The Cloud of Longing: A New

Translation and Eco-Aesthetic Study of

Kalidasa's Meghaduta Jarow
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-cloud-of-longing-a-new-translation-and-eco-aesth
etic-study-of-kalidasas-meghaduta-jarow/
The Cloud of Longing
The Cloud of Longing
A New Translation and Eco-​Aesthetic
Study of Kālidāsa’s Meghadūta

E . H . R IC K JA R OW

1
 3
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education
by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University
Press in the UK and certain other countries.

Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press

198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America.

© Oxford University Press 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted
by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction
rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above.

You must not circulate this work in any other form

and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Kālidāsa. author. | Jarow, Rick, translator author of commentary.
Title: The cloud of longing : a new translation and
eco-aesthetic study of Kalidasa’s Meghaduta /
[translation and commentary by] E.H. Rick Jarow.
Other titles: Meghadūta. English
Description: New York : Oxford University Press, 2021. |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021003940 (print) | LCCN 2021003941 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780197566633 (hardback) | ISBN 9780197566640 (paperback) |
ISBN 9780197566664 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Kālidāsa. Meghadūta.
Classification: LCC PK3796. M6 J37 2021 (print) |
LCC PK3796. M6 (ebook) | DDC 891/.21—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021003940
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021003941

DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197566633.001.0001

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Paperback printed by Marquis, Canada
Hardback printed by Bridgeport National Bindery, Inc., United States of America
 For Barbara Stoler Miller, Who Planted the Seed
For Śrīpāda Baba, Who Watered It
For Newman, Who Resides in My Heart of Absence
 Contents

Acknowledgments  ix
Abbreviations  xi
Translation and Transliteration  xiii

Introduction: Why Kālidāsa, Why Now?  1

1. The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa  11
2. Liquid Meaning in Sanskrit Poetics  37
3. Clouds  45
4. Vastunirdeśa  59
5. The Argument  67
6. The Cloud’s Way  77
7. Meteorology and Metaphor  92
8. Alakā  103
9. Critical Considerations  112

Notes  139
Bibliography  173
Index  181
 Acknowledgments

This project spanned many incarnations. Many people were wonderfully

helpful. Thank you to those mentioned and not mentioned here.
Bishvanath Bhattacharya spent his good time with me on his front porch
in Varanasi, discussing Kālidāsa and the Meghadūta, reciting it by rote when
his failing eyes would no longer allow him to read the text.
Paul Sherbow and Frederick Smith both read over the manuscript nu-
merous times and offered cogent suggestions.
Michael Lockaby and Boo Taubman helped lift me out of a paralyzing
painful illness and into functionality.
Michel Taft helped me through, lit a fire under me to bring this work to
completion, and offered numerous helpful suggestions.
Norris Suzanne Carlson went over the translation with me, offered
most helpful critiques and comments, and rearranged word orders toward
intelligibility.
Christopher Key Chapple showed me where this manuscript might find
a home.
The American Institute of Indian Studies offered a grant that allowed me
to pursue commentaries on the Meghadūta.
Shrivatsa Goswami engaged me in ongoing discussions on the relation-
ship between kāvya and bhakti.
Esalen Institute offered me a scholars-​in-​residence fellowship, where the
project in its final form was reborn.
Carioca Freitas and the Living Love Circle reacquainted me with the music
of Pachamama.
Bonnie Ann Burnett, Roselyn Myers, and Skip Schukmann opened the
door to the wonders of the earth, introducing me to the beings in the garden.
Oxford University Press graciously took on the publication of this work.
 Abbreviations

AIOC All India Oriental Conference

AV Atharva Veda
BG Bhagavadgītā
BHP Bhāgavatapurāṇa
Dhvan. Dhvanyāloka
JOIB Journal of the Orientl Institute of Baroda
MBH Mahābhārata
MANU The Law Code of Manu (Manava Dharmaśāstra)
Megh. Meghadūta
MW Sanskrit-​English Dictionary by Sir M. Monier-​Williams
NS Nāṭyaśāstra
VR Vālmīki-​Rāmȳaṇa
YS Yoga-​Sūtra of Patañjali
 Translation and Transliteration

Translations of passages in this volume are credited either with endnote

references or in parentheses immediately following the text. Unless other-
wise indicated, all translations are mine.
I have omitted the diacritics for retroflex consonants in all proper names
for the sake of the English reader. All transliterated words are italicized with
the exception of capitalized proper names, places, well-​known texts, and
words that are used as English adjectives (e.g., Vedic, Purāṇic, etc.).
 Introduction
Why Kālidāsa, Why Now?

There are two post-​Kālidāsa narratives that I know of about a person going
into a deep state of ex-​stasis at the sight of a cloud. I use the Greek “ex-​tasis,”
as opposed to the English “ecstasy” in order to tune both the word and the
situation to a somewhat different pitch; it is not clear exactly what emotions
and contexts are at play. The first belongs to Mādhavendra Purī, an associate
of the 1500s saint Caitanya, who was considered by his followers to be an in-
carnation of Krishna, in the mood of his premiere devotee and manifestation
of his “bliss-​energy” (hlādinī śakti), Rādhā.
Mādhavendra Purī saw the rain cloud as blue-​black, as śyāma, having
the same color as Krishna, and thus fell into a swoon of remembrance.
A few hundred years later, a young Gadadhar Chatterjee (later known as
Ramakrishna) fainted at the site of a dark storm cloud, whether it was from
its beauty or from pure remembrance is not clear, but the Welsh poet Robert
Graves’s commentary on the incident may be telling.1 Graves, in his opus,
The White Goddess, sees Ramakrishna as a pure ecstatic who was colonized
by the Brahminical hierarchy to further cement its authority and influence,
noting, like William Blake did before him, how the purity of poetic genius
can become entrapped in theologies and their power-​based structures.
A number of winters ago, I gave my first public presentation at an an-
nual meeting of the American Academy of Religion held in San Francisco
(speaking of poetic cities). I gave a paper on Hanumān’s (“Voyage by the Mind
through a Sea of Stars”) journey to Śrī Laṅkā in the Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki.
The designated respondent commented, not in an outright derogatory tone,
that I was seemingly “transported” while reciting what he considered to be
another version of Eliade’s “Magical Flight” archetype (the voyaging, sha-
manic Hanumān being compared to a shape-​shifting cloud). I responded, “If
one is not transported by this material, what is the point in working with it?”
Perhaps this anecdote exemplifies how the overwhelming scholarship on
India tends toward the prosaic, for this arena has been the Western area of

The Cloud of Longing. E.H. Rick Jarow, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2021.
DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197566633.003.0001
2 The Cloud of Longing

strength and understanding (as well as colonization). The poetic and aes-
thetic darshans, or viewpoints, of India have been catalogued and classified,
but there almost seems to be an embarrassment around their ex-​tasis, their
“hyperbolic” emotion (as the prominent Sanskrit scholar, A. A. Macdonell
put it when he spoke of the “lovelorn damsels in Sanskrit literature”).2 My
charge here is to open and intrinsically explore this aesthetic dimension, this
experience of rasa, the liquid mellow of aesthetic ex-​tasis, which from the be-
ginning of the classical Indian tradition was said to be the goal of any valuable
work of art. This work is neither a history nor a critical study of the vast arena
of Indian aesthetics; rather, it is a journey into the experience of rasa through
one classical Sanskrit poem. It is written for lovers of literature in general (as
opposed to Indologists or Sanskritists) and seeks to claim a place for Sanskrit
aesthetics and its variant sensibilities in the arena of world literatures. In ad-
dition to this, and perhaps most importantly, it seeks to articulate a vision of
nature that can add depth, richness, subtlety, and even transformation to our
culture’s habitual way of viewing and experiencing the natural world.
At the center of this project is the remarkable experience of rasa, a flow
of expanded feeling—​envisioned not merely as a spontaneous outburst of
expression but also as a sensitive-​hearted response that could be cultivated
through caring discipline. Kālidāsa’s Meghadūta, an entire poem whose pro-
tagonist is a cloud, has long been considered a major work capable of engen-
dering such an aesthetic experience in someone who has taken the time and
energy to work with it. Let us therefore open to a text and a tradition that is
not only formally intricate and grand but that can be savored in the here and
now as well, for such is the intention of this volume. With all respect to the
tremendous work that has been done in cataloging and exploring the im-
mense field of Sanskrit literature, I specifically focus here on a sustained close
reading of the Meghadūta in order to share how it may speak to contempo-
rary readers as well as to concerns about the experience of the natural world.
We hold traces of Kāvya (classical Indian court poetry) through
manuscripts, printed books, and in digital archives. The way and context
in which these genres were produced are not fully clear to contemporary
scholars or to residents of South Asia. There are varieties of conjectures about
Kāvya based on manuscript evidence (not minimal, but not overwhelming)
that do make some sense, but it is sobering to realize how little actually re-
mains from the classical tradition.3 From this, contemporary scholars and
critics have identified a skeletal canon of authors and their poetic and dra-
matic works, depicting classical India through a combination of received epic
 Introduction 3

narratives, mythic compendiums (Purāṇa), and court poems of linguistic

virtuosity (Kāvya). Periodic attempts to revive traditions of Sanskrit drama
in India come and go; the great film versions of epic and dramatic literatures
on television and in cinema, however, have had significant mass impact and
may now be primary vehicles for the transmission of classical Sanskrit texts.
The fact remains, however, that we do not fully know what Sanskrit poetry
and drama might have been in their day. That is, the historical and social con-
text of their creation and performance is obscure. The majority of historians
and scholars do generally agree, however, that Kālidāsa was active during the
reign of Chandragupta II, who ruled most of northern India from circa 375
ce to 415 ce . Kālidāsa is believed to have been a court poet, receiving royal
patronage and articulating the “high-​cultural” Sanskritic norms of his epoch.
The earliest actual references to the poet are found in a Sanskrit inscription
dated 473 ce, at Mandsaur’s sun temple in Madhya Pradesh, with verses that
imitate both the Meghadūta and Ṛtusaṃhāra.4 An inscription on the shrine
of Aihole (634 ce), praising him as a “great poet,” establishes his latest pos-
sible date.5
The evolution of Kāvya through later languages can certainly be (and has
been) documented, and we can make relatively educated suppositions about
their contexts and functions. As the tradition developed, the texts of Kālidāsa
were considered “classics.”6 Such a label already indicates a significant con-
textual shift from previous interpretive communities as the texts morphed
through time and space.
Kālidāsa traveled West through the translations and writings of Sir William
Jones, H. H. Wilson, and Goethe, becoming known as the “Shakespeare of
India”—​an emblem of an imagined high culture, an icon.7 Such “great works”
now appear in a new context: required reading for Indian literature courses,
and occasionally, perhaps, in a “world classics” compendium.
Kālidāsa serves as a standard of literary virtuosity and depth, but the
world he wrote about has faded into the shadows of collective memory (or
rather, forgetfulness). This world may have been portrayed as an ideal one,
and perhaps it never existed at any time. Kāvya, like the bear-​hunting ritual
described by Jonathan Z. Smith, may in fact depict more of a paradigmatic
vision of how things could or should be than one with any phenomenological
accuracy.8
My mentor, from Banaras Hindu University, Bishvanath Bhattacharya,
once remarked that one cannot find the “fine stuccoed roofs of Ujjain”
described in the Meghadūta no matter how hard one looks for them.
4 The Cloud of Longing

Nevertheless, Kālidāsa’s world lives on and morphs through one context after
another. Hence, when I use the word “Kālidāsa,” I am not referring to an in-
dividual but rather to an emblem on a series of texts that may reflect a collec-
tive integration of Indian classical culture. Indeed, there are some scholars of
Indian literature who have put forth theories of “multiple Kālidāsas.”9
The later commentaries, and much later theories of literature that make
extensive use of verses from Kālidāsa, may also fall—​if not under—​certainly
alongside this label. The way in which such ideals live and morph is cru-
cial to this project, for it is not so much that I may be taking Kālidāsa out of
context—​his works are already out of context—​as that I am taking them out
of their currently accustomed frames of discourse in order to establish what
I believe to be one of significant relevance. All of this, then, leads to the ques-
tion, “Why Kālidāsa, why now?”
I would be most disingenuous if I professed the academic project to be
free of its times and concerns; be it history, politics, or economies. The early
Orientalists who dug into the mine of Sanskrit literature had their agendas,
as have the following generations of Indologists, scholars of Sanskrit, and
contemporary scholars of religion and literature. In most of these cases,
Indian poetics and drama have been left in the background, with philosophy,
religion, linguistics, and social ethnography occupying the foreground. So,
why pay attention to this Kāvya, and why now? After all, the Meghadūta of
Kālidāsa is not unknown or new. It is most likely a fourth-​century work and
has been translated numerous times into English and other languages. There
is H. H. Wilson’s poetic flight in the 1800s; M. R. Kale’s chock-​full of notes
edition for students first published in 1916; Franklin Edgerton’s literal trans-
lation in the 1940s; S. K. De’s scholarly critical edition of the text in the 1950s;
and, in the 1970s, Leonard Nathan’s credible and poetically breathtaking ver-
sion, which is the most figuratively if not literally accurate translation I know
of.10 Lately, one can find some really good, and some not so good, versions of
the text on line. These translations have been preceded by scores of Sanskrit
commentaries from Dakṣiṇāvartanātha, to Mallinātha, to a most unusual
Bengali commentary, the Tātparyadīpikā, attributed to the Vaishnava the-
ologian Sanātana Gosvāmin.11 Most recently, the industry of translating
classical Indian texts has been inspired by competing publishing companies,
who want their version of the current “Great Books of the East” or now “Asia”
to spread. Perhaps the recent work of Sheldon Pollock and others to trans-
late and present a much larger corpus of Indian literatures may be a major
departure from this. My focus, here, will be solely on the Meghadūta as an
 Introduction 5

icon of the classical aesthetic sensibility. Still, Kālidāsa’s work rarely makes
it onto anyone’s short list. Rather it sits like most Kāvyas on bookshelves as
some sort of quaint curio, a beautiful but irrelevant artifact of an aristocratic
culture that is generally out of favor with both the left-​leaning hallways of
the academy and the right-​leaning government institutes of Sanskrit studies.
While it is used as a text to study in some Sanskrit classes (because of its
sheer beauty and manageability of volume) its figurative detail and extended
metaphorical complexity reward sustained retroactive reading. Moreover,
working with the text requires a more than basic knowledge of Sanskrit, as
well as a familiarity with the Indian epics and the cultural mythos that pro-
duced them.12
I doubt that anyone can claim to be cognizant of their complete agenda
in engaging such materials, but I think it is incumbent upon one to give an
open and serious account of the why and wherefore. I believe one can make
a contemporary case, if not for Kāvya in general, then for Kālidāsa and the
Meghadūta in particular. Hence let me outline the rationale of this study. I go
back to the fourth century because the poetry of Kālidāsa remains unpar-
alleled; because there has been little critical work published on Kāvya out-
side of the commentarial traditions (much more work has been done on
drama or Nāṭya than poetry and poetics); and because it offers a vision of the
relationships between language, emotive feeling, and the natural world that
can speak to and even educate contemporary sensibilities. Kāvya, which may
be thought of as literature as art, predates and postdates Kālidāsa, of course,
and appears in a number of languages as well as regions. Likewise, critical
discussions on poetics both predate and continue as a part of the process of
engaging Kāvya.13 Kālidāsa, however, resides in the middle of all this, almost
like a fulcrum that balances a very particular sensibility.
The study of and attention given to the Meghadūta need not be then a
part of a quaint Orientalism that wants to laud an India of old or exalt the
beauty and wisdom of the past. Such projects have their own rationales
and arenas of function. If one pays attention to classical Indian categories,
however, it is understood that what was, comes around again.14 This is ar-
guably the case with the Meghadūta, and perhaps with the Ṛtusaṁhāra and
Kumārasambhava (other poetic works of Kālidāsa) as well, for the darshans
(darśanas, or visions) of nature offered in these texts are extraordinary in
their breadth and sensibility. The Meghadūta in particular, envisions the nat-
ural world as something much more than a backdrop for human subjects
to live out their lives. Its sense of nature, moreover, is more integrated than
6 The Cloud of Longing

in romantic notions of paradisiac beauty or of abject terror projected onto

landscapes. Rather, nature, as experienced through Meghadūta, is a tapestry
of myth, memory, substance, feeling, form, and space. The landscape is si-
multaneously the mindscape, meteorology is metaphor, and neither psyche
nor soma is absolutely apart from one another. In, around, and throughout
this, as Barbara Stoler Miller astutely remarked, is the “unmanifest cosmic
unity” of Śiva.15 While this “unity” is rarely depicted literally (a doctrinal im-
possibility in any case), its presence pervades the landscapes, mindscapes,
and mythscapes of the text. Let me say, at the outset, that this mytho-​cosmic
sensibility that pervades the poetic realms of Kālidāsa is not an exception but
the rule. To call it “religious” or even “spiritual” would reduce the wondrous
complexity and interweaving of imagination, epic history, and immanent di-
vinity that make up this narrative.
For those not familiar with the text, the Meghadūta, or Cloud Messenger,
is a short lyric poem (Kaṇḍa-​Kāvya) about a lovelorn Yaksha (a somewhat
minor spirit being) living in a mountainous exile separated from his mate. In
a fever of emotional anguish, he spies a floating cloud and asks it to deliver a
message to his beloved. Addressing the Cloud as a person, the Yaksha then
describes, in amazing detail, the route the Cloud will have to take to get to his
home, the city of Alakā; the abode of Kubera, keeper of the wealth of the gods
and lord of the Yakshas. The first and longer part of the poem describes the
various landscapes that the Cloud will travel through, while the second part
of the poem describes the city of Alakā itself and the imagined delivery of the
message to his beloved.
The poetic envisioning of the landscapes, as well as its amazing integra-
tion of feeling and form, is my prime reason for reintroducing this work of
Kālidāsa (whom it has been my pleasure and privilege to read for decades)
into the conversations of the literary humanities. In a world that has moved
toward cultural connectedness, a contemporary person educated in the
Western humanities, who has read Homer, Shakespeare, and Milton, should
ideally also have read Kālidāsa.
The Meghadūta, however, has significance beyond being a major work of
classical India’s most iconic literary figure. It offers more than a lyrical look
at the life and times of a poet or of a culture; it also offers a way of looking
through nature that can inform and inspire our efforts to reorient ourselves
in the natural world. This is a primary value and focus that will be explored in
detail in this volume.16
 Introduction 7

As a contemporary Western reader, I have no choice but to filter my

reading of Kālidāsa through a postmodern lens, but I have done my best
to not use the work of the poet to prove any particular contemporary con-
tention. The translations are done scrupulously and thoroughly. The major
Indian commentators have been consulted in every instance, and more ob-
scure commentaries have been consulted as well. I do reserve the right, how-
ever, to translate in a less than literal way when necessary. To my mind, this
preserves and transmits the sensibility of the text much more than choppy
literal translations that do not read well in English. On the other hand, any
place where I have taken license can be clearly justified by and found in the
actual text (and discussed in the notes). This is translation, not transcreation,
although a good argument can be made that any serious translation is a
transcreation.
Still, my intention here is not to present Kālidāsa as he was heard in the
royal courts of the Guptas, for I do not think that is possible, and it holds
no more than academic interest for me. Rather I present Kālidāsa because
he speaks to me in a way that very few Western poets have. Through the
Meghadūta, I have learned to look at and experience the natural world in
a radically different way, and this is what I seek to convey in this translation
and reflection. For its sheer beauty; for its remarkable discourse on ecolog-
ical poetics; for its instruction in integrating sound, cadence, sense, and sen-
sibility; and for its “tantric” perspective, the Meghadūta may be unparalleled.
I will discuss the “tantric” perspective in detail later on. Let me briefly expli-
cate what I mean by this much used (and often maligned) Indian word that
has entered the contemporary lexicon.
The “tantric” sensibility (versus a particular lineage of practice) is one
of transcendence within immanence. It does not privilege a disembodied
consciousness existing beyond the phenomenal world. Rather it weaves (to
weave,√tan, being at the root of the word tantra) a vision of the world and
awareness as non-​different. And yet difference remains. When I first began to
read and study the Meghadūta with Bishvanath Bhattacharya, he remarked
about the text one day, “How can you deny multiplicity?”
Indeed, the weaving of unity and multiplicity, presence and absence, may
be the great triumph of the Meghadūta. There have been numerous Indian
philosophical positions that declare the non-​duality of duality, from the
Mādhyamika’s rūpaṁ śūnyataiva śūnyataiva rūpam (form is emptiness, emp-
tiness is form) to Gauḍīya theologian Jīva Gosvāmin’s acintya-​bhedābheda-​
tattva (inconceivably one and different), but Kālidāsa puts meat on these
8 The Cloud of Longing

bones. He illustrates and demonstrates the interpenetration of awareness

and phenomena and, in doing so, exposes many of the pitfalls of falling to
one side of this notion. One may argue that Kālidāsa’s world is fundamen-
tally dualistic, but figuration of any kind already begins to bend categories of
separateness. Moreover, the fact that Kālidāsa explicitly challenges the reality
of literal representation places him in the rasa-​dhvani aesthetics camp, one
which offers aesthetic rapture, to borrow Masson and Patwardhan’s term, as
a way through realms of temporality and incompleteness. To be clear, I am
not claiming any particular spiritual agenda or formal affiliation for Kālidāsa
(even though Śiva is clearly the dominant divinity in his work). He is writing
as a poet, not as a philosopher or spiritual teacher. It is just this, however, “the
aesthetic,” that has been chronically and characteristically shortchanged, and
the point of rasa theory is to exalt the aesthetic and acknowledge its spiritual
dimensions. Citra-​kāvya, or “ornamentation for its own sake,” or for the sake
of virtuosity, is constantly disparaged by the Sanskrit poeticians as inferior.
Rasa, on the other hand, is seen as the central transformation of emotion to
sublime heights, and, in this sense, it carries on the Vedic trope of rasa as im-
mortal nectar.17
In any case, one can say from the invocation at the beginning of Śākuntala
that Kālidāsa was a worshipper of Śiva, in his manifest forms; and one can
say from the denouements of his plays that the redeeming presence of Śakti,
of the feminine, is ubiquitous in his work, but Kālidāsa’s tantric sensibility
exceeds arguments of linear history or textual content because they are largely
stylistic: the collapsing of contraries through sustained metaphor; the thrill
of the sights, sounds, tastes, and touches of the sensory world; the depiction
of mountains and rivers in erotic congress; and the awareness of nature in
divinity, as well as divinity in nature, all point toward tantric leanings.18 Here
is where literary studies and intrinsic literary studies in particular can make
a contribution to discussions of oneness and difference. They can combat the
dominance of unqualified historicism and the concomitant assumption that
its chronological logic stands above, or informs, other forms of discourse.
While the question of when the plays were written, under what dynasty, and
the like are not unimportant, they are ultimately extrinsic to the work, which
operates through an associative trans-​textual logic. This sense also allows
one to understand the way such a text may morph through different inter-
pretive communities in different times and places. Just as Harold Bloom can
declare that, ultimately, there is only an oral Torah, prevailing notions of just
what is intrinsic or extrinsic may depend on how a particular community
 Introduction 9

receives a text. Rawson’s popular work on tantra speaks to this when he

discusses the tantric view of time as one that openly faces the maw of dissolu-
tion rather than seeks some separated vantage point of observation.19 Hence,
the method I argue for here is to read Kālidāsa closely as a “you” versus an “it”
to borrow Martin Buber’s terminology.20
Most importantly perhaps, Kālidāsa’s poetic sensibility offers a specific vi-
sion of the natural world that we may do well to revisit. It is one that does
not separate the word from the tongue, la parole from la langue. It does not
seek to de-​shroud the word of its mystery to reveal “meaning.” Rather, mys-
tery, erotic mystery in particular, is at the very core of language, which is at
the very core of the natural world. To separate language from love is to move
from the poetic to the prosaic; and while works of this kind are necessarily
prosaic, I try to frame this one in a way that least violates the precincts of the
poetic.
After all, this is the crux of the Meghadūta’s argument. Those afflicted by
love no longer distinguish the animate from the inanimate, no longer con-
sent to the atrophy of the imagination. Their world flows through the heart,
as well as through the mind, and their words consequently are to be “tasted,”
not interpreted. The idea of language as purely conventional could only occur
to someone like Descartes; that is, to someone living locked away in a room.
From a tantric point of view, the movement to withdraw from the senses is
not any different than being captivated by them, for ultimately, the world we
see is the world we are.
The Meghadūta sees a world at play, but it is not necessarily free play. The
text is well aware of the tug of the opposites. There is fear and danger as well as
openness and freedom; there is display as well as shame, flights of fancy, and
flights away from predators. Because all of this is moving in time, nothing
stands still; no vision of the natural world is ultimate, just as no season can
last forever. Moreover, the entire landscape of the Meghadūta is imagined; it
is seen through the mind of the protagonist, an exiled Yaksha.
On the one hand, the imprint of nature is extraordinary. How could
someone have such a finely tuned memory where every detail of sight
and sound—​the dew drops in the wind, the rumbling of different types of
thunder, throngs of birds floating by on their way—​are perfectly remem-
bered? Maybe there is a faculty of seeing here that we are generally not ac-
customed to. The twentieth-​century magician Aleister Crowley is said to
have trained his visualizing capacities by playing two games of chess with
two different people at once, thus learning to envision every piece on the two
10 The Cloud of Longing

boards without his physical presence. This is again, however, assuming the
primacy of matter. What if, as from the Platonic perspective, the ideas are
primary? What if the imagined tree is just as substantial as the physical tree?
Texts like the Yoga Vāsiṣṭha, in India, constantly challenge the notion that
physical reality is fundamentally different than imagined reality. From the
point of view of death, both a dream and a life are said to be qualitatively
similar. All this is to iterate the aesthetic perspective that imagination is not
necessarily a detour or a modality to help enforce moral truths. And the lan-
guage of the Meghadūta is not as much about something (representation) as
it is, itself, something—​working with meter, sonoric and semantic figuration
to incarnate a powerful and prevailing mood that can transport the sensitive
heart (suhṛdaya). Let us begin this pilgrimage of imagination by traveling
through the poem itself and then looking into the rich theoretical discourse
of Sanskrit poetics to have some frame of reference for Kālidāsā’s project.
What follows is a translation of 111 verses of the Meghadūta. There may
indeed be more (or less) verses, as S. K. De enumerates in his critical edition
of the text. I am following the lineage of Western translators here (Edgerton,
Nathan) for the sake of consistency. Some versions of the text separate the
pūrva and uttara Megha, “early” and “later” sections. I have (again following
recent translators) kept one unified work. Each verse of Kāvya is sometimes
referred to as a flawless pearl, and I have done my best to convey this sense
in the translation. Here, I offer the Meghadūta, the voyage by a cloud over
landscapes of India, as imagined by a lovelorn Yaksha in the anguish of sepa-
ration from his beloved.
 1
The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa

A Yaksha, banished in grievous exile from his beloved for a year,

his power eclipsed by the curse of his Lord for having swerved from his duty,
made his dwelling among the hermitages of Rāmagiri,
whose waters were hallowed by the ablutions of Janaka’s daughter
and whose trees were rich with shade.1

On that hill, lovelorn and months from his mate;

his wrist so wasted that it had shed its golden bracelet,
he saw during the full moon of Āṣāḍha, a Cloud nuzzling a mountain ridge
like a handsome elephant playfully butting the side of a hill.2

Standing up, somehow, before the source of his kindled longing,

this follower of Kubera pondered deeply, his tears held back.
The sight of a cloud moves the mind of even a happy man;
what then of one who longs for his far distant lover’s embrace?

The rains now at hand, longing to sustain his beloved’s life,

and wishing the life-​giving Cloud to carry news of his welfare,
he performed the argha offering with fresh kuṭaja blossoms,
and turning toward it in delight, spoke pleasing words of welcome.3

The Cloud of Longing. E.H. Rick Jarow, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2021.
DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780197566633.003.0002
12 The Cloud of Longing

What does a cloud, blend of smoke, flame, water, and wind, have to do
with meaningful messages meant to be conveyed by the fit senses of the living?
Heedless of this from ardent fervor, the Yaksha made his request.
For lovers afflicted by passion can no longer tell the aware from the inert.

I know you as the chief minister of Indra,

born into a line of great swirling thunderclouds
renowned throughout the world, able to take any form at will.
So, I, far from my beloved by a decree of fate, come to you as a supplicant:
Better a vain plea to the qualified, than a fruitful one to the vulgar.4

O Cloud, refuge of those who burn in torment, take a message for me

cut off from my beloved by Kubera’s fury. Go to the abode known as Alakā,
where the mansions of the Yaksha lords are rinsed by moonbeams
from the crest of Śiva’s brow, who resides in an outlying pleasure grove.5

The wives of travelers, the ends of their hair blown undone, will behold
you, risen on the path of the wind, and will take heart in your promise.
Who, when you are ready to rain, would overlook his beloved suffering alone,
were it not someone like me whose life is bound to the will of another?6

Ever gently, a favorable breeze wafts you

as on your left, your kin the cātaka sweetly sings,
and the cranes, knowing it is just mating time,
will serve you as stunning garlands in the sky.7
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 13

10

Surely, my Brother, on your clear way, you will see

your brother’s wife, my true love, still alive and eagerly counting the days.
The love-​filled heart of a woman, like a tender flower
fast to fall in despair, is sustained by the bond of hope.8

11

And hearing that blessed thunder

filling the earth to overflow with kandalī flowers, the royal swans
who long for Lake Mānasa, holding bits of lotus stalks as provisions
for their journey, will become your companions in the sky.9

12

Having embraced your dear friend, the mountain, whose girded

slopes are marked by Rāma’s blessed feet (praised by men)
bid farewell to this lofty peak, which, reuniting with you in every season
shows its love, born of long absence, by shedding hot tears.

13

Listen now, O Water Giver, while I tell you the right way to set out
on your path. You shall hear my message, so sweet to the ear
Take this path, resting your foot on mountains when worn with fatigue
and enjoying the pure water of streams whenever weary.10

14

Fly up from this place of sap-​laden nicula stalks to the north sky,
your steady advance witnessed in amazement by simple siddha women,
their faces turned upward to see if the wind has carried off the mountain peak,
avoiding on your way the insolent brush of the sky-​elephant’s coarse trunks.11
14 The Cloud of Longing

15

There, before you, risen from the top of an ant-​hill, is a piece of Indra’s bow
like a splendid blend of gleaming gems; by which your dark body
will take on a charm, like Vishnu in the guise of Krishna the cowherd,
with his peacock feather of shimmering luster.12

16

Drunk in by the love-​moistened eyes of country women, unschooled

in the art of flirting, who think the success of the crop depends upon you,
soar to the high field of Māla, fragrant from the fresh furrows of the plow.
Then, after backing up westward, take a lighter stride and go farther north.13

17

Its forest fires quenched by your downpour, the mango tipped mountain
Āmrakūṭa, will gladly carry you, weary from your journey, onto its lofty peak.
Not even a low life, remembering past favors, would turn his face
away from a friend seeking shelter, how much less one who is lofty.

18

When you, glistening as a darkly oiled braid of hair, have climbed

the mountain peak, its slopes covered by the glow of ripening mango forests,
like a great breast of earth, dark at its center and pale gold around the crest,
surely you will entrance the gaze of the enrapt celestial couples.14

19

Staying awhile on that mountain, whose groves gladden the women of the
forest
and having thereafter crossed the path beyond it at a quickened pace,
your waters released, you will see at the jagged foot of the Vindhya
Mountains
the Revā River scattered like streaks of ash painted on the limbs of an
elephant.15
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 15

20

Having shed your rain and taken her water, its course clogged
by rose-​apple bowers and fragrant with the rut of wild elephants, go now,
O Cloud, filled so thick with delicious water that the wind cannot bear you.
Indeed, the empty is always light while the full is heavy.

21

Seeing the russet and green nīpa flower with half-​grown shoots
and the kandalī’s first buds appearing on every bank, scenting
the richly fragrant earth in charred forests, the dappled deer
will trace the path of your falling rain.16

22

I foresee, Friend, that though you want to go quickly for the sake of my beloved,
you may dally on this or that mountain peak, fragrant with kakubha flowers.
Welcomed by peacocks with moistened eyes, their cries risen to greet you,
I pray that you somehow find the will to quickly move on.17

23

When you come into the vicinity of the Daśārṇa country,

its garden groves bursting white with fully blown ketaka blossoms
and its village trees overwhelmed by the nest-​building clamor of crows,
the rims of the rose apple forests will be dark with ripening fruits,18
while the approaching swans linger there for a few days.

24

Coming toward the stretch of the royal city, Vidiśā,

whose name is everywhere renowned,
you will quickly gain the full fruit of your longing
as you drink the savory water of the Vetravatī,
her rippling waves like knit brows on a frowning face
at your soft rumbling thunder along her banks.19
16 The Cloud of Longing

25

You should stop to rest, there, on the low peak of Nīcais

with kadamba flowers sprung to full blossom like thrilled hairs at your touch,
and with stone grottos exuding the love perfume of bought women,
which heralds the wild youth of the townsmen.20

26

Being restored, go forth, sprinkling with fresh water droplets

the clusters of jasmine buds that grow by the forest streams and pleasure
groves
offering your fleeting shade to the faces of flower girls, whose lotus
ear-​clasps
fade in anguish when they brush sweat from their cheeks.

27

Although the path swerves from your northward course, do not turn
away from the friendly white-​roofed mansions of Ujjayinī. If you are not
delighted there by the eyes of the townswomen their restless corners
startled by your quivering flashes of lightening, then you have been
cheated.21

28

Coming to the course of the Nirvindhyā, whose waistband is a row of

birds
resounding at her tremoring waves as she glides along in lovely curves
that reveal the whirlpool curl of her naval, be suffused with the bliss of her
liquid essence, for women’s first expressions of love are a playful allure
before their lovers.22
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 17

29

Having gone by her, O Fortunate One, you alone will have to find
the means to relieve the river of her exhaustion. Her lovelorn state
indicating
your good fortune, her stream like a slim braid of hair with a pale
complexion
of faded leaves fallen from the trees arisen along her banks.

30

Reaching the land of Avantī, whose village elders know well the story of
Udayana,
go toward the illustrious city of Viśālā (whose glory I have spoken of),
which is like a splendid fragment of heaven brought down by the
lingering merits
of celestial denizens fallen to earth, the fruits of their virtue exhausted.23

31

Where, at daybreak, the breeze from Śiprā that lengthens the dazzling,
sweet cooing of cranes, is perfumed by the fragrant touch of burst-​open
lotuses,
like a lover’s pleading enticements gladdening the body
and driving away the languor of love-​withered women.24

32

The aromatic powder that women use to dress their hair drifts up
through lattice windows and swells your body. The peacocks
out of great love for you, their friend, welcome you with dance offerings.
Weary from the long road, pass the night on palace rooftops, scented
with flowers and stained with red lac from the feet of lovely women.25
18 The Cloud of Longing

33

Gazed upon with wonder by the minions of Śiva, who see you
as having the same hue as their Lord’s throat, you may come to the holy
abode of the Master of the Three Worlds and Lord of the fierce goddess,
Caṇḍī. Its pleasure groves, stirred by the breezes of the Gandhavatī,
are heavy with lotus pollen and pungent from the bathing perfume
of delighted young women frolicking in the water.26

34

Even having set down at Mahākāla at another time, O Water Bearer,

you should stay there until the bright sun has moved beyond your vision,
performing the evening worship of the trident bearing Śiva as his
celebrated drum.
You will thus attain the full reward of your deep and mellow thunder.27

35

The dancing girls, there, belts tinkling with their dance steps,
hands weary
from the yak tail fans with sparkling gem-​studded handles they playfully
wave
receiving the first drops of your rain, so soothing to their nail-​scratched
skin,
will cast sidelong glances at you like a long row of bees.

36

Then, overspread as a circle on the lofty forests of his arms,

taking on the glow of twilight, red as the fresh bloom of the china rose,
fulfill the Lord of Beast’s wish for the bloody elephant hide drum
as he begins his dance, your devotion seen by Bhavānī
with steady eyes, her trembling now calmed.28
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 19

37

There, with the gleam of your lightning like a streak of gold on

touchstone;
where the royal highway is so sealed by darkness that a pin could
pierce it;
light the way by night for young women off to the abodes of their lovers,
withhold your thunder and downpour, for they are timid ones.

38

Having spent the night on the turret of some house where pigeons are
asleep,
your consort the lightning exhausted from long flashes of love,
complete the rest of your journey when the sun again rises.
Those who make their friends’ needs their sworn duty surely do
not tarry.

39

At that time, the tears of spurned women should be soothed by their

lovers.
So quickly abandon the sun’s path, for he too returns to wipe away the
tears of dew
from the face of the red lotus and would be greatly incensed if you hin-
dered his rays.

40

The mirrored shadow of your-​self, still pleasing by nature, will find

entrance into the waters of the deep Gambhīrā as into a gracious heart.
Do not therefore, out of stoic reserve, dismiss her glances—​
flirting flashes of leaping minnows bright as water lilies.29
20 The Cloud of Longing

41

Taking her blue water garment, slipped down from her resisting
curved banks, whose cane branches are like hands clutching what is left,
how will you, hanging over her, friend, take your leave? Who—​having
known such a taste—​could leave behind a girl with her hips unveiled?

42

A low wind, ripening wild fig forests, will gently urge you toward Devagiri,
the Mount of the Gods, so sweet from the earth’s fragrant touch,
swollen from your showers, and drunk in by elephants
with gentle rumblings from their trunks.

43

There, having turned yourself into a cloud of flowers, bathe divine Skanda
(who has taken a permanent abode there) with a shower of blossoms
moist from heavenly Gaṅgā water. For he was that shining seed
surpassing
the sun, cast into the mouth of Agni by Śiva, the bearer of the crescent,
to protect the armies of Indra.30

44

Then with your thunder caught and echoed out by the mountain, you may
inspire
Skanda’s peacock to dance, the corners of his eyes rinsed with the
gleaming
light of Hara’s moon and his molted tail ringed with streaks of light.
Bhavānī,
for love of her son, places a feather on her ear, by the blue lotus there.31
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 21

45

This much of your journey done,

having propitiated the God Born of the Reeds,
as lute -​bearing siddha couples fearing your raindrops escape your path,
drop down to honor the glory of Rantideva, sprung from the sacrifice
of cows
and changed into the form of a river on earth.32

46

When you stoop down to take the water, stealing the Bow Wielder’s hue,
the sky-​goers, their gaze focused, will surely see the course
of the broad river from afar as narrow as the earth’s
lone string of pearls with a thick sapphire in the middle.33

47

Crossing that river, go on making your orb-​like self the target

of the curious glances of the Daśapura women—​who are well versed
in playful movements of their eyebrow creepers and whose dark
and radiant pupils flash upward through their raised lashes
rivaling the beauty of black bees swaying on white jasmine.34

48

Plunging then, with your shadow upon the land of Brahmāvarta,

You’d do well to worship the Field of the Kurus, which still echoes
the epic
battle, where Arjuna, wielder of the Gāṇḍīva bow, rained down
piercing arrows by the hundreds upon the faces of the warrior kings
as you do on lotuses with your torrential showers.35
22 The Cloud of Longing

49

Having taken the waters of the Sarasvatī, my Gentle Friend,

which plough-​bearing Balarāma took, turning away from battle for love of
his kin,
and letting go of the savory wine marked by the eyes of his beloved Revatī,
you too shall become pure within, being only dark in hue.36

50

From there you should go toward Kanakhala, where the daughter

of Jahnu descending from the mountain-​king, Himālaya, formed a
heavenward
stairway for Sagara’s sons. And who, as if laughing with her foam
at the frown set on Gaurī’s face, seized Śiva’s hair, her hand-​waves
clinging to his crescent moon.37

51

With your fore-​part swaying sidelong in the sky like the divine elephant,
Airāvata,
if you might think to drink her water, brilliant as clear crystal, gliding into
her
current, suddenly so lovely by your reflected shadow, she will be enrapt
in delight, as if her merging with Yamunā occurred at another place.38

52

Having attained the lofty unmoving source of that river, gleaming

with frost, its rocks scented by the musk from their seated deer, nestled
on its peak to lighten the weariness of your way, you will assume a beauty
like the soft mud dug up by the White Bull of Śiva, the Three-​Eyed One.39
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 23

53

If, when the wind stirs, a forest fire should threaten that mountain
born from the chafing pine branches, scorching the thick tails of yaks with
flame,
you should fully extinguish it with a thousand torrents of water.
For the wealth of the lofty lies in allaying the pain of the afflicted.

54

There, the Śarabhas might suddenly attack you, leaping up

in fury at the release of your thunder, only to shatter their own limbs.
Scatter them apart with heavy showers of hard hail.
Who, if their efforts are fruitless, would not be an object of ridicule?40

55

There, bowed in devotion, you should circle round the footprint

of moon-​crested Śiva, manifest in a stone, ever overflowing
with offerings by the perfected Siddhas. The faithful, when they see it,
are shaken free of their sins, and are free to attain his abode
as his eternal attendants once their bodies fall away.

56

Hollow bamboos filled with breezes pulsate sweetly.

Celestial Kinnara women passionately sing of the conquest of Tripura.
If your rumbling thunder should sound in the glens there like a Tabor
drum
the great concert of Śiva, Lord of the Beasts, would surely be
complete.41
24 The Cloud of Longing

57

Passing over so many sights on the slopes of the Snow Mountain,

you should follow the northern way by the Gate of Wild Geese
through the gap blasted into in Mount Krauñca, the road to the glory
of Bhṛgu’s Lord, beautiful in your form extended downward
like the dark foot of Vishnu about to vanquish Bali.42

58

And rising higher, you could be the guest of Mount Kailāsa,

the mirror of celestial nymphs; where the ten-​headed Rāvaṇa’s cracked
the joints of its lofty peaks. It spread open like gleaming pure-​white
lotuses
spanning the sky, as if the howling-​snow laughter of the Three-​Eyed God
is heaped up in all directions.43

59

At that very moment when you rest on its slopes; sporting the glossy hue
of finely cut collyrium, I foresee that the mountain, white as a fresh cut
ivory tusk,
will attain a beauteous splendor like Balarāma, the Plough Bearer,
when he throws his rich dark cloak over his shoulder,
fit to be seen with enrapt eyes.

60

And if Gaurī should stroll by the foot of that pleasure-​mountain, her hand
held by Śiva who has tossed aside his serpent armlet; go before her
and make yourself into a stairway with your inner floodwaters frozen
into wavelike steps for her to mount the jeweled slope.
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 25

61

There, celestial women will surely turn you into their bathing room,
your showers released through the striking of their thunderbolt-​diamond
bracelets.
If, friend, you are unable to free yourself from them in the hot season,
you should frighten them, who are so eager for play, with your jarring
thunder.

62

Taking the water of Lake Mānasa from which the golden lotus springs,
making for a moment at will, a pleasing veil for the divine elephant
Airāvata,
then with water dappled breezes shaking the fine garments hung
on the wish-​fulfilling tree there, you may enjoy that Best of the Mountains,
your shadow reflected in double on his shining crystals.44

63

O Cloud who wanders at your own sweet will, seeing Alakā once again,
you will not fail to recognize her, her fine Ganges gown slipped off
her slope as from a lover’s lap, bearing with her lofty mansions,
masses of clouds shedding their rain in your season
like a loving woman whose hair is woven with a string of pearls.45

64

The towering palaces there can equal your own in so many fine ways:
for lightning—​they have the flash of dazzling women, for your
rainbow—​colored
paintings, for your deep and soothing thunder—​muraja drums beating
for song and dance, for your inner waters—​floors set with jewels,
and for your loftiness—​summits that lick the sky.
26 The Cloud of Longing

65

Where young women toy with lotuses in their hands their locks
adorned with fresh jasmine, the luster of their faces made fair by the
pollen of
lodhra blossoms. In their crowning braids is the fresh kuravaka flower,
the lovely śirīṣa flowers in their ear, and the nīpa blossom,
which arises at your approach, is set in the parting of their hair.46

66

Whose Yakshas having come with the best of their women to the palace
roofs made of brilliant crystal with flower arrangements of reflected stars,
enjoy the sweet elixir of love made from the wish-​granting trees, while
pulsating puṣkara drums sound softly, like your deep muffled
rumblings.

67

Where, at midnight, moonstones hung from a network of threads,

shed clear drops of water by the moon’s rays, aglow, since your heavy
presence has vanished, remove the languor of women exhausted by
pleasure, just freed from the embrace of their lovers’ arms.

68

Where led on by the ever-​moving wind to the upper terraces

of its seven-​storied mansions and marring their paintings with droplets
of water,
Clouds like you, as if seized by fear, hasten off, rising through the
pathways of
lattice windows in frayed shreds, skilled at miming spewing smoke.
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 27

69

There as the lovers of the ripe-​lipped Yaksha women draw off their
loosened
silk dresses with brazen hands in crazed delight. In bashful confusion,
their knots and clasps undone. Those women throw handfuls of scented
powder
right onto the high shining jewel-​lamps, but to no avail.

70

Where the nightly path of love-​stricken women is traced at sunrise

by fallen coral blossoms shaken loose from their hair by their hurried gait,
by golden lotus flowers shed from their ears—​their petals split open,
and by necklaces of strung pearls—​
their threads snapped by the expanse of their breasts.

71

Knowing that the divine friend of Kubera is himself dwelling there,

the mind-​bewildering God of Love, through fear of him,
does not generally wield his bee-​strung bow, his work accomplished
by the flirting of clever women alone, who never fail
to hit their lover-​targets with glances cast by their arched brows.47

72

There, north of Kubera’s abode is our own home,

marked from afar by an arched gateway lovely as Indra’s rainbow,
In the midst of which is a young Mandāra Tree
raised by my beloved like her own son,
bent low from clusters of flowers that can be reached by hand.
28 The Cloud of Longing

73

And an oblong lotus pool is there, its stairway formed of emerald

gemstones covered with golden lotus buds on glossy stalks of lapis.
Residing in its waters, the wild geese, their burning grief all gone
upon seeing you, no longer pine for nearby Lake Mānasa.

74

On its bank is a pleasure hill so dear to my mate, its peak embossed

with dazzling sapphires and beautifully hedged by golden plantain trees.
Seeing you, O Friend, with lightning flashing all about your borders,
I remember it indeed with a troubled heart.

75

A deep red Aśoka, its shoots trembling, and a lovely Kesara tree are here,
and nearby, a bower of Mādhavī Vines bordered by red Amaranth:
the one longs with me for the touch of your friend’s left foot,
the other craves the wine from her mouth, feigning the need to blossom.48

76

And between them there is a golden perch, the base of its crystal slab
inlaid with precious gemstones—​aglow like young bamboo,
on which your friend, the blue-​necked peacock, settles in at the end
of the day
stirred to dance by the sweet tinkling bangles of my love as she claps in
time.
 The Meghadūta of Kālidāsa 29

77

By these signs stored up in your heart, O Good Cloud, and by seeing

on the sides of the doorway two painted figures, a conch and a lotus,
you may surely recognize the house now, its luster dimmed in my absence.
Does not the lotus indeed lose its own splendor when the sun goes down?

78

Instantly becoming small as an elephant cub for quick access

onto the pleasure hill I spoke of, landed on its charming crest,
you should flash your lightning glance down into the house—​
but only the slightest gleam—​a playful glint of a swarm of fireflies.

79

There she may be, slim, dark, with pointed teeth, her lower lip like
a ripened bimba fruit, slender-​waisted, with a glance like a timid doe,
her navel deeply set, her gait burdened by full hips,
slightly bent forward from her two breasts
She among women is the first work of the creator.49

80

You may know her, my second life, scant of speech,

while I, her mate, am far away like a lone cakravākī bird.
As these heavy days pass, I imagine that young girl, deep in her longing,
has changed in form like a lotus blighted by the winter cold.

81

Surely the eyes of my beloved are swollen from so much weeping;

the blush of her lower lip split open from the heat of her sighs.
Resting on her hand, her face, half hidden by her hanging tresses,
wears the sad, pale look of the moon when its loveliness is eclipsed
by your approach.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cambridge natural
history, Vol. 06 (of 10)
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.
You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project
Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If
you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The Cambridge natural history, Vol. 06 (of 10)

Author: David Sharp

Editor: S. F. Harmer
Sir A. E. Shipley

Release date: December 5, 2023 [eBook #72331]

Language: English

Original publication: London: Macmillan and Co, 1899

Credits: Keith Edkins, Peter Becker and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAMBRIDGE

NATURAL HISTORY, VOL. 06 (OF 10) ***
 THE

CAMBRIDGE NATURAL HISTORY

EDITED BY

S. F. HARMER, Sc.D., F.R.S., Fellow of King's College, Cambridge;

Superintendent of the University Museum of Zoology

AND

A. E. SHIPLEY, M.A., Fellow of Christ's College, Cambridge; University Lecturer

on the Morphology of Invertebrates

VOLUME VI

INSECTS
PART II. Hymenoptera continued (Tubulifera and Aculeata), Coleoptera, Strepsiptera,
Lepidoptera, Diptera, Aphaniptera, Thysanoptera, Hemiptera, Anoplura.
By David Sharp, M.A. (Cantab.), M.B. (Edinb.), F.R.S.

London
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1899

All rights reserved

"Men are poor things; I don't know why the world thinks so
much of them."—Mrs. Bee, by L. & M. Wintle.
 CONTENTS

PAGE
Scheme of the Classification adopted in this Book vii
CHAPTER I
Hymenoptera Petiolata continued—Series 2. Tubulifera or
Chrysididae.—Series 3. Aculeata—General—Classification—
Division I. Anthophila or Bees 1
CHAPTER II
Hymenoptera Aculeata continued—Division II. Diploptera or
Wasps—Eumenidae, Solitary True Wasps—Vespidae, Social
Wasps—Masaridae 71
CHAPTER III
Hymenoptera Aculeata continued—Division III. Fossores or
Fossorial Solitary Wasps—Family Scoliidae or Subterranean
Fossores—Family Pompilidae or Runners—Family Sphegidae
or Perfect-Stingers 90
CHAPTER IV
Hymenoptera Aculeata continued—Division IV. Formicidae or Ants 131
CHAPTER V
Coleoptera or Beetles—Strepsiptera 184
CHAPTER VI
Lepidoptera, or Butterflies and Moths 304
CHAPTER VII
Diptera, or Flies—Aphaniptera, or Fleas—Thysanoptera, or
Thrips 438
CHAPTER VIII
Hemiptera, or Bugs—Anoplura 532
Notes and Corrigenda to Volume VI. and to Insecta of Volume V. 602
Index 603
 SCHEME OF THE CLASSIFICATION ADOPTED IN THIS BOOK
Sub-order,
Sub-Family or
Order. Division, Family. Group.
Tribe.
or Series.
HYMENOPTERA Petiolata. (continued from Vol. V).
(continued from Tubulifera
Chrysididae (p. 1).
Vol. V) (p. 1)
Aculeata Archiapides (p. 21).
(p. 4) Obtusilingues (p. 22).
Anthophila
Andrenides (p. 23).
(p. 10)
Denudatae (p. 29).
Apidae
Scopulipedes (p. 32).
(p. 10)
Dasygastres (p. 35).
Sociales (p. 53).
Diploptera
Eumenidae (p. 72).
Vespidae (p. 78).
Masaridae (p. 88).
Mutillides (p. 94).
Fossores
Thynnides (p. 96).
(p. 90)
Scoliides (p. 97).
Scoliidae
Sapygides (p. 99).
(p. 94)
Rhopalosomides (p. 100).
Pompilidae (p. 101).
Sphegides (p. 107).
Ampulicides (p. 114).
Larrides (p. 116).
Trypoxylonides (p. 118).
Sphegidae Astatides (p. 119).
(p. 107) Bembecides (p. 119).
Nyssonides (p. 123).
Philanthides (p. 124).
Mimesides (p. 127).
Crabronides (p. 128).
Heterogyna Camponotides (p. 144).
(p. 131) Dolichoderides (p. 157).
Formicidae Myrmicini
(p. 131) (p. 159).
Attini (p. 165).
Myrmicides
Pseudomyrmini
(p. 158)
(p. 168).
Cryptocerini
(p. 169).
 Ponerides (p. 170).
Ecitonini
Dorylides
(p. 175).
(p. 174)
Dorylini (p. 177).
Amblyoponides (p. 180).

Sub-order,
Sub-Family or
Order. Division, Family.
Tribe.
or Series.
COLEOPTERA Passalidae (p. 192).
(p. 184) Lucanidae (p. 193).
Coprides (p. 195).
Lamellicornia Melolonthides
(p. 190) Scarabaeidae (p. 198).
(p. 194) Rutelides (p. 198).
Dynastides (p. 199).
Cetoniides (p. 199).
Cicindelidae (p. 201).
Carabides (p. 206).
Harpalides (p. 206).
Pseudomorphides
Carabidae (p. 204)
Adephaga or (p. 206).
Caraboidea Mormolycides
(p. 200) (p. 206).
Amphizoidae (p. 207).
Pelobiidae (p. 207).
Haliplidae (p. 209).
Dytiscidae (p. 210).
Polymorpha Paussidae (p. 213).
(p. 213) Gyrinidae (p. 215).
Hydrophilidae (p. 216).
Platypsyllidae (p. 219).
Leptinidae (p. 220).
Silphidae (p. 221).
Scydmaenidae (p. 223).
Gnostidae (p. 223).
Pselaphidae (p. 223).
Staphylinidae (p. 224).
Sphaeriidae (p. 227).
Trichopterygidae (p. 227).
Hydroscaphidae (p. 228).
Corylophidae (p. 228).
Scaphidiidae (p. 229).
Synteliidae (p. 229).
Histeridae (p. 230).
Phalacridae (p. 231).
Nitidulidae (p. 231).
Trogositidae (p. 232).
Colydiidae (p. 233).
Rhysodidae (p. 234).
Cucujidae (p. 234).
Cryptophagidae (p. 235).
Helotidae (p. 235).
Thorictidae (p. 236).
Erotylidae (p. 236).
Mycetophagidae (p. 237).
Coccinellidae (p. 237).
Endomychidae (p. 239).
Mycetaeidae (p. 239).
Latridiidae (p. 240).
Adimeridae (p. 240).
Dermestidae (p. 241).
Byrrhidae (p. 242).
Cyathoceridae (p. 243).
Georyssidae (p. 243).
Heteroceridae (p. 243).
Parnidae (p. 243).
Derodontidae (p. 244).
Cioidae (p. 245).
Sphindidae (p. 245).
Bostrichidae (p. 246).
Ptinides (p. 246).
Ptinidae (p. 246)
Anobiides (p. 246).
Lycides (p. 248).
Drilides (p. 248).
Malacodermidae Lampyrides
(p. 248) (p. 248).
Telephorides
(p. 248).
Melyridae (p. 252).
Cleridae (p. 253).
Lymexylonidae (p. 254).
Dascillidae (p. 255).
Rhipiceridae (p. 256).
Elateridae Throscides (p. 260).
(p. 256) Eucnemides
(p. 260).
Elaterides (p. 260).
 Cebrionides
(p. 260).
Perothopides
(p. 260).
Cerophytides
(p. 260).
Buprestidae (p. 261).
Tenebrionidae (p. 263).
Cistelidae (p. 264).
Lagriidae (p. 264).
Othniidae (p. 265).
Aegialitidae (p. 265).
Monommidae (p. 265).
Nilionidae (p. 265).
Heteromera
Melandryidae (p. 265).
(p. 262)
Pythidae (p. 265).
Pyrochroidae (p. 266).
Anthicidae (p. 266).
Oedemeridae (p. 266).
Mordellidae (p. 267).
Cantharidae (p. 269).
Trictenotomidae (p. 275).
Bruchidae (p. 276)
Eupoda (p. 280).
Camptosomes
Chrysomelidae (p. 281).
(p. 278) Cyclica (p. 282).
Phytophaga
Cryptostomes
(p. 276)
(p. 282).
Prionides (p. 287).
Cerambycidae Cerambycides
(p. 285) (p. 287).
Lamiides (p. 287).
Anthribidae (p. 290).
Rhynchophora Curculionidae (p. 290).
(p. 288) Scolytidae (p. 294).
Brenthidae (p. 295).
Aglycyderidae (p. 297).
Protorhinidae (p. 298).
Strepsiptera
Stylopidae (p. 298).
(p. 298)

Order. Sub-order, Family. Sub-Family or

Division, Tribe.
 or Series.
LEPIDOPTERA Danaides (p. 344).
(p. 304) Ithomiides (p. 346).
Satyrides (p. 347).
Morphides (p. 348).
Brassolides
Nymphalidae
(p. 349).
(p. 343)
Acraeides (p. 350).
Heliconiides
Rhopalocera
(p. 351).
(p. 341)
Nymphalides
(p. 352).
Erycinides (p. 355).
Erycinidae (p. 354)
Libytheides (p. 355).
Lycaenidae (p. 356).
Pieridae (p. 357).
Papilionidae (p. 359).
Hesperiidae (p. 363)
Heterocera Castniidae (p. 371).
(p. 366) Neocastniidae (p. 372).
Saturniidae (p. 372).
Brahmaeidae (p. 374).
Ceratocampidae (p. 375).
Bombycidae (p. 375).
Eupterotidae (p. 376).
Perophoridae (p. 377).
Sphingidae (p. 380).
Cocytiidae (p. 382).
Notodontidae (p. 383).
Cymatophoridae (p. 386).
Sesiidae (p. 386).
Tinaegeriidae (p. 387).
Syntomidae (p. 388).
Zygaenidae (p. 390).
Himantopteridae (p. 392).
Heterogynidae (p. 392).
Psychidae (p. 392).
Cossidae (p. 395).
Arbelidae (p. 396).
Chrysopolomidae (p. 396).
Hepialidae (p. 396).
Callidulidae (p. 400).
Drepanidae (p. 400).
Limacodidae (p. 401).
 Megalopyogidae (p. 404).
Thyrididae (p. 404).
Lasiocampidae (p. 405).
Endromidae (p. 406).
Pterothysanidae (p. 406).
Lymantriidae (p. 406).
Hypsidae (p. 408).
Arctiidae (p. 408).
Agaristidae (p. 410).
Geometridae (p. 411).
Noctuidae (p. 414).
Epicopeiidae (p. 418).
Uraniidae (p. 419).
Epiplemidae (p. 420).
Pyralidae (p. 420).
Pterophoridae (p. 426).
Alucitidae (p. 426).
Tortricidae (p. 427).
Tineidae (p. 428).
Eriocephalidae (p. 433).
Micropterygidae (p. 435).

Sub-order,
Sub-Family or
Order. Division, Family.
Tribe.
or Series.
DIPTERA Cecidomyiidae (p. 458).
(p. 438) Mycetophilidae (p. 462).
Blepharoceridae (p. 464).
Culicidae (p. 466).
Chironomidae (p. 468).
Orphnephilidae (p. 470).
Orthorrhapha Psychodidae (p. 470).
Nemocera Dixidae (p. 471).
(p. 455) Ptychopterinae
Tipulidae (p. 472).
(p. 471) Limnobiinae (p. 473).
Tipulinae (p. 475).
Bibionidae (p. 475).
Simuliidae (p. 477).
Rhyphidae (p. 478).
Orthorrhapha Stratiomyidae (p. 478).
Brachycera Leptidae (p. 479).
(pp. 455, 478) Tabanidae (p. 481).
Acanthomeridae (p. 483).
 Therevidae (p. 484).
Scenopinidae (p. 484).
Nemestrinidae (p. 484).
Bombyliidae (p. 485).
Acroceridae (p. 489).
Lonchopteridae (p. 490).
Mydaidae (p. 491).
Asilidae (p. 491).
Apioceridae (p. 492).
Empidae (p. 492).
Dolichopidae (p. 493).
Phoridae (p. 494).
Cyclorrhapha Platypezidae (p. 496).
Asciza Pipunculidae (p. 496).
(pp. 455, 494) Conopidae (p. 497).
Syrphidae (p. 498).
Muscidae Acalyptratae (p. 503).
Anthomyiidae (p. 506).
Cyclorrhapha Tachinidae (p. 507).
Schizophora Dexiidae (p. 510).
(pp. 456, 503) Sarcophagidae (p. 510).
Muscidae (p. 511).
Oestridae (p. 514).
Hippoboscidae (p. 518).
Pupipara Braulidae (p. 520).
(pp. 456, 517) Streblidae (p. 521).
Nycteribiidae (p. 521).

APHANIPTERA(pp. 456, 522) Pulicidae (p. 522).

THYSANOPTERA Terebrantia (p. 531).

(p. 526) Tubulifera (p. 531).

Order. Sub-order. Series. Family

HEMIPTERA Heteroptera Gymnocerata Pentatomidae
(p. 532) (pp. 543, 544) (p. 544) (p. 545).
Coreidae (p. 546).
Berytidae (p. 548).
Lygaeidae (p. 548).
Pyrrhocoridae
(p. 549).
Tingidae (p. 549).
Aradidae (p. 550).
Hebridae (p. 551).
 Hydrometridae
(p. 551).
Henicocephalidae
(p. 554).
Phymatidae (p. 554).
Reduviidae (p. 555).
Aëpophilidae (p. 559).
Ceratocombidae
(p. 559).
Cimicidae (p. 559).
Anthocoridae
(p. 560).
Polyctenidae (p. 560).
Capsidae (p. 561).
Saldidae (p. 562).
Galgulidae (p. 562).
Nepidae (p. 563).
Naucoridae (p. 565).
Cryptocerata Belostomidae
(p. 562) (p. 565).
Notonectidae
(p. 567).
Corixidae (p. 567).
Cicadidae (p. 568).
Fulgoridae (p. 574).
Trimera (p. 544) Membracidae (p. 576).
Cercopidae (p. 577).
Homoptera Jassidae (p. 578).
(pp. 543, 568) Psyllidae (p. 578).
Dimera (p. 544) Aphidae (p. 581).
Aleurodidae (p. 591).
Monomera
Coccidae (p. 592).
(p. 544)
Anoplura (p. 599) Pediculidae (p. 599).
 CHAPTER I

HYMENOPTERA PETIOLATA CONTINUED

SERIES 2. TUBULIFERA OR CHRYSIDIDAE—SERIES 3. ACULEATA—

GENERAL—CLASSIFICATION—DIVISION I. ANTHOPHILA OR BEES

The First Series—Parasitica—of the Sub-Order Hymenoptera

Petiolata was discussed in the previous volume. We now pass to the
Second Series.

Series 2. Hymenoptera Tubulifera.

Trochanters undivided; the hind-body consisting of from three to

five visible segments; the female with an ovipositor, usually
retracted, transversely segmented, enveloping a fine, pointed
style. The larvae usually live in the cells of other Hymenoptera.

The Tubulifera form but a small group in comparison with Parasitica

and Aculeata, the other two Series of the Sub-Order. Though of
parasitic habits, they do not appear to be closely allied to any of the
families of Hymenoptera Parasitica, though M. du Buysson suggests
that they have some affinity with Proctotrypidae; their morphology
and classification have been, however, but little discussed, and have
not been the subject of any profound investigation. At present it is
only necessary to recognise one family, viz. Chrysididae or Ruby-
wasps.[1] These Insects are usually of glowing, metallic colours, with
a very hard, coarsely-sculptured integument. Their antennae are
abruptly elbowed, the joints not being numerous, usually about
thirteen, and frequently so connected that it is not easy to count
them. The abdomen is, in the great majority, of very peculiar
construction, and allows the Insect to curl it completely under the
anterior parts, so as to roll up into a little ball; the dorsal plates are
very strongly arched, and seen from beneath form a free edge, while
the ventral plates are of less hard consistence, and are connected
with the dorsal plates at some distance from the free edge, so that
the abdomen appears concave beneath. In the anomalous genus
Cleptes the abdomen is, however, similar in form to that of the
Aculeate Hymenoptera, and has four or five visible segments,
instead of the three or four that are all that can be seen in the normal
Chrysididae. The larvae of the Ruby-flies have the same number of
segments as other Hymenoptera Petiolata. The difference in this
respect of the perfect Chrysididae from other Petiolata is due to a
greater number of the terminal segments being indrawn so as to
form the tube, or telescope-like structure from which the series
obtains its name. This tube is shown partially extruded in Fig. 1;
when fully thrust out it is seen to be segmented, and three or four
segments may be distinguished. The ovipositor proper is concealed
within this tube; it appears to be of the nature of an imperfect sting;
there being a very sharply pointed style, and a pair of enveloping
sheaths; the style really consists of a trough-like plate and two fine
rods or spiculae. There are no poison glands, except in Cleptes,
which form appears to come very near to the Aculeate series. Some
of the Chrysididae on occasions use the ovipositor as a sting, though
it is only capable of inflicting a very minute and almost innocuous
wound.

Fig. 1.—Chrysis ignita, ♀. England.

Although none of the Ruby-flies attain a large size, they are usually
very conspicuous on account of their gaudy or brilliant colours. They
are amongst the most restless and rapid of Insects; they love the hot
sunshine, and are difficult of capture. Though not anywhere
numerous in species, they are found in most parts of the world. In
Britain we have about twenty species. They usually frequent old
wood or masonry, in which the nests of Aculeate Hymenoptera exist,
or fly rapidly to and fro about the banks of earth where bees nest. Dr.
Chapman has observed the habits of some of our British species.[2]
He noticed Chrysis ignita flying about the cell of Odynerus parietum,
a solitary wasp that provisions its nest with caterpillars; in this cell
the Chrysis deposited an egg, and in less than an hour the wasp had
sealed the cell. Two days afterwards this was opened and was found
to contain a larva of Chrysis a quarter of an inch long, as well as the
Lepidopterous larvae stored up by the wasp, but there was no trace
of egg or young of the wasp. Six days after the egg was laid the
Chrysis had eaten all the food and was full-grown, having moulted
three or four times. Afterwards it formed a cocoon in which to
complete its metamorphosis. It is, however, more usual for the
species of Chrysis to live on the larva of the wasp and not on the
food; indeed, it has recently been positively stated that Chrysis never
eats the food in the wasp's cell, but there is no ground whatever for
rejecting the evidence of so careful an observer as Dr. Chapman.
According to M. du Buysson the larva of Chrysis will not eat the
lepidopterous larvae, but will die in their midst if the Odynerus larva
does not develop; but this observation probably relates only to such
species as habitually live on Odynerus itself. The mother-wasp of
Chrysis bidentata searches for a cell of Odynerus spinipes that has
not been properly closed, and that contains a full-grown larva of that
wasp enclosed in its cocoon. Having succeeded in its search the
Chrysis deposits several eggs—from six to ten; for some reason that
is not apparent all but one of these eggs fail to produce young; in two
or three days this one hatches, the others shrivelling up. The young
Chrysis larva seizes with its mouth a fold of the skin of the helpless
larva of the Odynerus, and sucks it without inflicting any visible
wound. In about eleven days the Chrysis has changed its skin four
times, has consumed all the larva and is full-fed; it spins its own
cocoon inside that of its victim, and remains therein till the following
spring, when it changes to a pupa, and in less than three weeks
thereafter emerges a perfect Chrysis of the most brilliant colour, and
if it be a female indefatigable in activity. It is remarkable that the larva
of Chrysis is so much like that of Odynerus that the two can only be
distinguished externally by the colour, the Odynerus being yellow
and the Chrysis white; but this is only one of the many cases in
which host and parasite are extremely similar to the eye. Chrysis
shanghaiensis has been reared from the cocoons of a Lepidopterous
Insect—Monema flavescens, family Limacodidae—and it has been
presumed that it eats the larva therein contained. All other Chrysids,
so far as known, live at the expense of Hymenoptera (usually, as we
have seen, actually consuming their bodies), and it is not impossible
that C. shanghaiensis really lives on a Hymenopterous parasite in
the cocoon of the Lepidopteron.

Parnopes carnea frequents the nests of Bembex rostrata, a solitary

wasp that has the unusual habit of bringing from time to time a
supply of food to its young larva; for this purpose it has to open the
nest in which its young is enclosed, and the Parnopes takes
advantage of this habit by entering the cell and depositing there an
egg which produces a larva that devours that of the Bembex. The
species of the anomalous genus Cleptes live, it is believed, at the
expense of Tenthredinidae, and in all probability oviposit in their
cocoons which are placed in the earth.

Series 3. Hymenoptera Aculeata.

The females (whether workers or true females) provided with a

sting: trochanters usually undivided (monotrochous). Usually the
antennae of the males with thirteen, of the females with twelve,
joints (exceptions in ants numerous).

These characters only define this series in a very unsatisfactory

manner, as no means of distinguishing the "sting" from the
homologous structures found in Tubulifera, and in the Proctotrypid
division of Hymenoptera Parasitica, have been pointed out. As the
structure of the trochanters is subject to numerous exceptions, the
classification at present existing is an arbitrary one. It would probably
be more satisfactory to separate the Proctotrypidae (or a
considerable part thereof) from the Parasitica, and unite them with
the Tubulifera and Aculeata in a great series, characterised by the
fact that the ovipositor is withdrawn into the body in a direct manner
so as to be entirely internal, whereas in the Parasitica it is not
withdrawn in this manner, but remains truly an external organ,
though in numerous cases concealed by a process of torsion of the
terminal segments. If this were done it might be found possible to
divide the great group thus formed into two divisions characterised
by the fact that the ovipositor in one retains its function, the egg
passing through it (Proctotrypidae and Tubulifera), while in the other
the organ in question serves as a weapon of offence and defence,
and does not act as a true ovipositor, the egg escaping at its base. It
would, however, be premature to adopt so revolutionary a course
until the comparative anatomy of the organs concerned shall have
received a much greater share of attention; a detailed scrutiny of
Prototrypidae being particularly desired.

Fig. 2.—Diagram of upper surface of Priocnemis affinis ♀, Pompilidae.

o, ocelli; B1, pronotum; B2, mesonotum; B3, scutellum of
mesonotum; B4, post-scutellum or middle part of metanotum; B5,
propodeum or median segment (see vol. v. p. 491); B6, combing
hairs, pecten, of front foot: C1, first segment of abdomen, here not
forming a pedicel or stalk: D1, coxa; D2, trochanter; D3, femur; D6,
calcaria or spurs of hind leg: 1 to 15, nervures of wings, viz. 1,
costal; 2, post-costal; 3, median; 4, posterior; 5, stigma; 6,
marginal; 7, upper basal; 8, lower basal; 9, 9, cubital; 10, the three
 sub-marginal; 11, first recurrent; 12, second recurrent; 13, anterior
of hind wing; 14, median; 15, posterior: I to XI, the cells, viz. I,
upper basal; II, lower basal; III, marginal; IV, V, VI, first, second
and third sub-marginal; VII, first discoidal; VIII, third discoidal; IX,
second discoidal; X, first apical; XI, second apical.

We have dealt with the external anatomy of Hymenoptera in Vol. V.;

so that here it is only necessary to give a diagram to explain the
terms used in the descriptions of the families and sub-families of
Aculeata, and to discuss briefly their characteristic structures.

Fig. 3—Sting of bee. A, One of the needles separated; a, the barbed

point; b, piston; c, arm. B, Transverse section of the sting: dd, the
two needles; e, bead for guiding the needles; f, director; g,
channel of poison. (After Carlet.)

The Sting of the bee has been described in detail by Kraepelin,

Sollmann, Carlet[3] and others. It is an extremely perfect mechanical
arrangement. The sting itself—independent of the sheaths and
adjuncts—consists of three elongate pieces, one of them a gouge-
like director, the other two pointed and barbed needles; the director
is provided with a bead for each of the needles to run on, these latter
having a corresponding groove; the entrance to the groove is
narrower than its subsequent diameter, so that the needles play up
and down on the director with facility, but cannot be dragged away
from it; each needle is provided with an arm at the base to which are
attached the muscles for its movement. This simple manner of
describing the mechanical arrangement is, however, incomplete,
inasmuch as it includes no account of the means by which the