Did they not show us a great heap of bones to show what had been done? 'You are
the king's son,' they said. 'Our troubles will now end as darkness before the rising sun.
You are our only refuge.' Could we princes hear their piteous appeal and refrain from
helping them? Every kshatriya, every one has to do his duty, not the king alone. You are,
of course, solicitous for my safety.
Even granting that what you say is right, I
have given my word and I cannot go back. They said, 'You are our refuge,' and I have given
my word to protect them. A pledge thus given cannot be withdrawn. What I have spoken
cannot now be unsaid. You and I must tread together the path of dharma. How can we
differ?" Talking thus, they went along the forest path.
This conversation occurs in the poem like
the cloud that pre cedes the storm. It is the artistic creation of a changing atmosphere
and not a random casting up of facile verses. |
