilling their fields out there, I think to myself that they are fortunate to be born as farmers, a fortune earned through the merits of their forefathers.

Merchant:And try asking them what they think about you? What nonsensical things you’re saying, Prince! You’re concealing your real thoughts. O Patralekha, it’s you who might gauge the secret thoughts of our Prince. Why not ask him about them, once?

Enter Patralekha, a young woman

(Song)

Patralekha:Your secret will be hid no more,

In your silent gaze it will be out—

Prince:No, no, no, it can be hid no more.

Patralekha:It emerges in your blissful smile,

It appears in the music of your flute, And trembles on your lips, as you secretly dream.

Prince:No, no, no, it can be hid no more.

Patralekha:The bee is humming,

And in exquisite agony, thirsty for light, The ashoka has burst into bloom.

The heart’s lotus, thousand-petalled, Trembles on the water

In the melancholy light of a rosy dawn . . .

Prince:No, no, no, it can be hid no more.

Prince:Indeed, I have a secret; it’s hidden in the sky, somewhere far away. From the ocean’s edge, I gaze at the western horizon. I shall set out in search of what my destiny has concealed there, like the underworld treasure guarded by a yaksha.

(Song)

On a trading venture I’ll set forth,

On a merchant-ship I’ll sail.

If fortune’s goddess should forsake me,

Let misfortune prevail.

Merchant:What’s this you say! Merchant-ship?

But you’re chanting a trader’s mantra!

Prince:I’ll set my ship in order, and

Employ a thousand hands;

To cross the unknown seas, and reach

Some far-off, unknown lands.

I’ll cling no more to land and shore,

Following an unknown star, I’ll go;

Whither I’ll sail, I do not know,

On the ocean’s dark expanse . . .

But in vain hope I shall not mope

On this shore of golden sands.

Merchant:To navigate the shoreless sea and vanish without trace—that’s not a merchant’s route. Have you received any tidings of this route?

Prince:Indeed, I have. In hints and suggestions, in my dreams.

A green isle in the ocean’s lap,

With coral circled round.

On its mountaintops, the seabirds all

Have made their nesting-ground.

The wild and stormy gusts of wind

Make the coconut palm-fronds sway,

And between the trees of the forest dense,

The river snakes its way.

The seven kings’ treasure will be mine,

If I can reach that land someday.

Merchant:From your tune, it’s clear that this treasure is not what merchants trade in. Tell me, what is this treasure called?

Prince:Nabina! Nabina—she who embodies newness!

Merchant:Nabina! At last, a clear answer.

Prince:But her image is still far from clear.

(Song)

O Nabina! O Nabina!

The trodden path you have forsaken.

In the springtime breeze, your voice I hear;

’Midst the golden clouds, I feel you’re there,

At dawn, as soon as I awaken.

Merchant:It will be hard to obtain this dream treasure of yours, I warn you.

Prince:You yield to me in dreams alone,

Why do you mock and tease me so!

Those alaka blossoms in your hair—

In which paradise do they grow?

What unknown melody, O Nabina,

Do you play in solitude, on your veena!

Enter Rani Ma

Merchant:Rani Ma, he wants to catch an illusion in a net.

He wants to discover the land of fairy tales.