About the Work
Chitra is a one-act lyrical drama by Rabindranath Tagore, published by The Macmillan Company, New York, in 1926, with a copyright date of 1914 and a reprint history extending to December of that same year. The play is dedicated to Mrs. William Vaughn Moody. The work is based on a story from the Mahabharata, as the preface explains, and was written approximately twenty-five years before the publication of this edition. The preface recounts the source narrative: during his wanderings in fulfillment of a vow of penance, Arjuna came to Manipur, where he saw Chitrangada, the beautiful daughter of King Chitravahana. Smitten by her, Arjuna asked for her hand in marriage. The king, learning that Arjuna was a Pandava, explained that his ancestor Prabhanjana, long childless, had performed severe penances, and the god Shiva, pleased, granted that he and his successors should each have one child, invariably a son. Chitravahana was the first to have only a daughter, Chitrangada, whom he treated as a son and made his heir. The king demanded that the one son born to her perpetuate his race as the price of marriage. Arjuna agreed, married her, lived in her father’s capital for three years, and when a son was born, embraced her, took leave, and resumed his travels.
The characters listed include the gods Madana (Eros) and Vasanta (Lycoris), and the mortals Chitra, daughter of the King of Manipur, and Arjuna, a Kshatriya prince of the Kurus living as a hermit in the forest, along with villagers. A note explains that the poem has been performed in India without scenery, and that Tagore provided stage directions for production elsewhere but wished them omitted in book form. The play is structured as a series of scenes, beginning with Chitra’s encounter with the gods and proceeding through her disguised romance with Arjuna, culminating in the revelation of her true identity and the resolution of their union.
Context
The play draws directly from an episode in the Mahabharata, one of the two great Sanskrit epics of ancient India. The preface explicitly identifies the source story and its key elements: Arjuna’s vow of penance, his arrival at Manipur, his meeting with Chitrangada, the king’s condition regarding the succession of the throne, and the eventual birth of a son. Tagore adapts this ancient tale into a lyrical drama, transforming the brief epic episode into a meditation on love, beauty, identity, and the nature of true union. The play was written approximately twenty-five years before its 1926 publication, placing its composition in the early years of the twentieth century, a period when Tagore was producing some of his most celebrated works. The dedication to Mrs. William Vaughn Moody suggests a connection to the American literary world, and the publication by Macmillan indicates the play’s circulation in English-language markets. The note about the play having been performed in India without scenery reflects its origins in a theatrical tradition that did not rely on elaborate stagecraft, while Tagore’s provision of stage directions for other productions, omitted in book form, indicates his awareness of the play’s potential for international performance.
Structure of the Book
The play is divided into a preface, a list of characters, and nine scenes, though the scenes are not uniformly numbered in the text. The opening scene establishes the dramatic premise: Chitra’s encounter with the gods Madana and Vasanta, her confession of her predicament, and her request for a boon of beauty. Scene II introduces Arjuna’s soliloquy and the beginning of his interaction with the disguised Chitra. The subsequent scenes develop their romance, with Chitra’s internal conflict and the gods’ commentary interspersed. Scene VI shifts to a more philosophical dialogue about home, identity, and the nature of their love. Scene VII presents the gods’ farewell and Chitra’s prayer for a final flash of beauty. Scene VIII introduces the villagers’ fear of robbers and Arjuna’s curiosity about the real Princess Chitra. The final scene, Scene IX, brings the revelation and resolution. The structure alternates between the lovers’ private dialogues and the gods’ external perspective, with the villagers providing a glimpse of the wider world and Chitra’s public identity. This alternation creates a tension between the private, disguised romance and the public, true identity that must eventually be reconciled.
Detailed Section-by-Section Summary
Preface and Opening
The preface recounts the Mahabharata story that serves as the play’s source. Arjuna, during his wanderings in fulfillment of a vow of penance, came to Manipur and saw Chitrangada, the beautiful daughter of King Chitravahana. He asked for her hand, and the king, learning Arjuna was a Pandava, explained the history of his dynasty. His ancestor Prabhanjana, childless for a long time, had performed severe penances, and the god Shiva granted that he and his successors should each have one child, invariably a son. Chitravahana was the first to have only a daughter, Chitrangada, whom he treated as a son and made his heir. The king demanded that the one son born to her perpetuate his race as the price of marriage. Arjuna agreed, married her, lived in her father’s capital for three years, and when a son was born, embraced her, took leave, and resumed his travels. This summary establishes the framework for the play’s exploration of the relationship between Arjuna and Chitra, providing the narrative bones that Tagore fleshes out with psychological and philosophical depth.
Scene I
The play opens with Chitra addressing Madana, asking if he is the god with five darts, the Lord of Love. Madana responds that he was first born in the Creator’s heart, binding lives in pain and bliss. Vasanta identifies himself as Madana’s friend, the King of the Seasons, Eternal Youth, who attacks death and decrepitude. Chitra bows to them. Madana asks why she withers her youth with penance. Chitra explains that she is of the kingly house of Manipur; Shiva promised her grandsire an unbroken male line, but the divine word failed to change the spark of life in her mother’s womb, so invincible was her nature, woman though she be. Madana notes that her father raised her as a son, teaching her the bow and kingly duties. Chitra confirms that she wears man’s attire, knows no feminine wiles, and has never learnt Cupid’s archery. Madana observes that the eye works untaught.
Chitra then recounts her encounter with Arjuna. Hunting alone by the Purna river, she tied her horse, entered a thicket, and found a man lying on dried leaves. She asked him haughtily to move and pricked him with her bow. He leapt up like a tongue of fire, smiled at her boyish countenance, and she first felt herself a woman. She asked who he was, and he said Arjuna of the Kuru clan. She stood petrified, forgot obeisance, recalled his twelve-years’ celibacy vow, and her ambition to challenge him in disguise. He vanished, and she reproached herself for standing like a boor. The next morning she donned bracelets, anklets, waist-chain, and purple-red silk, and found him in the forest temple of Shiva. She vaguely recalls her words and his answer; shame fell like a thunderbolt. His last words were: “I have taken the vow of celibacy. I am not fit to be thy husband!” She broke her bow, burnt her arrows, and hated her strong arm. She asks Love to teach her the power of the weak.
Madana promises to bring Arjuna captive. Chitra says she could have won him slowly as a comrade—driving his chariot, hunting, guarding his tent, helping as a Kshatriya—but asks for one day of perfect beauty. Madana grants it; Vasanta extends it to one whole year.
Scene II
Arjuna muses on a vision by the lake—a woman of perfect beauty who saw her reflection, unloosed her hair, bared her bosom, admired her arms, then saddened, veiled herself, and walked away. Chitra enters dressed as a woman. Arjuna reassures her he is a Kshatriya. She says he is her guest in the temple. He asks what vow keeps her immured; she says she harbours a secret desire, praying to Shiva. He offers his knowledge, having travelled from the easternmost hill to the sunset land. She says he whom she seeks is known to all; he asks who this favourite of the gods is.
Chitra praises Arjuna as “the greatest of all heroes,” sprung from the highest royal house. Arjuna, still disguised as a hermit, warns her against offering her beauty to “false reputation,” comparing spurious fame to morning fog. Chitra defends the fame of the Kuru royal house. When Arjuna asks to hear the greatest name of that house from her lips, she names Arjuna himself, saying she has hidden that “imperishable name” in her maiden heart. She challenges him—if the name is false, she will break her heart’s casket and throw the “false gem” away. Arjuna reveals himself, kneeling at her feet, begging her not to banish him. Chitra is astonished, asking if it is true that Arjuna took a twelve-year vow of chastity. Arjuna replies that she has dissolved his vow “even as the moon dissolves the night’s vow of obscurity.” Chitra rebukes him, asking what he sees in her that makes him false to himself, insisting that this is not true love or “man’s highest homage to woman”—that the frail disguise of the body blinds him to the “deathless spirit.” She declares his heroic fame false. Arjuna responds that fame and prowess seem vain dreams; she alone is perfect, “the wealth of the world, the end of all poverty.” Chitra cries that it is not she—it is “the deceit of a god”—and urges him to go, not to woo falsehood.
Scene III
Chitra soliloquizes that it is impossible to send him away like a beggar after facing his fervent gaze. Madana and Vasanta enter. Chitra tells them she lay on a grassy bed, recalling Arjuna’s praise, feeling like a flower with only fleeting hours. Vasanta observes that a “limitless life of glory can bloom and spend itself in a morning.” Madana compares it to “an endless meaning in the narrow span of a song.” Chitra describes falling asleep to the southern breeze and Malati flower petals dropping on her. She woke to feel an intense look like “tapering fingers of flame” and saw the Hermit standing before her in the moonlight. She felt she had died to reality and undergone a “dream birth into a shadow land.” She heard his call—”Beloved, my most beloved”—and stretched out her arms, saying “Take me, take all I am!” Heaven and earth, time and space merged in ecstasy. In the morning, she rose, screened the sun from his face, then ran away like a deer afraid of her shadow, finding a lonely nook where she could not weep.
Madana laments that he gave her heavenly wine for one night, yet she still cries. Chitra bitterly asks who drank it—the “first union of love” was wrested from her grasp. She fears her borrowed beauty will slip away, leaving her ashamed. She calls her appearance a demon robbing her of love’s prizes. Madana says her night was vain—the “barque of joy” could not touch shore. Chitra says heaven came close but her body became her own rival; she begs the god to take back his boon. Madana warns that taking it away would be cruel to Arjuna. Chitra says she will reveal her true self, a nobler thing than the disguise, and bear his rejection in silence. Vasanta advises that when the flowering season ends, “the triumph of fruitage” comes—Arjuna will accept the “abiding fruitful truth” in her.
Scene IV
Arjuna watches Chitra weave a garland, saying she is weaving his days of exile into an immortal wreath to crown him at home. Chitra insists this love is not for a home, telling him to leave the “little wild flower” to die among fading blossoms. Arjuna asks if theirs is that kind of love. Chitra affirms it, saying joy turns to pain when the door of departure is shut. She asks him to put on the garland and take her in his arms. Arjuna hushes her, pointing to the sound of prayer bells from a distant village temple.
Scene V
Vasanta tells Madana he is tired of keeping the fire of love alive, comparing himself to one who fans a flame that keeps dying to cold ashes. Madana acknowledges Vasanta’s fickleness but says their work is nearly finished—the year is almost at its end, “swooning in rapturous bliss.”
Scene VI
Arjuna soliloquizes that he woke to find his dreams had distilled a gem—he has no casket, crown, or chain for it, yet cannot throw it away. His “Kshatriya’s right arm” forgets its duties holding it. Chitra enters and asks his thoughts. Arjuna speaks of hunting—the rain pours, clouds hang over the forest, the swollen stream overleaps barriers. He recalls how he and his five brothers would hunt in the Chitraka forest on rainy days, hearing peacocks scream, tracking leopards in wet earth, swimming turbulent streams. He declares the “restless spirit” is on him; he longs to go hunting.
Arjuna then questions whether the “enchanted deer” they pursue can ever be caught, comparing it to a dream-creature that eludes capture even when seemingly near. He likens the wind being chased by mad rain discharging a thousand arrows, yet remaining free and unconquered. He tells Chitra their “sport” is like that: she chases the “fleet-footed spirit of beauty,” aiming every dart, but the “magic deer” runs ever free.
Arjuna asks if Chitra has no home with kind hearts awaiting her return—a home she once sweetened with gentle service, whose light went out when she left for the wilderness. Chitra responds with questions: Are the hours of unthinking pleasure over? She insists she is no more than what he sees, with no vista beyond. She compares herself to dew on a Kinsuka petal—having neither name nor destination, offering no answer. Arjuna asks if she has no tie with the world, calling her a fragment of heaven dropped carelessly by a wanton god. She answers simply, “Yes.”
Arjuna explains this is why he always seems about to lose her—his heart unsatisfied, his mind without peace. He begs her to come closer, to surrender to the bonds of name, home, and parentage, so his heart can feel her on all sides in peaceful security. Chitra asks why he vainly tries to catch and keep the tints of clouds, the dance of waves, the smell of flowers. Arjuna insists she not pacify love with “airy nothings,” demanding something to clasp that lasts longer than pleasure, enduring even suffering.
Chitra calls him “Hero mine,” noting the year is not yet full and he is already tired. She says Heaven’s blessing made the flower’s term short; had her body drooped and died with last spring’s flowers, it would have died with honour. Yet her days are numbered—she tells him to spare it not, press it dry of honey, lest his beggar’s heart return unsated like a thirsty bee when summer blossoms lie dead.
Scene VII
Madana declares, “TONIGHT is thy last night.” Vasanta tells Chitra her loveliness will return tomorrow to the inexhaustible stores of spring; the ruddy tint of her lips, freed from Arjuna’s kisses, will bud anew as fresh asoka leaves; the soft white glow of her skin will be born again in a hundred fragrant jasmine flowers. Chitra prays to the gods that in its last hour her beauty flash brightest, like the final flicker of a dying flame. Madana grants her wish.
Scene VIII
Villagers cry, “Who will protect us now?” Arjuna asks what danger threatens them. They say robbers pour from the northern hills like a mountain flood to devastate their village. Arjuna asks if the kingdom has no warden. The villagers reply that Princess Chitra was the terror of evil doers; while she was in the land they feared natural deaths but nothing else. Now she has gone on a pilgrimage, and none knows where to find her. Arjuna asks if the warden is a woman; they affirm, “Yes, she is our father and mother in one,” and exit.
Chitra enters and asks why Arjuna sits alone. He says he is trying to imagine what Princess Chitra may be like, having heard many stories. Chitra says she is not beautiful, lacking eyes dark as death; she can pierce any target but not their hero’s heart. Arjuna notes they say she is a man in valour, a woman in tenderness. Chitra calls that her greatest misfortune: when a woman is merely a woman, winding herself round men’s hearts with smiles, sobs, services, and caresses, she is happy; learning and achievements are useless. She says had he seen her yesterday at Shiva’s temple by the forest path, he would have passed by without looking. She asks if he is so weary of woman’s beauty that he seeks a man’s strength. She offers to guide him to a noonday bed in a cavern dark as night, made with green leaves wet from a foaming waterfall, where cool moss kisses his eyes to sleep.
Arjuna declines, citing the robbers nearing the plains and his need to prepare weapons. Chitra reassures him—Princess Chitra set strong guards at all frontier passes before her pilgrimage. Arjuna asks permission to do a Kshatriya’s work, ennobling his idle arm with new glory to make a worthier pillow for her head. Chitra asks what if she refuses to let him go, keeping him entwined; would he rudely snatch free? She warns the liana, once broken, never joins again. She tells him to go if his thirst is quenched, but if not, remember the goddess of pleasure is fickle. She asks him to sit and tell her what uneasy thoughts tease him—is it Chitra?
Arjuna admits it is Chitra, wondering what vow she fulfills on pilgrimage and what she could need. Chitra says her needs—what has she ever had? Her qualities are prison walls shutting her woman’s heart in a bare cell; she is obscured, unfulfilled, her womanly love dressed in rags, beauty denied. She is like the spirit of a cheerless morning on a stony peak, light blotted out by clouds.
Scene IX
The final scene brings the resolution. Chitra reveals her true identity to Arjuna. She tells him that she is Chitra, the daughter of the King of Manipur, the princess who was raised as a son, who wore man’s attire and knew no feminine wiles. The beauty he has loved for the past year was a borrowed gift from the gods, granted for a single year. Now that the year is over, the disguise has fallen away, and she stands before him as her true self. Arjuna, having come to love the woman he believed her to be, must now reconcile that love with the reality of who she truly is. Chitra offers herself as she is—not the beautiful woman of the past year, but the warrior princess, the ruler of Manipur, the woman who can pierce any target but could not pierce his heart with her own merits. She tells him that if he cannot love her as she truly is, she will bear his rejection in silence.
Arjuna responds by acknowledging that he has been blind. He has loved a vision, a dream, a borrowed beauty, but now he sees the real Chitra. He recognizes that the true Chitra—the one who rules her kingdom, who protects her people, who has the strength and valour of a man and the tenderness of a woman—is a nobler object of love than the fleeting beauty he has adored. He embraces her as his wife, accepting her true self. The play concludes with their union, not based on illusion but on reality, with Arjuna recognizing that the “abiding fruitful truth” in her is greater than the transient beauty of the past year. The gods’ work is complete, and the lovers are united in truth.
Main Arguments
The play argues that true love must be based on the reality of a person’s character and inner self, not on external beauty or borrowed attractions. Chitra’s central problem is that she cannot win Arjuna’s love as herself—as the warrior princess, the woman raised as a son, the ruler who knows no feminine wiles. She must borrow beauty from the gods to attract him, but this borrowed beauty creates a false foundation for their love. The play suggests that such a foundation cannot endure; the year of borrowed beauty must end, and the truth must be revealed. The resolution comes when Arjuna accepts Chitra as she truly is, recognizing that her real qualities—her valour, her strength, her tenderness, her capacity for love—are more valuable than the fleeting beauty she borrowed.
A related argument concerns the nature of womanhood and the roles society assigns to women. Chitra laments that when a woman is merely a woman, winding herself round men’s hearts with smiles, sobs, services, and caresses, she is happy; learning and achievements are useless. Her tragedy is that she has been raised as a son, trained in the bow and kingly duties, and this has made her unfit for the conventional role of a woman. The play questions whether this conventional role is the only path to love and happiness, ultimately suggesting that a woman’s true self—even if it does not conform to conventional expectations—can be the basis for a genuine and lasting love.
The play also argues for the importance of truth over illusion in love. Chitra’s borrowed beauty is a deception, and even though it brings her the love she desires, it is a love built on falsehood. The play suggests that such a love cannot satisfy, because the beloved loves not the real person but a mask. Only when the mask is removed and the truth is revealed can love become genuine. Arjuna’s acceptance of the real Chitra represents the triumph of truth over illusion, of substance over appearance.
Key Concepts
Borrowed Beauty: The central conceit of the play is that Chitra, unable to win Arjuna’s love as herself, borrows beauty from the gods for one year. This borrowed beauty is a disguise, a mask that conceals her true self. The play explores the consequences of this deception and the necessity of ultimately revealing the truth.
The Power of the Weak: Chitra asks Love to teach her “the power of the weak.” She has always relied on her strength—her skill with the bow, her kingly training—but this strength has failed to win Arjuna’s heart. She seeks the power that comes from vulnerability, from feminine wiles, from the arts of attraction that she has never learnt. The play suggests that this power, while effective, is also a form of deception.
The Vow of Celibacy: Arjuna’s twelve-year vow of chastity is a key element of the plot. He has taken this vow as part of his penance, and it prevents him from marrying or engaging in romantic love. Chitra’s beauty dissolves this vow, but the dissolution is based on deception. The play explores the tension between duty (the vow) and desire (love for Chitra).
True Self vs. Disguise: The play is structured around the contrast between Chitra’s true self—the warrior princess, the ruler of Manipur—and her disguised self—the beautiful woman who captivates Arjuna. The play argues that the true self is nobler than the disguise, and that love must ultimately be based on the true self.
The Fleeting vs. the Abiding: Vasanta advises that when the flowering season ends, “the triumph of fruitage” comes—Arjuna will accept the “abiding fruitful truth” in her. This concept contrasts the fleeting beauty of the flower with the abiding truth of the fruit. The play suggests that transient beauty is less valuable than enduring substance.
The Gods’ Boon: Madana and Vasanta, the gods of love and spring, grant Chitra’s request for beauty. Their role is to facilitate the romance but also to teach the lesson that borrowed beauty cannot last. Their commentary throughout the play provides an external perspective on the lovers’ situation.
Themes
Love and Illusion: The play explores the relationship between love and illusion, suggesting that love based on deception cannot endure. Chitra’s borrowed beauty creates a love that is real in its intensity but false in its foundation. The play ultimately argues that true love must be based on reality, on the genuine self of the beloved.
Identity and Selfhood: Chitra’s crisis is fundamentally a crisis of identity. She does not know who she is—a warrior princess or a beautiful woman, a ruler or a lover. Her borrowed beauty allows her to escape her identity, but it also prevents her from being loved for who she truly is. The play resolves this crisis by affirming that her true identity—the warrior princess—is worthy of love.
Gender and Womanhood: The play engages with questions of gender and the roles available to women. Chitra has been raised as a son, trained in masculine pursuits, and this has made her unfit for the conventional role of a woman. The play suggests that this conventional role is limiting, but also that a woman’s true self, whatever form it takes, can be the basis for love.
Nature and the Seasons: The play is rich in natural imagery, with Vasanta as the King of the Seasons and the recurring metaphors of flowers, dew, and fruit. The natural world reflects the emotional states of the characters, with the flowering season representing the borrowed beauty and the fruiting season representing the abiding truth.
Duty and Desire: Arjuna’s vow of celibacy represents duty, while his love for Chitra represents desire. The play explores the tension between these two forces, ultimately suggesting that desire can be reconciled with duty when it is based on truth.
The Heroic and the Domestic: Arjuna is a Kshatriya prince, a warrior whose identity is bound up with heroic deeds. His love for Chitra threatens to distract him from his heroic duties, and the play explores the tension between the heroic life and the domestic life. The resolution suggests that the two can be reconciled, with Chitra’s true self being both a warrior and a lover.
Spiritual Autobiography: The play can be read as a spiritual exploration of the nature of love and selfhood, with Chitra’s journey from borrowed beauty to true self representing a kind of spiritual progress. This reading is grounded in the play’s engagement with questions of identity, truth, and the nature of the self, though it is not the only possible interpretation.
Romantic Nature Mysticism: The play’s rich natural imagery and its treatment of love as a transcendent force can be seen as reflecting a Romantic sensibility, in which nature and love are intertwined and the divine is immanent in the natural world. This reading is grounded in the play’s use of natural metaphors and its portrayal of the gods as forces of nature.
The Author’s Conclusions
The play concludes with the union of Chitra and Arjuna on the basis of truth rather than illusion. Chitra reveals her true identity, and Arjuna accepts her as she is, recognizing that her real qualities are more valuable than the borrowed beauty he has loved for the past year. The conclusion suggests that love, to be genuine and enduring, must be based on the reality of the beloved’s character and self, not on external appearance or borrowed attractions. The play also suggests that a woman’s true self, even if it does not conform to conventional expectations of femininity, can be the basis for a lasting and meaningful love. The gods’ boon, which brought Chitra the love she desired, ultimately serves a larger purpose: it teaches both lovers the importance of truth and the value of the abiding over the fleeting. The play ends with the lovers united, not in the ecstasy of the past year but in the deeper, more enduring bond of truth and mutual recognition.
Significance
Chitra is significant as an example of Tagore’s engagement with classical Indian sources and his transformation of them into modern lyrical drama. The play takes a brief episode from the Mahabharata and expands it into a meditation on love, identity, and truth, demonstrating Tagore’s ability to find universal themes in ancient stories. The play’s exploration of gender and womanhood, its questioning of conventional roles, and its affirmation of the value of a woman’s true self are notable for their time and remain relevant. The play’s treatment of the tension between illusion and reality in love, and its resolution in favor of truth, offers a philosophical perspective on the nature of romantic attachment. The play’s lyrical language and rich natural imagery are characteristic of Tagore’s style, and its structure—alternating between the lovers’ dialogues and the gods’ commentary—creates a distinctive dramatic rhythm. The play’s publication by Macmillan in 1926, with its dedication to an American literary figure, indicates its place in the international circulation of Tagore’s work and its reception in the English-speaking world. The play’s adaptation of a classical Indian epic for a modern audience, its engagement with universal themes of love and identity, and its lyrical beauty all contribute to its enduring significance.
