The pearl of Orisa

I

The sun has disappeared behind the peaks of Jabwi, and the shadow of this mountain envelops with a veil of crape the pearl of Orisa's cities, the gentle Kattak, who sleeps at its feet among the forests of cinnamon and sycamore, like a dove resting on a nest of flowers. 

II

The day that is dying and the night that is being born contend for a moment, while the blueish mist of twilight spreads its diaphanous wings over the valleys, robbing colour and form from objects that seem to waver, disturbed by the breath of a spirit. 

III

The confused murmurs of the city, which disperse trembling; the melancholy sighs of the night, swelling from echo to echo repeated by the birds; the thousand mysterious sounds that, like a hymn to the divinity, creation offers at the birth and death of the star that gives it life, unite with the murmur of the Jawkior, whose waves are kissed by the evening breeze, producing a song, sweet, vague, and lost like the final notes of an improvisation by a temple dancer. 

.....

I

Ha desaparecido el sol tras las cimas del Jabwi, y la sombra de esta montaña envuelve con un velo de crespón a la perla de las ciudades de Orisa, a la gentil Kattak, que duerme a sus pies, entre los bosques de canela y sicómoros, semejante a una paloma que descansa sobre un nido de flores.

II

El día que muere y la noche que nace luchan un momento, mientras la azulada niebla del crepúsculo tiende sus alas diáfanas sobre los valles, robando el color y las formas a los objetos, que parecen vacilar agitados por el soplo de un espíritu.

III

Los confusos rumores de la ciudad, que se evaporan temblando; los melancólicos suspiros de la noche, que se dilatan de eco en eco repetidos por las aves; los mil ruidos misteriosos, que como un himno a la divinidad levanta la creación, al nacer y al morir el astro que la vivifica, se unen al murmullo del Jawkior, cuyas ondas besa la brisa de la tarde, produciendo un canto dulce, vago y perdido como las últimas notas de la improvisación de una bayadera.

.....

These are the opening paragraphs from Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer's "The Chieftain of the Red Hands" ("El caudillo de las manos rojas"), published in 1858. 

The startling, perfumed style of Bécquer's Indian tale is said to have had great influence on modernismo.

This rapt scene of twilight beyond the city walls will be shattered by violence. Pulo is attacked by his elder brother and kills him, thus acquiring both his brother's kingdom and Siannah, the woman he loves, but he will be racked by guilt. The story concerns his stupendous labours to win redemption; twice almost achieving it, but each time let down by his own warm nature. We see that this everyman's passionate commitment to doing things the right way is all of a piece with the over-eagerness that defeats him. 

*

The young, sickly Bécquer had no acquaintance with India; this legend was dreamt out of deep reading in orientalist texts in French and German. 

The city that Bécquer called Kattak is now known internationally as Cuttack (Odia: Kataka). The state that he called Orisa is now transliterated as Odisha. 

Cuttack is in fact on the river Mahanadi, at the head of its delta; Bécquer invented the river Jawkior. He also invented the mountain Jabwi; there are some low hills around Cuttack but no peaks. 

What he didn't invent was the city's reputation for beauty. It is a historic city (e.g. the 10th-century Barabati fort). It is given the traditional honorific "Kataka Nagara Dhabala Tagara", which means "Cuttack, White City of Tagara". Tagara is the common and beautiful shrub Pinwheel Jasmine (Tabernaemontana divaricata).

Tagara (Tabernaemontana divaricata).

[Image source: https://www.landscapingcapecoral.net/flower-pinwheeljasmine.html .]

Tagara (Tabernaemontana divaricata).

[Image source: Wikipedia. ]

Link Road, Cuttack

[Image source: Wikipedia . Photo by Subhashish Panigrahi.]

Durga Puja Pandal in Cuttack

[Image source: https://www.etvbharat.com/en/!state/cuttacks-glittering-durga-puja-a-tradition-of-silver-and-gold-enn24092405017 .]

Barabati Fort, Cuttack

[Image source: Wikipedia . Photo by Daniel Limma.]

*

Bécquer's Leyendas in Spanish: 

https://www.vicentellop.com/TEXTOS/becquer-leyendas/leyendasbecquer.htm

Leyendas was put together after Bécquer's death and both its contents and sequence vary from one edition to another. At its core are 17 stories, but others are often added. 

Given the fame of Leyendas in the Spanish-speaking world I was astonished that I couldn't track down an English translation of "El caudillo de las manos rojas".

Most of the stories were translated by Cornelia Frances Bates and her daughter Katharine Lee Bates as Romantic Legends of Spain (1909), but they left out the two Indian stories:

https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/50044/pg50044-images.html

I think I had better steer Google Translate through a few more paragraphs...

IV

Night conquers; the sky is crowned with stars, and the towers of Kattak, to rival it, wear diadems of torches. Who is this chieftain who appears at the foot of its walls, at the same time that the moon rises among light clouds beyond the mountains, at whose feet the Ganges runs like an immense blue serpent with silver scales?

V

It is he. What other warrior, of those who fly like an arrow to combat and to death at the standard of Shiva, meteor of glory, with his hair adorned with the red tail-feather of the bird of the Indian gods, the gold tortoise pendant, the agate-handled dagger hanging from his yellow cashmere shawl: who but Pulo-Dheli, Rajah of Dakka, lightning-bolt of battles and brother of Tippot-Dheli, magnificent king of Orisa, lord of lords, shadow of God and son of the luminous stars?

VI

It is he: no other knows thus to lend his eyes either the melancholy glow of the morning star, or the sinister gleam of a tiger's pupil: imparting to his dark features the splendor of a serene night, or the terrible aspect of a storm on the lofty peaks of Davalaguiri. It is he; but what is he waiting for?

VII

Do you hear the leaves sigh beneath the light foot of a maiden? Do you see the ends of her diaphanous shawl and the hems of her white gown floating among the shadows? Do you perceive the fragrance that precedes her like the messenger of a genie? Wait, and you will behold her in the first ray of the solitary traveler of the night; wait, and you will meet Siannah, the betrothed of the mighty Tippot-Dheli, the lover of his brother, the maiden whom the poets of his nation compare to the smile of Bermach, which shone upon the world when it came from his hands; a heavenly smile, the first dawn of the orbs.

VIII

Pulo hears the sound of her footsteps; his face lights up like a peak touched by the first ray of the sun, and he comes out to meet her. His heart, which has not throbbed in the fire of the fight, nor in the presence of the tiger, beats violently under the hand that reaches out for him, fearing that the happiness it can no longer contain will overflow. "Pulo!" "Siannah!" they exclaim upon seeing each other, and they fall into each other's arms. Meanwhile, the Jawkior, splashing the wings of the zephyr with its waves, flees to die in the Ganges, and the Ganges to the Bay of Bengal, and the Gulf to the Ocean. Everything flees: with the waters, the hours; with the hours, happiness; with happiness, life. Everything flees to merge in the head of Shiva, whose brain is chaos, whose eyes are destruction, and whose essence is nothingness.

IX

The morning star already announces the day; the moon fades like a dissipating illusion, and dreams, those children of darkness, flee with her in fantastic groups. The two lovers still remain under the green fan of a palm tree, silent witness to their love and their vows, when a dull noise rises behind them.

Pulo turns his head, utters a shrill, light cry like that of a jackal, and springs back ten paces in a single leap, simultaneously flashing the blade of his sharp Damascus dagger.

X

What has struck terror into the soul of the brave chieftain? Are the two eyes shining in the darkness those of the striped tiger or the terrible serpent? No. Pulo fears neither the king of the forests nor the king of reptiles; those flame-breathing pupils belong to a man, and that man is his brother.

His brother, whose only love he has stolen; his brother, who has banished him from Orisa; and who, finally, has vowed his death if he ever returns to Kattak, placing his hand on the altar of his God.

XI

Siannah sees him too, feels her blood freezes in her veins, and she stands transfixed, as if Death's hand had grasped her by the hair. The two rivals gaze for a moment at each other from head to toe; they contend with their stares, and then, uttering a hoarse, savage cry, they rush at each other like two leopards vying for prey... Let us draw a veil over the crimes of our ancestors; let us draw a veil over the scenes of mourning and horror caused by the passions of those who are already in the bosom of the Great Spirit.

XII

The sun rises in the East; you would say, seeing it, that the genius of light, the conqueror of shadows, heady with pride and majesty, is launching himself in triumph on his diamond chariot, leaving behind him, like the wake of a ship, the gold dust his steeds raise on the pavement of the heavens. The waters, the forests, the birds, space, and the worlds have but one voice, and this voice intones the hymn of the day. Who does not feel their heart leap with joy at the echoes of this solemn canticle?

XIII

Only one mortal; see him there. His wide eyes are fixed with a stupefied gaze on the blood staining his hands. In vain, emerging from his immobility and seized by a terrible frenzy, he runs to wash them. He runs to the banks of the Jawkior; beneath the crystalline waves, the stains disappear; but no sooner does he withdraw his hands than the blood, steaming and red, stains them again. And he returns to the waves, and the stain reappears, until at last he exclaims in a tone of terrible despair: "Siannah! Siannah! The curse of heaven has fallen upon our heads."

Do you know that wretch, at whose feet lies a corpse and whose knees a woman embraces? He is Pulo-Dheli, king of Orisa, magnificent lord of lords, shadow of God and son of the luminous stars, through the death of his brother and predecessor...

[End of Chapter 1]

*

Ganges: Bécquer seems to locate Cuttack much closer to the Ganges and the Himalayas than it really is (in fact, it is over 400 miles to the south). 

Davalaguiri: i.e. Daulaghiri in Nepal, the world's seventh highest mountain. 

Bermach: apparently the creator-god Brahma. (But Bécquer names him "Brahma" in his other Indian tale, "La Creación".)