The Guest of Suvarnapur A weary waste expanding to the skies: Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see ... Bless’d be that spot, where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their ev’ning fire; Bless’d that abode, where want and pain repair; And every stranger finds a ready chair.¹ Suvarnapur is situated where the river Bhadra meets the Arabian Sea. It is spread out on the slope of a hill cradled by the sea with riverine hands like a child held at the waist. In th­e month of Magha, a vessel laid anchor in the harbour of this town. Small and large boats went up to the vessel to unload its cargo and passengers. Some merchants climbed onto one such boat. A young man got off with them and sat on the side of the boat, as if concealing himself. His eyes moved between the sea and Suvarnapur, almost in response to the boat swaying on the sea waves or like a child imitating the movements of the boat. The man appeared to be twenty-three or twenty-four years of age. His clothes were not bright; his face was withered. While he did not betray signs of dejection, his visage suggested that many a sigh filled his heart. His beauty was illuminating, his features delicate.

These set him apart from the rest of the merchants with their harsh country-folk features, immersed in joyous revelry. The boat came ashore, and passengers disembarked with their bedding and baggage in a hurry. He too walked ashore, melancholic and somewhat indifferent. For a while he stood there, gazing into the distance, his hand on his chin. People were walking in the direction of the town. He slowly began to walk the other way. He walked apart and alone on a road surrounded by an expanse of trees and bushes, like a lone engine on a wide bridge. He carried a small bundle and walked with a steady step, looking in turns at the sky, the earth, the road before him, and behind. The young sun of the early morning suited him, dressed as he was in light clothing, and yet at times a strong gust of wind would force him to cross his arms over his chest. The effort of walking and the sun caused a film of perspiration to appear on his large forehead. His lotus-like face and cheeks turned red. At last, he reached a Shiva temple. Looking around, he entered its gates. This was the temple of Rajeshwar Mahadev. It was built by the ancestors of Buddhidhan, the Counsellor of Suvarnapur. The temple was surrounded by a tiled square, and a roofed corridor bound it. A stone wall plastered with dung, built years ago, skirted this corridor. A small window-like opening led to a courtyard out back. In the courtyard there were fruit and flowering trees appropriate for the worship of Mahadev, as also a bel tree. This courtyard was encircled by a cactus fence with a few gaps in