The Recognition of Sakuntala

“ANASUYA. Dear Sakuntala, I suspect Father Kanva loves the ashram’s trees even more than he loves you – for delicate as jasmine bloom yourself, he has still appointed you to water their roots.

SAKUNTALA. It’s not just father’s instructions. I love them like sisters.”

This exchange between Sakuntala and her friend Anasuya emphasizes Sakuntala’s deep connection to the natural world. Sakuntala calling the trees her “sisters” is an example of personification, while also illustrating Sakuntala’s communion with nature and her dutiful and selfless nature.

“The lotus glows, though weeds drag down its roots,

A dark penumbra makes the moon more light,

And this slight child beggars her beggar’s clothes,

All rags are gown on girls who burn this bright.”

Dusyanta notes that just like the blossoms amidst wild weeds, Sakuntala blooms in her coarse attire. Dusyanta calling her a “slight child” emphasizes Sakuntala’s slenderness and youth, and also establishes that Dusyanta is quite a bit older. Sakuntala’s natural unadorned beauty evokes Nature’s Purity Versus Urban Corruption.

“DUSYANTA. My body forges on, my restless mind streams back—

A silken banner borne against the wind.”

Conflict is a defining feature of Dusyanta’s character, especially when it comes to the tensions between Duty (Dharma) Versus Love (Kama). Dusyanta is forced to go through the motions of practical life, but his mind strains back to Sakuntala and the pastoral, romantic realm like a banner in the wind, illustrating that he feels torn between his private emotions and public duties.

“Did the great Creator first draw her in a masterpiece,

And then touch life into his art?

Or did he make her in his mind alone,

Drawing on beauty’s every part?”

Dusyanta sings most of the play’s songs. These are in Sanskrit and often set to classical Sanskrit musical meters, which would give them a chant-like quality in the original. Here, Dusyanta uses the analogy of sculpting to describe Sakuntala’s creation by God. He wonders if the master-creator first created the form, and then moved by its beauty, blew life into it, or materialized her from his mind itself. So unique is Sakuntala’s beauty that it is difficult to tell what came first, the form or the idea.

“I cannot say I know your mind,

But day and night the god of love

Injects that pain through all my limbs,

Which you prepared—ah sweet unkind—

I cannot say I know your mind.”

The letter which Sakuntala composes for Dusyanta in Act III is the only instance in the play she is given a song, unlike Dusyanta who often speaks in verse. Sakuntala’s song reveals her own desire and sense of agency, although she is soon interrupted by Dusyanta. This interruption shows that Dusyanta is the lover, the active figure of the couple, while Sakuntala is the object of love, the beloved. As an object, she cannot sing much. However, when Sakuntala and Dusyanta’s relationship moves out of the sphere of romance, as in Act V, Sakuntala immediately becomes more vocal.

“Timid fawn—don’t worry about your elders! The father of your family knows the law, and he shall find no fault in what you’ve done. Besides:

You wouldn’t be the first royal sage’s daughter

To take a prince for love—

And receive her father’s blessings later.”

Dusyanta’s seductive words are meant to persuade Sakuntala to make love with him, an act which constitutes a secret but lawful marriage. Though Sakuntala is attracted to Dusyanta, she fears offending her elders, reflecting the dilemma of Duty (Dharma) Versus Love (Kama). Dusyanta therefore uses the law to convince the dutiful Sakuntala to marry him.

“That man whose brilliance

Robs your thought of everything, including me,

A great ascetic fired by penance—

That man, though prompted,

Shall not remember you at all,

Like a drunken sot, who cannot recall

What he said in his cups the night before.”

Durvasas’s curse occurs offstage, as such catastrophic events sometimes do in Sanskrit drama. In Sanskrit mythology, Durvasas, a legendary sage, is known for his fiery temper and propensity for delivering curses. This trait was often used as a plot device in epics and other stories. Durvasas’s curse is ominous, predicting that Dusyanta will forget Sakuntala just like a drunk man forgets his promise, reflecting the importance of Memory and Forgetting in the play.

“May her path be charmed by lotus-covered lakes,

May trees grow shadows in the mid-day heat,

May the dust of the road be pollen

Beneath her feet…”

Another example of the off-stage voice, this divine utterance booms out soon after Durvasas’s curse and assures the audience that Sakuntala’s suffering will be temporary. The heavenly voice blesses Sakuntala and says that nature itself will tame the rough path to make her journey easy.

“Anasuya, mark that! How the wild goose honks in anguish because her mate is hidden by lotus leaves…But my suffering is worse.”

Sakuntala uses the metaphor of the red goose to describe herself, since it was believed red geese were cursed to be apart at night. However, her pain is worse, because the goose will meet the gander the next day, while Sakuntala does not know when she will next see Dusyanta.

“How shall I survive in foreign soil, now that, like a sandalwood vine, uprooted from a mountain slope, I’ve been torn from my father’s side?”

Though Sakuntala pines for Dusyanta, she is also fearful of her fate in the city, invoking Nature’s Purity Versus Urban Corruption. Sakuntala’s words foreshadow her suffering in the next act, and also add to the play’s mood of parting and separation.

“A daughter’s never really ours –

And now I’ve sent her to her husband’s home,

I feel that inner calm a debtor feels

When he’s repaid a loan.”

Kanva’s words after bidding farewell to Sakuntala reflect the conflicted attitudes about women’s roles in society. While he is deeply sad at parting from his daughter, he also refers to Sakuntala as a “loan.” Marrying a daughter was considered an extremely important duty for a father, since marriage was the building block of worldly society. Due to society’s patrilinear system, daughters always moved out of their parents’ home to live with their husband and in-laws. As daughters left the house, never to return, they were seen as a poorer investment than sons, who brought in a wife and added to the family.

“Have you forgotten—forgotten so soon,

How you settled on the mango bloom,

Turning nectar to honey with kisses?

Have you really forgotten what bliss is?

To change it so quickly

For the wan and sickly

Night-flowering lotus?”

This song about Memory and Forgetting by Hamsapadika, one of Dusyanta’s queens, sets the stage for Dusyanta’s repudiation of Sakuntala. Hamsapadika laments Dusyanta’s changing affections, which flit, bee-like, from mango bloom to lotus flower. While the song ostensibly refers to Dusyanta and his queens, the audience knows it is really about his forgetting Sakuntala. The bee motif recurs here is a classic example of Kalidasa’s mirrored symbolism. In Act I, a bee troubled Sakuntala and Dushyanta jumped to her defense. Here, Dusyanta himself is compared to the offending bee, who abandons his queens (and who will briefly abandon Sakuntala).

“All beings are happy once they’ve gratified their desires, except for kings, who must be satisfied with dissatisfaction.”

Act V is tense, even before Sakuntala’s meeting with Dusyanta. Dusyanta is wearied by the pressures of kingship. His public life leaves no room for private happiness, a fact which often troubles him. The conflict between Duty (Dharma) Versus Love (Kama) is central to Dusyanta’s character.

“How are we supposed to feel in such a place? Look at these city people—

These pleasure lovers:

I feel…

Pure among the polluted

Awake among sleepers

At liberty with slaves.”

Sarngarava, an ascetic who has accompanied Sakuntala to Dusyanta’s capital, sums up the contrast between the spiritual purity of nature and the decadent corruption of the city in a series of pithy similes involving juxtaposition. For a hermit like him, being in a city is like being the one awakened person in a sea of sleepers, the one free man among those enslaved by desires.

“They offer me this flawless girl…

Could I have married her? I no longer know.

Like a bee mithering at dawn

Round a jasmine soaked in dew,

I can neither approach her, nor go.”

Throughout Act V, Dusyanta often speaks in asides. While the dialogue addressed to Sakuntala and the other hermitage-dwellers is harsh, the asides are more tinged with confusion. The dichotomy reveals Dusyanta’s two selves warring with each other, as well as the complex nature of Memory and Forgetting. Although his mind has forgotten Sakuntala, his subconscious remembers her, which is why he feels like a bee circling in frustration around a jasmine bloom. The simile invokes familiar symbolism: Dusyanta as the bee, and Sakuntala as the jasmine flower.

“SAKUNTALA. (aside) ‘What’s the use in reminding him, when passion can change so monstrously? But I owe it to myself to clear my name.’ (Aloud) ‘Dear husband—’ (she breaks off in the middle)— ‘no, my right to address you in that way has been cast into doubt. Puru King, then…It becomes you very well to disown a naive and innocent girl with meagre words, after you used them so richly to deceive me in the hermitage.’”

Sakuntala’s speech is calibrated and effective, and an example of how she restrains herself despite being plunged into grief and shame when Dusyanta repudiates her. Her decision to address Dusyanta as “Puru King” is a subtle but brutal reprimand to him, and she criticizes him directly for his apparent deceit in seducing her. Sakuntala’s words here show that despite being a stereotypically virtuous romantic heroine, she is also a strong, nuanced character.

“Cuckoos get other birds to raise their chicks

And teach them flight. Females of every kind

Have natural cunning to perform these tricks,

But, women, in addition, have devious minds.”

The alternating speeches of Dusyanta and Sakuntala are an example of Kalidasa’s use of juxtaposition. While Sakuntala’s speech is mostly restrained and controlled despite her greater rage and sorrow, Dusyanta’s words are harsh and sexist. Not only does he scold Sakuntala, but he also dismisses the venerable sage Gautami. Here, he makes a generalization about the legendary cunning of women, comparing women to cuckoos who are so devious they leave their chicks in the nests of others.

“Instead of jewels, he wears a single band

Above his left-hand wrist; his lips are cracked

By sighs; brooding all night has drained his eyes

Of luster; yet, just as grinding reveals

A gem, his austerity lays bare

An inner brilliance and an ideal form.”

The image of a penitent Dusyanta in Act VI mirrors the image of Sakuntala in Act III, when she was wasting away out of love for him. Dusyanta’s appearance underscores the genuineness of his remorse and enhances the mood of separation and sorrow. Despite being in lush pleasure gardens, the king is now like an ascetic. These words, spoken by a minor character, use hyperbole to bring Dusyanta’s remorse to life.

“What is this? It doesn’t suit you. Gales don’t shake mountains. And the noblest men are never overwhelmed by grief.”

Again and again, Dusyanta’s character is torn between Duty (Dharma) Versus Love (Kama). Here, Madhavya reminds the lovelorn king that submitting to grief is not apt for a man in his position. Madhavya uses the metaphor of a mountain to describe Dusyanta. The metaphor sums up Dusyanta’s difficulties—he is not even allowed to show grief and weakness. Dusyanta cannot abdicate his royal duties.

“DUSYANTA. ‘But what about me? Why did I reject my love?’

VIDUSAKA. (aside) ‘Why am I feeling so ravenous?’”

These lines show how the Vidusaka injects irreverent humor into the somber proceedings, fulfilling the role of the stock clownish character. Dusyanta’s remorse is serious and real, yet it is also an example of his self-absorption. Madhavya cuts the tension with his own preoccupations about feeling hungry.

“I rejected my love when she stood before me,

Yet now I’m obsessed by her painted image:

I crossed the stream of living water

To drink from a mirage.”

These lines use the metaphor of a river and a shimmering mirage to explain the difference between the living Sakuntala and her painted image (See: Symbols & Motifs). While the water is life-giving, the mirage is deceptive, and Dusyanta is the man who chose deception over life. Sakuntala is yet again compared to a natural entity—a river—signifying her oneness with the natural and spiritual realms.

“Stir the embers and the fire leaps up,

Threaten the snake and its hood expands —

Everything in nature, if provoked, responds.”

These epigrammatic lines spoken by Indra’s charioteer Matali introduce a note of quickness to the somber mood in Act VI, indicating a shift of tone. Matali has just pretended to attack Madhavya to stir Dusyanta out of his grief. This indicates the time for contemplation and regret has passed, and Dusyanta must now act. Matali’s words foreshadow the concluding action of Act VII.

“My dear, that cruelty I practiced on you has come full circle, since now it is I who need to be recognized by you.”

Sakuntala’s momentary lapse in recognizing Dusyanta mirrors Dusyanta’s earlier forgetting of her, again illustrating the ties of Memory and Forgetting to the experience of love and loss. Dusyanta’s character himself notes the importance of the turn, since it means the imbalance created by his forgetting of Sakuntala has been returned and rectified.