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Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra

by Helen M. Johnson | 1931 | 742,503 words

This page describes Description of sunset, moonrise and dawn which is the sixth part of chapter VI of the English translation of the Jain Ramayana, contained within the “Trishashti Shalaka Purusha Caritra�: a massive Jain narrative relgious text composed by Hemacandra in the 12th century. This Jain Ramayana contains the biographies of Rama, Lakshmana, Ravana, Naminatha, Harishena-cakravartin and Jaya-cakravartin: all included in the list of 63 illustrious beings or worthy persons.

Go directly to: Footnotes.

Part 6: Description of sunset, moonrise and dawn

Then the sun sank into the western ocean, as if he wished to bathe because of weariness from wandering in the forest of the sky. As the sun departed, after enjoying the western quarter, he took away her garments, as it were, in the guise of twilight-clouds. A row of red clouds shone in the west, as if brilliance had remained independently, after abandoning the sun when he set. Quickly the face of the East darkened from shame at the thought, “Deserting me, with a new love he has wooed the West who has a new color.�

Lamentation was made by the birds in the form of twittering from grief at the abandonment of their play-grounds. The pitiful cakravākī became sad like a passionate woman whose husband is far away. The lotus covered her face entirely when the sun set,[1] like a faithful wife whose husband has gone to rest. The cows returned quickly from the forest, eager for their calves, worshipped by Brāhmans delighted at obtaining a bath from the wind.[2] When the sun set, he surrendered his own brilliance to fire, like a king surrendering sovereignty to his heir. Fires, which stole the beauty of a row of constellations descended from the sky, were lighted everywhere by women. When the sun had set and the moon had not (yet) risen, darkness[3] began to spread. Verily, mischievous persons are clever in deceit. Is this vessel of heaven and earth filled with dust from Mt. ñᲹԲ or with antimony? It was observed entirely filled with darkness. Neither dry land, nor water, nor directions, nor the sky, nor the earth—what need for many words—not even one’s own hand could be seen at that time. The stars in the sky which was dark like a sword, anointed with darkness completely, resembled for a long time cowries on a gambling-board. The sky, dark as collyrium, with distinct constellations resembled a pool of the ۲ܲ with erect white lotuses. With the flood of darkness making everything one shape, penetrating in every direction, the whole universe became deprived of light like . In dense darkness women-messengers, unafraid, eager for lovers� meetings, spread out as they liked, like carp in a pool. Women went to meet their lovers, their anklets pushed up to their knees,[4] their clothes dark as a ٲ, their bodies anointed with musk.

Then the moon rose, resembling the golden finial on a palace on the eastern mountain, the bulb for the shoots of moonbeams. The spreading darkness in the guise of the mark on the moon appeared to be having a fight with the moon from inborn enmity. The moon sported at will with the stars in the broad sky, like a bull with cows, in the cow-pen. The moon with its spot clearly visible in the interior shone like a vessel of silver containing musk. The rays of the moon, tripped by lonely men with their hands held out, streamed ahead like arrows of Love. The bees abandoned the day-blooming lotus which had fallen into a poor state, though enjoyed for a long time, and resorted to the night-blooming lotus. Shame on friendship with the low! The moon made the śephāli’s[5] blossoms fall by strokes with its rays, as if to prepare arrows for its friend Puṣpeśu. Making the moonstones drip, the moon, by making new pools, caused panegyrics on his own good works, as it were. The moonlight which lighted up the face of the sky exhibited the sad faces of unchaste women moving about, like day-blooming lotuses. The son of Pavanañjaya passed the night without anxiety in dalliance with Laṅkāsundarī.

Then the sun rose, adorning the quarter dear to Prācīnabarhis with rays resembling threads of gold. The rays of the sun, advancing unhindered, became missiles for causing sleep for the open night-blooming lotuses. The head-wreaths, discarded by the women awakened, cried out, as it were, with the sounds of the bees at separation from the knot of hair. Courtesans returned from the houses of their lovers, their eyes red from the exertion of keeping awake during the night. Rows of bees left the interiors of the open lotuses, like creepers of sighs from the lotus-mouths of deserted wives. The moon had the strength of its light stolen by the splendor of the risen sun and resembled a spider’s web. The darkness which had not been contained in the space between heaven and earth was led away somewhere by the sun, like a cloud by a strong wind that has scattered it. The citizens began to attend to their respective duties, because of the departure of sleep that had been bound by the night, as it were.

Footnotes and references:

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[1]:

The day-blooming lotus.

[2]:

Refreshed by the evening breeze? I have found no ritual vāyavyasnāna.

[3]:

Tamas, with a play on its meaning as the source of ignoble qualities.

[4]:

To keep them from tinkling.

[5]:

See II, n. 458.

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