Opening…

Book I

PAGE Chapter I.

Introduction, 1-5 Curse of Pushpadanta and Mályaván, 4-5

Chapter II

Story of Pushpadanta when living on the earth as Vararuchi, 5-10 How Kánabhúti became a Pisácha, 6-7 Story of Vararuchi's teacher Varsha, and his fellow-pupils Vyádi and Indradatta, 7-10

Chapter III

Continuation of the story of Vararuchi, 11-16 Story of the founding of the city of Pátaliputra, 11-16 Story of king Brahmadatta, 12-13

Chapter IV

Continuation of the story of Vararuchi, 16-23 Story of Upakosá and her four lovers, 17-20

Chapter V

Conclusion of the story of Vararuchi, 23-31 Story of Sivasarman, 27-28

Chapter VI

Story of Mályaván when living on the earth as Gunádhya, 32-40 Story of the Mouse-merchant, 33-34 Story of the chanter of the Sáma Veda, 34-35 Story of Sátaváhana, 36-37

Chapter VII

Continuation of the story of Gunádhya, 41-47 How Pushpadanta got his name, 43-46 Story of king Sivi, 45-46

Chapter VIII

Continuation of the story of Gunádhya, 47-49 Siva's tales, originally composed by Gunádhya in the Paisácha language, are made known in Sanskrit under the title of Vrihat Kathá, 49

Chapter IX

Story of the ancestors and parents of Udayana, king of Vatsa, 52-56

Chapter X

Continuation of the story of Udayana's parents, 56-67 Story of Srídatta and Mrigánkavatí, 56-66 Udayana succeeds to the kingdom of Vatsa, 67

Chapter XI

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 67-71 Story of king Chandamahásena, 69-71

Chapter XII

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 72-82 Story of Rúpiniká, 76-82

Chapter XIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 82-93 Story of Devasmitá, 85-92 Story of the cunning Siddhikarí, 87-88 Story of Saktimatí, 91-92

Chapter XIV

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 94-98 Story of the clever deformed child, 96 Story of Ruru, 97-98

Chapter XV

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 101-109 Story of the clever physician, 101-102 Story of the hypocritical ascetic, 102-104 Story of Unmádiní, 104-105 Story of the loving couple who died of separation, 105-106 Story of Punyasena, 106 Story of Sunda and Upasunda, 108

Chapter XVI

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 109-115 Story of Kuntí, 110-111

Chapter XVII

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 115-124 Story of Urvasí, 115-117 Story of Vihitasena, 117 Story of Somaprabhá, 118-122 Story of Ahalyá, 122-123

Chapter XVIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 124-145 Story of Vidúshaka, 128-144

Chapter XIX

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 145-152 Story of Devadása, 146-147

Chapter XX

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 152-164 Story of Phalabhúti, 152-163 Story of Kuvalayávalí and the witch Kálarátri, 155-158 Story of the birth of Kártikeya, 155-157 Story of Sundaraka and Kálarátri, 158-161

Chapter XXI

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 165-173 Story of Pándu, 166 Story of Devadatta, 168-170 Story of Pingaliká, 170-171

Chapter XXII

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 173-186 Story of Jímútaváhana, 174-186 Story of Jímútaváhana's adventures in a former life, 176-181 Story of Kadrú and Vinatá, 182-183

Chapter XXIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana, 186-191 Story of Sinhaparákrama, 188 Birth of Udayana's son Naraváhanadatta, 189

Chapter XXIV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 193-204 Story of Saktivega, king of the Vidyádharas, 194-204 Story of Siva and Mádhava, 197-202 Story of Harasvámin, 203-204

Chapter XXV

Continuation of the story of Saktivega, 205-219 Story of Asokadatta and Vijayadatta, 208-219

Chapter XXVI

Conclusion of the story of Saktivega, 220-233 Story of Devadatta, 229-231 Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 233

Chapter XXVII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 235-246 Story of Kalingadatta, king of Takshasilá, 235-246 Story of the merchant's son in Takshasilá, 236-238 Story of the Apsaras Surabhidattá, 238-239 Story of king Dharmadatta and his wife Nágasrí, 239-240 Story of the seven Bráhmans who devoured a cow in time of famine, 241 Story of the two ascetics, the one a Bráhman, the other a Chandála, 241-242 Story of king Vikramasinha and the two Bráhmans, 242-246

Chapter XXVIII

Continuation of the story of Kalingadatta, 246-257 Birth of his daughter Kalingasená, 246 Story of the seven princesses, 247-249 Story of the prince who tore out his own eye, 247-248 Story of the ascetic who conquered anger, 248-249 Story of Sulochaná and Sushena, 249-252 Story of the prince and the merchant's son who saved his life, 253-255 Story of the Bráhman and the Pisácha, 255-256

Chapter XXIX

Continuation of the story of Kalingadatta, 257-267 Story of Kírtisená and her cruel mother-in-law, 260-267

Chapter XXX

Continuation of the story of Kalingadatta, 267-274 Story of Tejasvatí, 270-271 Story of the Bráhman Harisarman, 272-274

Chapter XXXI

Conclusion of the story of Kalingadatta, 276-278 Story of Ushá and Aniruddha, 276-277 Kalingasená, daughter of Kalingadatta, escapes to Vatsa, 278 Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 278-280

Chapter XXXII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 281-291 Story of the Bráhman's son Vishnudatta and his seven foolish companions, 283-285 Story of Kadalígarbhá, 286-290 Story of the king and the barber's wife, 288-289

Chapter XXXIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 291-302 Story of Srutasena, 292-295 Story of the three Bráhman brothers, 293 Story of Devasena and Unmádiní, 294 Story of the ichneumon, the owl, the cat and the mouse, 296-298 Story of king Prasenajit and the Bráhman who lost his treasure, 298-299

Chapter XXXIV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 302-317 Story of king Indradatta, 303 Story of the Yaksha Virúpáksha, 306-307 Story of Satrughna and his wicked wife, 312 Story of king Súrasena and his ministers, 313-314 Story of king Harisinha, 314

Chapter XXXV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 319-327 Story of Ratnaprabhá, 320-326 Story of Sattvasíla and the two treasures, 321-322 Story of the brave king Vikramatunga, 322-323

Chapter XXXVI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 328-334 Story of king Ratnádhipati and the white elephant Svetarasmi, 328-334 Story of Yavanasena, 331-332

Chapter XXXVII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 334-346 Story of Nischayadatta, 334-346 Story of Somasvámin, 339-341 Story of Bhavasarman, 342-343

Chapter XXXVIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 346-354 Story of king Vikramáditya and the hetæra, 347-354 Story of king Vikramáditya and the treacherous mendicant, 349-350

Chapter XXXIX

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 355-367 Story of Sringabhuja and the daughter of the Rákshasa, 355-367

Chapter XL

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 369-375 Story of Tapodatta, 370 Story of Virúpasarman, 371 Story of king Vilásasíla and the physician Tarunachandra, 372-375

Chapter XLI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 376-379 Story of king Chiráyus and his minister Nágárjuna, 376-378

Chapter XLII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 379-390 Story of king Parityágasena, his wicked wife, and his two sons, 381-389

Chapter XLIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 390-403 Story of the two brothers Pránadhara and Rájyadhara, 391-393 Story of Arthalobha and his beautiful wife, 393-396 Story of the princess Karpúriká in her birth as a swan, 397-398

Chapter XLIV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 405-406 Story of Súryaprabha, 406-414

Chapter XLV

Continuation of the story of Súryaprabha, 414-434 Story of the Bráhman Kála, 418-419

Chapter XLVI

Continuation of the story of Súryaprabha, 434-446 Story of the generous Dánava Namuchi, 444-446

Chapter XLVIII

Continuation of the story of Súryaprabha, 452-459 Adventure of the witch Sarabhánaná, 458

Chapter XLIX

Continuation of the story of Súryaprabha, 459-471 Story of king Mahásena and his virtuous minister Gunasarman, 459-471

Chapter L

Conclusion of the story of Súryaprabha, 472-481 Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 481

Chapter LI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 483-494 Story of Alankáravatí, 484-485 Story of Ráma and Sítá, 486-488 Story of the handsome king Prithvírúpa, 489-492

Chapter LII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 494-515 Story of Asokamálá, 496-498 Story of Sthúlabhuja, 497-498 Story of Anangarati and her four suitors, 498-514 Story of Anangarati in a former birth, 502-503

Chapter LIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 515-524 Story of king Lakshadatta and his dependent Labdhadatta, 515-518 Story of the Bráhman Víravara, 519-524 Story of Suprabha, 520-521

Chapter LIV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 524-537 Story of the merchant Samudrasúra, 529-531 Story of king Chamarabála, 532-536 Story of Yasovarman and the two fortunes, 532-535

Chapter LV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 537-549 Story of Chiradátri, 537-538 Story of king Kanakavarsha and Madanasundarí, 538-549

Chapter LVI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son, 549-569 Story of the Bráhman Chandrasvámin, his son Mahípála, and his daughter Chandravatí, 549-569 Story of Chakra, 554-556 Story of the hermit and the faithful wife, 556-557 Story of Dharmavyádha, the righteous seller of flesh, 557 Story of the treacherous Pásupata ascetic, 558-559 Story of king Tribhuvana, 558-559 Story of Nala and Damayantí, 559-568

Chapter LVII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 1-10 Story of the porter who found a bracelet 1-2 Story of the inexhaustible pitcher 2-4 Story of the merchant's son, the hetæra and the wonderful ape Ála 4-10

Chapter LVIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 10-17 Story of king Vikramasinha, the hetæra and the young Bráhman 11-13 Story of the faithless wife who burnt herself with her husband's body 13-14 Story of the faithless wife who had her husband murdered 14 Story of Vajrasára whose wife cut off his nose and ears 14-16 Story of king Sinhabala and his faithless wife 16-17

Chapter LIX

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 17-26 Story of king Sumanas, the Nisháda maiden, and the learned parrot 18-26 The parrot's account of his own life as a parrot 19-21 The hermit's story of Somaprabha, Manorathaprabhá, and Makarandiká 21-25 Episode of Manorathaprabhá and Rasmimat 22-23

Chapter LX

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 27-43 Story of Súravarman who spared his guilty wife 27 Story of the ox abandoned in the forest, and the lion, and the two jackals 27-43 Story of the monkey that pulled out the wedge 28 Story of the jackal and the drum 30 Story of the crane and the Makara 31-32 Story of the lion and the hare 32-33 Story of the louse and the flea 34 Story of the lion, the panther, the crow and the jackal 35-36 Story of the pair of titthibhas 36-38 Story of the tortoise and the two swans 37 Story of the three fish 37-38 Story of the monkeys, the firefly and the bird 39 Story of Dharmabuddhi and Dushtabuddhi 40-41 Story of the crane, the snake, and the mungoose 41 Story of the mice that ate an iron balance 41-42

Chapter LXI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 41-63 Story of the foolish merchant who made aloes-wood into charcoal 44 Story of the man who sowed roasted seed 44 Story of the man who mixed fire and water 44 Story of the man who tried to improve his wife's nose 45 Story of the foolish herdsman 45 Story of the fool and the ornaments 45 Story of the fool and the cotton 45 Story of the foolish villagers who cut down the palm-trees 46 Story of the treasure-finder who was blinded 46 Story of the fool and the salt 46-47 Story of the fool and his milch-cow 47 Story of the foolish bald man and the fool who pelted him 47 Story of the crow, and the king of the pigeons, the tortoise and the deer 48-52 Story of the mouse and the hermit 49-51 Story of the Bráhman's wife and the sesame-seeds 50-51 Story of the greedy jackal 50 Story of the wife who falsely accused her husband of murdering a Bhilla 53-54 Story of the snake who told his secret to a woman 54-55 Story of the bald man and the hair-restorer 55 Story of a foolish servant 55 Story of the faithless wife who was present at her own Sráddha 55-56 Story of the ambitious Chandála maiden 56 Story of the miserly king 57 Story of Dhavalamukha, his trading friend, and his fighting friend 57-58 Story of the thirsty fool that did not drink 58 Story of the fool who killed his son 58 Story of the fool and his brother 58 Story of the Brahmachárin's son 59 Story of the astrologer who killed his son 59 Story of the violent man who justified his character 59-60 Story of the foolish king who made his daughter grow 60 Story of the man who recovered half a pana from his servant 60 Story of the fool who took notes of a certain spot in the sea 60-61 Story of the king who replaced the flesh 61 Story of the woman who wanted another son 61 Story of the servant who tasted the fruit 62 Story of the two brothers Yajnasoma and Kírtisoma 62-63 Story of the fool who wanted a barber 63 Story of the man who asked for nothing at all 63

Chapter LXII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 64-79 Story of the war between the crows and the owls 64-75 Story of the ass in the panther's skin 65 How the crow dissuaded the birds from choosing the owl king 65-68 Story of the elephant and the hares 66-67 Story of the bird, the hare, and the cat 67-68 Story of the Bráhman, the goat, and the rogues 68-69 Story of the old merchant and his young wife 69-70 Story of the Bráhman, the thief, and the Rákshasa 70 Story of the carpenter and his wife 71-72 Story of the mouse that was turned into a maiden 72-73 Story of the snake and the frogs 74 Story of the foolish servant 75 Story of the two brothers who divided all that they had 75 Story of the mendicant who became emaciated from discontent 75-76 Story of the fool who saw gold in the water 76 Story of the servants who kept rain off the trunks 76-77 Story of the fool and the cakes 77 Story of the servant who looked after the door 77 Story of the simpletons who ate the buffalo 77-78 Story of the fool who behaved like a Brahmany drake 78 Story of the physician who tried to cure a hunchback 78-79

Chapter LXIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 79-90 Story of Yasodhara and Lakshmídhara and the two wives of the water-genius 79-83 Story of the water-genius in his previous birth 82 Story of the Bráhman who became a Yaksha 83 Story of the monkey and the porpoise 84-87 Story of the sick lion, the jackal, and the ass 85-87 Story of the fool who gave a verbal reward to the musician 87 Story of the teacher and his two jealous pupils 88 Story of the snake with two heads 88-89 Story of the fool who was nearly choked with rice 89 Story of the boys that milked the donkey 89-90 Story of the foolish boy that went to the village for nothing 90

Chapter LXIV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 90-100 Story of the Bráhman and the mungoose 90-91 Story of the fool that was his own doctor 91 Story of the fool who mistook hermits for monkeys 91-92 Story of the fool who found a purse 92 Story of the fool who looked for the moon 92 Story of the woman who escaped from the monkey and the cowherd 92-93 Story of the two thieves Ghata and Karpara 93-96 Story of Devadatta's wife 96 Story of the wife of the Bráhman Rudrasoma 96-97 Story of the wife of Susin 97-98 Story of the snake-god and his wife 98-99

Chapter LXV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 101-115 Story of the ungrateful wife 101-103 Story of the grateful animals and the ungrateful woman 103-108 The lion's story 104-105 The golden-crested bird's story 105-106 The snake's story 106 The woman's story 106 Story of the Buddhist monk who was bitten by a dog 108-109 Story of the man who submitted to be burnt alive sooner than share his food with a guest 109-110 Story of the foolish teacher, the foolish pupils, and the cat 110-111 Story of the fools and the bull of Siva 111-112 Story of the fool who asked his way to the village 112 Story of Hiranyáksha and Mrigánkalekhá 113-115

Chapter LXVI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 115-124 Story of the mendicant who travelled from Kasmíra to Pátaliputra 115-118 Story of the wife of king Sinháksha, and the wives of his principal courtiers 116-118 Story of the woman who had eleven husbands 119 Story of the man who, thanks to Durgá, had always one ox 119-120 Story of the man who managed to acquire wealth by speaking to the king 120-121 Story of Ratnarekhá and Lakshmísena 121-124 Marriage of Naraváhanadatta and Saktiyasas 124

Chapter LXVII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 125-131 Story of the race between the elephant and the horses 125-126 Story of the merchant and his wife Velá 127-131 Marriage of Naraváhanadatta and Jayendrasená 131

Chapter LXVIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 133-137 Marriage of Naraváhanadatta and Lalitalochaná 134 Story of the jackal that was turned into an elephant 134 Story of Vámadatta and his wicked wife 134-137

Chapter LXIX

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 137-138 Story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 138-146 Story of king Bhadrabáhu and his clever minister 139-141 Story of Pushkaráksha and Vinayavatí 141-146 Story of the birth of Vinayavatí 141-142 The adventures of Pushkaráksha and Vinayavatí in a former life 143-145 Story of Lávanyamanjarí 145

Chapter LXX

Continuation of the Story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 146-154 Story of Srutadhi 148

Chapter LXXI

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 154-169 Story of Kamalákara and Hansávalí 157-167

Chapter LXXII

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 170-191 Story of king Vinítamati who became a holy man 171-191 Story of the holy boar 176-178 Story of Devabhúti 180-181 Story of the generous Induprabha 181-182 Story of the parrot who was taught virtue by the king of the parrots 182-183 Story of the patient hermit Subhanaya 183-184 Story of the persevering young Bráhman 184 Story of Malayamálin 184-186 Story of the robber who won over Yama's secretary 186-189

Chapter LXXIII

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 191-214 Story of Srídarsana 192-214 Story of Saudáminí 193-194 Story of Bhúnandana 196-201

Chapter LXXIV

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 214-231 Story of Bhímabhata 215-230 Story of Akshakshapanaka 222-223

Chapter LXXV

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 231-232 Story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 232-241 Story of the prince who was helped to a wife by the son of his father's minister 234-241

Chapter LXXVI

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 242-244 Story of the three young Bráhmans who restored a dead lady to life 242-244

Chapter LXXVII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 245-250 Story of the king and the two wise birds 245-250 The maina's story 246-247 The parrot's story 247-250

Chapter LXXVIII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 251-257 Story of Víravara 251-256

Chapter LXXIX

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 257-260 Story of Somaprabhá and her three sisters 258-260

Chapter LXXX

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 261-264 Story of the lady who caused her brother and husband to change heads 261-264

Chapter LXXXI

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 265-271 Story of the king who married his dependent to the Nereid 265-271

Chapter LXXXII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 271-274 Story of the three fastidious men 271-273

Chapter LXXXIII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 275-277 Story of Anangarati and her four suitors 275-277

Chapter LXXXIV

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 281-283 Story of Madanasená and her rash promise 278-280

Chapter LXXXV

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 281-283 Story of king Dharmadhvaja and his three very sensitive wives 281-283

Chapter LXXXVI

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 284-293 Story of king Yasahketu, his Vidyádharí wife and his faithful minister 284-292

Chapter LXXXVII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 293-297 Story of Harisvámin who first lost his wife and then his life 293-296

Chapter LXXXVIII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 297-300 Story of the merchant's daughter who fell in love with a thief 297-300

Chapter LXXXIX

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 301-307 Story of the magic globule 301-306

Chapter XC

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 307-318 Story of Jímútaváhana 307-317

Chapter XCI

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 318-322 Story of Unmádiní 318-321

Chapter XCII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 322-327 Story of the Bráhman's son who failed to acquire the magic power 323-327

Chapter XCIII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 328-334 Story of the thief's son 328-334

Chapter XCIV

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 334-342 Story of the Bráhman boy who offered himself up to save the life of the king 335-341

Chapter XCV

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 342-347 Story of Anangamanjarí, her husband Manivarman, and the Bráhman Kamalákara 342-347

Chapter XCVI

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 348-350 Story of the four Bráhman brothers who resuscitated the tiger 348-350

Chapter XCVII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 351-351 Story of the Hermit who first wept and then danced 351-353

Chapter XCVIII

Continuation of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 354-358 Story of the father that married the daughter and the son that married the mother 354-357

Chapter XCIX

Conclusion of the story of king Trivikramasena and the Vampire 358-360 Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 360-362

Chapter C

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 362-365

Chapter CI

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 366-386 Story of Sundarasena and Mandáravatí 368-385

Chapter CII

Continuation of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 387-396

Chapter CIII

Conclusion of the story of Mrigánkadatta and Sasánkavatí 396-409 Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 409

Chapter CIV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 411-423 Story of the two Bráhman friends 412-423

Chapter CV

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 425-430 Story of Sávitrí and Angiras 426-427

Chapter CVI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 430-441 Story of the child that died of a broken heart 435-436

Chapter CVII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 441-448 Story of Ráma 442

Chapter CVIII

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 448-460 Story of Nágasvámin and the witches 449-452 Story of Marubhúti and the mermaids and the gold-producing grains 452-454

Chapter CIX

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 461-469 History of the cave of Trisírsha 464-465

Chapter CX

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 469-478 Naraváhanadatta crowned emperor of the Vidyádharas 473-474

Chapter CXI

Continuation of the story of Udayana and his son 479-483 Story of the devoted couple Súrasena and Sushená 480-481 Death of Chandamahásena and Angáravatí 482 Death of Udayana king of Vatsa 483 Continuation of the story of Naraváhanadatta son of Udayana 484-485

Chapter CXII

Continuation of the story of Naraváhanadatta son of Udayana 485-497 Story of king Chandamahásena and the Asura's daughter 486-488 Story of prince Avantivardhana and the daughter of the Mátanga 488-496 Story of the young Chandála who married the daughter of king Prasenajit 490-491 Story of the young fisherman who married a princess 491-493 Story of the Merchant's daughter who fell in love with a thief 493-495

Chapter CXIII

Continuation of the story of Naraváhanadatta son of Udayana 497-503 Story of Tárávaloka 498-503

Chapter CXIV

Continuation of the story of Naraváhanadatta son of Udayana 505-513 Story of king Brahmadatta and the swans 506-513 How Párvatí condemned her five attendants to be reborn on earth 508-510 Story of the metamorphoses of Pingesvara and Guhesvara 510-513

Chapter CXV

Continuation of The story of Brahmadatta and the swans 513-514 Story of Muktáphalaketu and Padmávatí 514-522

Chapter CXVI

Continuation of the story of Muktáphalaketu and Padmávatí 522-528

Chapter CXVII

Continuation of the story of Muktáphalaketu and Padmávatí 528-538

Chapter CXVIII

Continuation of the story of Muktáphalaketu and Padmávatí 538-549

Chapter CXIX

Conclusion of the story of Muktáphalaketu and Padmávatí 549-561 Conclusion of the story of Brahmadatta and the swans 561 Continuation of the story of Naraváhanadatta son of Udayana 561

Chapter CXX

Continuation of the story of Naraváhanadatta son of Udayana 563 Story of Vikramáditya king of Ujjayiní 563-570

Chapter CXXI

Continuation of the story of Vikramáditya king of Ujjayiní 571-586 Story of Madanamanjarí 571-583 Story of the gambler Dágineya 572-574 Story of Thinthákarála the bold gambler 574-582 Story of the gambler who cheated Yama 581 Story of Ghanta and Nighanta and the two maidens 583 Story of the golden deer 584

Chapter CXXII

Continuation of the story of Vikramáditya king of Ujjayiní 586-593 Story of Malayavatí the man-hating maiden 587-593

Chapter CXXIII

Continuation of the Story of Vikramáditya king of Ujjayiní 593 Story of Kalingasená's marriage 593-611 How Devasena obtained the magic ointment 594 Story of the grateful monkey 596-597 Story of the two princesses 598-599 Story of Dhanadatta 600-601 Story of Kesata and Kandarpa 601-610 Story of Kusumáyudha and Kamalalochaná 606-607

Chapter CXXIV

Conclusion of the story of Kalingasená's marriage 611-614 Story of Chandrasvámin 611-612 Conclusion of the story of Vikramáditya king of Ujjayiní 614-624 Story of Devasvámin 616-617 Story of Agnisarman 617-618 Story of Múladeva 618-624 Conclusion of the story of Naraváhanadatta son of Udayana 624 Conclusion of the Kathá Sarit Ságara 625

TRANSLATION OF THE KATHÁ SARIT SÁGARA OR OCEAN OF THE STREAMS OF STORY.

Chapter I

May the dark neck of Siva, which the god of love has, so to speak, surrounded with nooses in the form of the alluring looks of Párvatí reclining on his bosom, assign to you prosperity.

May that victor of obstacles, [1] who after sweeping away the stars with his trunk in the delirious joy of the evening dance, seems to create others with the spray issuing from his hissing [2] mouth, protect you.

After worshipping the goddess of Speech, the lamp that illuminates countless objects, [3] I compose this collection which contains the pith of the Vríhat-Kathá.

The first book in my collection is called Kathápítha, then comes Kathámukha, then the third book named Lávánaka, then follows Naraváhanadattajanana, and then the book called Chaturdáriká, and then Madanamanchuká, then the seventh book named Ratnaprabhá, and then the eighth book named Súryaprabhá, then Alankáravatí, then Saktiyasas, and then the eleventh book called Velá, then comes Sasánkavatí, and then Madirávatí, then comes the book called Pancha followed by Mahábhisheka, and then Suratamanjarí, then Padmávatí, and then will follow the eighteenth book Vishamasíla.

This book is precisely on the model of that from which it is taken, there is not even the slightest deviation, only such language is selected as tends to abridge the prolixity of the work; the observance of propriety and natural connexion, and the joining together of the portions of the poem so as not to interfere with the spirit of the stories, are as far as possible kept in view: I have not made this attempt through desire of a reputation for ingenuity, but in order to facilitate the recollection of a multitude of various tales.

There is a mountain celebrated under the name of Himavat, haunted by Kinnaras, Gandharvas, and Vidyádharas, a very monarch of mighty hills, whose glory has attained such an eminence among mountains that Bhavání the mother of the three worlds deigned to become his daughter; the northernmost summit thereof is a great peak named Kailása, which towers many thousand yojanas in the air, [4] and as it were, laughs forth with its snowy gleams this boast--"Mount Mandara [5] did not become white as mortar even when the ocean was churned with it, but I have become such without an effort." There dwells Mahesvara the beloved of Párvatí, the chief of things animate and inanimate, attended upon by Ganas, Vidyádharas and Siddhas. In the upstanding yellow tufts of his matted hair, the new moon enjoys the delight of touching the eastern mountain yellow in the evening twilight. When he drove his trident into the heart of Andhaka, the king of the Asuras, though he was only one, the dart which that monarch had infixed in the heart of the three worlds was, strange to say, extracted. The image of his toe-nails being reflected in the crest-jewels of the gods and Asuras made them seem as if they had been presented with half moons by his favour. [6] Once on a time that lord, the husband of Párvatí, was gratified with praises by his wife, having gained confidence as she sat in secret with him; the moon-crested one attentive to her praise and delighted, placed her on his lap, and said, "What can I do to please thee?" Then the daughter of the mountain spake--"My lord, if thou art satisfied with me, then tell me some delightful story that is quite new." And Siva said to her, "What can there be in the world, my beloved, present, past, or future that thou dost not know?" Then that goddess, beloved of Siva, importuned him eagerly because she was proud in soul on account of his affection.

Then Siva wishing to flatter her, began by telling her a very short story, referring to her own divine power.

"Once on a time [7] Brahmá and Náráyana roaming through the world in order to behold me, came to the foot of Himavat. Then they beheld there in front of them a great flame-linga; [8] in order to discover the end of it, one of them went up, and the other down; and when they could not find the end of it, they proceeded to propitiate me by means of austerities: and I appeared to them and bade them ask for some boon: hearing that Brahmá asked me to become his son; on that account he has ceased to be worthy of worship, disgraced by his overweening presumption.

"Then that god Náráyana craved a boon of me, saying--Oh revered one, may I become devoted to thy service! Then he became incarnate, and was born as mine in thy form; for thou art the same as Náráyana, the power of me all-powerful.

"Moreover thou wast my wife in a former birth." When Siva had thus spoken, Párvatí asked, "How can I have been thy wife in a former birth?" Then Siva answered her. "Long ago to the Prajápati Daksha were born many daughters, and amongst them thou, O goddess! He gave thee in marriage to me, and the others to Dharma and the rest of the gods. Once on a time he invited all his sons-in-law to a sacrifice. But I alone was not included in the invitation; thereupon thou didst ask him to tell thee why thy husband was not invited. Then he uttered a speech which pierced thy ears like a poisoned needle; 'Thy husband wears a necklace of skulls; how can he be invited to a sacrifice?'

"And then thou, my beloved, didst in anger abandon thy body, exclaiming,--'This father of mine is a villain; what profit have I then in this carcase sprung from him?'

"And thereupon in wrath I destroyed that sacrifice of Daksha. Then thou wast born as the daughter of the mount of snow, as the moon's digit springs from the sea. Then recall how I came to the Himálaya in order to perform austerities; and thy father ordered thee to do me service as his guest: and there the god of love who had been sent by the gods in order that they might obtain from me a son to oppose Táraka, was consumed, [9] when endeavouring to pierce me, having obtained a favourable opportunity. Then I was purchased by thee, [10] the enduring one, with severe austerities, and I accepted this proposal of thine, my beloved, in order that I might add this merit to my stock. [11] Thus it is clear that thou wast my wife in a former birth. What else shall I tell thee?" Thus Siva spake, and when he had ceased, the goddess transported with wrath, exclaimed,--"Thou art a deceiver; thou wilt not tell me a pleasing tale even though I ask thee: Do I not know that thou worshippest Sandhyá, and bearest Gangá on thy head?" Hearing that, Siva proceeded to conciliate her and promised to tell her a wonderful tale: then she dismissed her anger. She herself gave the order that no one was to enter where they were; Nandin [12] thereupon kept the door, and Siva began to speak.

"The gods are supremely blessed, men are ever miserable, the actions of demigods are exceedingly charming, therefore I now proceed to relate to thee the history of the Vidyádharas." While Siva was thus speaking to his consort, there arrived a favourite dependant of Siva's, Pushpadanta, best of Ganas, [13] and his entrance was forbidden by Nandin who was guarding the door. Curious to know why even he had been forbidden to enter at that time without any apparent reason, Pushpadanta immediately entered, making use of his magic power attained by devotion to prevent his being seen, and when he had thus entered, he heard all the extraordinary and wonderful adventures of the seven Vidyádharas being narrated by the trident-bearing god, and having heard them he in turn went and narrated them to his wife Jayá; for who can hide wealth or a secret from women? Jayá the doorkeeper being filled with wonder went and recited it in the presence of Párvatí. How can women be expected to restrain their speech? And then the daughter of the mountain flew into a passion, and said to her husband, "Thou didst not tell me any extraordinary tale, for Jayá knows it also." Then the lord of Umá, perceiving the truth by profound meditation, thus spake: "Pushpadanta employing the magic power of devotion entered in where we were, and thus managed to hear it. He narrated it to Jayá; no one else knows it, my beloved."

Having heard this, the goddess exceedingly enraged caused Pushpadanta to be summoned, and cursed him, as he stood trembling before her, saying, "Become a mortal thou disobedient servant." [14] She cursed also the Gana Mályaván who presumed to intercede on his behalf. Then the two fell at her feet together with Jayá and entreated her to say when the curse would end, and the wife of Siva slowly uttered this speech--"A Yaksha named Supratíka who has been made a Pisácha by the curse of Kuvera is residing in the Vindhya forest under the name of Kánabhúti. When thou shalt see him and, calling to mind thy origin, tell him this tale, then, Pushpadanta, thou shalt be released from this curse. And when Mályaván shall hear this tale from Kánabhúti, then Kánabhúti shall be released, and thou, Mályaván, when thou hast published it abroad, shalt be free also." Having thus spoken the daughter of the mountain ceased, and immediately those Ganas disappeared instantaneously like flashes of lightning. Then it came to pass in the course of time that Gaurí full of pity asked Siva, "My lord, where on the earth have those excellent Pramathas [15] whom I cursed, been born?" And the moon-diademed god answered: "My beloved, Pushpadanta has been born under the name of Vararuchi in that great city which is called Kausámbí. [16] Moreover Mályaván also has been born in the splendid city called Supratishthita under the name of Gunádhya. This, O goddess, is what has befallen them." Having given her this information with grief caused by recalling to mind the degradation of the servants that had always been obedient to him, that lord continued to dwell with his beloved in pleasure-arbours on the slopes of mount Kailása, which were made of the branches of the Kalpa tree. [17]

Chapter II

Then Pushpadanta wandering on the earth in the form of a man, was known by the name of Vararuchi and Kátyáyana. Having attained perfection in the sciences, and having served Nanda as minister, being wearied out he went once on a time to visit the shrine of Durgá. [18] And that goddess, being pleased with his austerities, ordered him in a dream to repair to the wilds of the Vindhya to behold Kánabhúti. And as he wandered about there in a waterless and savage wood, [19] full of tigers and apes, he beheld a lofty Nyagrodha tree. [20] And near it he saw, surrounded by hundreds of Pisáchas, that Pisácha Kánabhúti, in stature like a Sála tree. When Kánabhúti had seen him and respectfully clasped his feet, Kátyáyana sitting down immediately spake to him. "Thou art an observer of the good custom; how hast thou come into this state?" Having heard this Kánabhúti said to Kátyáyana, who had shewn affection towards him, "I know not of myself, but listen to what I heard from Siva at Ujjayiní in the place where corpses are burnt; I proceed to tell it thee." The adorable god was asked by Durgá--"Whence, my lord, comes thy delight in skulls and burning-places?" He thereupon gave this answer.

"Long ago when all things had been destroyed at the end of a Kalpa, the universe became water: I then cleft my thigh and let fall a drop of blood; that drop falling into the water turned into an egg, from that sprang the Supreme Soul, [21] the Disposer; from him proceeded Nature, [22] created by me for the purpose of further creation, and they created the other lords of created beings, [23] and those in turn the created beings, for which reason, my beloved, the Supreme Soul is called in the world the grandfather. Having thus created the world, animate and inanimate, that Spirit became arrogant: [24] thereupon I cut off his head: then through regret for what I had done, I undertook a difficult vow. So thus it comes to pass that I carry skulls in my hand, and love the places where corpses are burned. Moreover this world resembling a skull, rests in my hand; for the two skull-shaped halves of the egg before mentioned are called heaven and earth." When Siva had thus spoken, I, being full of curiosity, determined to listen; and Párvatí again said to her husband, "After how long a time will that Pushpadanta return to us?" Hearing that, Mahesvara spoke to the goddess, pointing me out to her; "That Pisácha whom thou beholdest there, was once a Yaksha, a servant of Kuvera, the god of wealth, and he had for a friend a Rákshasa named Sthúlasiras; and the lord of wealth perceiving that he associated with that evil one, banished him to the wilds of the Vindhya mountains. But his brother Dírghajangha fell at the feet of the god, and humbly asked when the curse would end. Then the god of wealth said--"After thy brother has heard the great tale from Pushpadanta, who has been born into this world in consequence of a curse, and after he has in turn told it to Mályaván, who owing to a curse has become a human being, he together with those two Ganas shall be released from the effects of the curse." Such were the terms on which the god of wealth then ordained that Mályaván should obtain remission from his curse here below, and thou didst fix the same in the case of Pushpadanta; recall it to mind, my beloved." When I heard that speech of Siva, I came here overjoyed, knowing that the calamity of my curse would be terminated by the arrival of Pushpadanta. When Kánabhúti ceased after telling this story, that moment Vararuchi remembered his origin, and exclaimed like one aroused from sleep, "I am that very Pushpadanta, hear that tale from me." Thereupon Kátyáyana related to him the seven great tales in seven hundred thousand verses, and then Kánabhúti said to him--"My lord, thou art an incarnation of Siva, who else knows this story? Through thy favour that curse has almost left my body. Therefore tell me thy own history from thy birth, thou mighty one, sanctify me yet further, if the narrative may be revealed to such a one as I am." Then Vararuchi, to gratify Kánabhúti, who remained prostrate before him, told all his history from his birth at full length, in the following words:

Story of Vararuchi, his teacher Varsha, and his fellow-pupils Vyádi and Indradatta.

In the city of Kausámbí there lived a Bráhman called Somadatta, who also had the title of Agnisikha, and his wife was called Vasudattá. She was the daughter of a hermit, and was born into the world in this position in consequence of a curse; and I was born by her to this excellent Bráhman, also in consequence of a curse. Now while I was still quite a child my father died, but my mother continued to support me, as I grew up, by severe drudgery; then one day two Bráhmans came to our house to stop a night, exceedingly dusty with a long journey; and while they were staying in our house there arose the noise of a tabor, thereupon my mother said to me, sobbing, as she called to mind her husband--"there, my son, is your father's friend Bhavananda, giving a dramatic entertainment." I answered, "I will go and see it, and will exhibit the whole of it to you, with a recitation of all the speeches." On hearing that speech of mine, those Bráhmans were astonished, but my mother said to them--"Come, my children, there is no doubt about the truth of what he says; this boy will remember by heart everything that he has heard once." [25] Then they, in order to test me, recited to me a Prátisákhya [26]; immediately I repeated the whole in their presence, then I went with the two Bráhmans and saw that play, and when I came home, I went through the whole of it in front of my mother: then one of the Bráhmans, named Vyádi, having ascertained that I was able to recollect a thing on hearing it once, told with submissive reverence this tale to my mother.

Mother, in the city of Vetasa there were two Bráhman brothers, Deva-Swámin and Karambaka, who loved one another very dearly; this Indradatta here is the son of one of them, and I am the son of the other, and my name is Vyádi. It came to pass that my father died. Owing to grief for his loss, the father of Indradatta went on the long journey, [27] and then the hearts of our two mothers broke with grief; thereupon being orphans though we had wealth, [28] and, desiring to acquire learning, we went to the southern region to supplicate the lord Kártikeya. And while we were engaged in austerities there, the god gave us the following revelation in a dream. "There is a city called Pátaliputra, the capital of king Nanda, and in it there is a Bráhman, named Varsha, from him ye shall learn all knowledge, therefore go there." Then we went to that city, and when we made enquiries there, people said to us: "There is a blockhead of a Bráhman in this town, of the name of Varsha." Immediately we went on with minds in a state of suspense, and saw the house of Varsha in a miserable condition, made a very ant-hill by mice, dilapidated by the cracking of the walls, untidy, [29] deprived of eaves, looking like the very birth-place of misery.

Then, seeing Varsha plunged in meditation within the house, we approached his wife, who shewed us all proper hospitality; her body was emaciated and begrimed, her dress tattered and dirty; she looked like the incarnation of poverty, attracted thither by admiration for the Bráhman's virtues. Bending humbly before her, we then told her our circumstances, and the report of her husband's imbecility, which we heard in the city. She exclaimed--"My children, I am not ashamed to tell you the truth; listen! I will relate the whole story," and then she, chaste lady, proceeded to tell us the tale which follows:

There lived in this city an excellent Bráhman, named Sankara Svámin, and he had two sons, my husband Varsha, and Upavarsha; my husband was stupid and poor, and his younger brother was just the opposite: and Upavarsha appointed his own wife to manage his elder brother's house. [30] Then in the course of time, the rainy season came on, and at this time the women are in the habit of making a cake of flour mixed with molasses, of an unbecoming and disgusting shape, [31] and giving it to any Bráhman who is thought to be a blockhead, and if they act thus, this cake is said to remove their discomfort caused by bathing in the cold season, and their exhaustion [32] caused by bathing in the hot weather; but when it is given, Bráhmans refuse to receive it, on the ground that the custom is a disgusting one. This cake was presented by my sister-in-law to my husband, together with a sacrificial fee; he received it, and brought it home with him, and got a severe scolding from me; then he began to be inwardly consumed with grief at his own stupidity, and went to worship the sole of the foot of the god Kártikeya: the god, pleased with his austerities, bestowed on him the knowledge of all the sciences; and gave him this order--"When thou findest a Bráhman who can recollect what he has heard only once, then thou mayest reveal these"--thereupon my husband returned home delighted, and when he had reached home, told the whole story to me. From that time forth, he has remained continually muttering prayers and meditating: so find you some one who can remember anything after hearing it once, and bring him here: if you do that, you will both of you undoubtedly obtain all that you desire.

Having heard this from the wife of Varsha, and having immediately given her a hundred gold pieces to relieve her poverty, we went out of that city; then we wandered through the earth, and could not find anywhere a person who could remember what he had only heard once: at last we arrived tired out at your house to-day, and have found here this boy, your son, who can recollect anything after once hearing it: therefore give him us and let us go forth to acquire the commodity knowledge.

Having heard this speech of Vyádi, my mother said with respect, "All this tallies completely; I repose confidence in your tale: for long ago at the birth of this my only son, a distinct spiritual [33] voice was heard from heaven. "A boy has been born who shall be able to remember what he has heard once; he shall acquire knowledge from Varsha, and shall make the science of grammar famous in the world, and he shall be called Vararuchi by name, because whatever is excellent, [34] shall please him." Having uttered this, the voice ceased. Consequently, ever since this boy has grown big, I have been thinking, day and night, where that teacher Varsha can be, and to-day I have been exceedingly gratified at hearing it from your mouth. Therefore take him with you: what harm can there be in it, he is your brother?" When they heard this speech of my mother's, those two, Vyádi and Indradatta, overflowing with joy, thought that night but a moment in length. Then Vyádi quickly gave his own wealth to my mother to provide a feast, and desiring that I should be qualified to read the Vedas, invested me with the Bráhmanical thread. Then Vyádi and Indradatta took me, who managed by my own fortitude to control the excessive grief I felt at parting, while my mother in taking leave of me could with difficulty suppress her tears, and considering that the favour of Kártikeya towards them had now put forth blossom, set out rapidly from that city; then in course of time we arrived at the house of the teacher Varsha: he too considered that I was the favour of Kártikeya arrived in bodily form. The next day he placed us in front of him, and sitting down in a consecrated spot, he began to recite the syllable Om with heavenly voice. Immediately the Vedas with the six supplementary sciences rushed into his mind, and then he began to teach them to us; then I retained what the teacher told us after hearing it once, Vyádi after hearing it twice, and Indradatta after hearing it three times: then the Bráhmans of the city hearing of a sudden that divine sound, came at once from all quarters with wonder stirring in their breasts to see what this new thing might be; and with their reverend mouths loud in his praises honoured Varsha with low bows. Then beholding that wonderful miracle, not only Upavarsha, but all the citizens of Pátaliputra [35] kept high festival. Moreover the king Nanda of exalted fortune, seeing the power of the boon of the son of Siva, was delighted, and immediately filled the house of Varsha with wealth, shewing him every mark of respect. [36]

Chapter III

Having thus spoken while Kánabhúti was listening with intent mind, Vararuchi went on to tell his tale in the wood.

It came to pass in the course of time, that one day, when the reading of the Vedas was finished, the teacher Varsha, who had performed his daily ceremonies, was asked by us, "How comes it that such a city as this has become the home of Sarasvatí and Lakshmí, [37] tell us that, O teacher." Hearing this, he bade us listen, for that he was about to tell the history of the city.

Story of the founding of the city of Pátaliputra.

There is a sanctifying place of pilgrimage, named Kanakhala, at the point where the Ganges issues from the hills, [38] where the sacred stream was brought down from the table-land of mount Usínara, by Kánchanapáta the elephant of the gods, having cleft it asunder. [39] In that place lived a certain Bráhman from the Deccan, performing austerities in the company of his wife, and to him were born there three sons. In the course of time he and his wife went to heaven, and those sons of his went to a place named Rájagriha, for the sake of acquiring learning. And having studied the sciences there, the three, grieved at their unprotected condition, went to the Deccan in order to visit the shrine of the god Kártikeya. Then they reached a city named Chinchiní on the shore of the sea, and dwelt in the house of a Bráhman named Bhojika, and he gave them his three daughters in marriage, and bestowed on them all his wealth, and having no other children, went to the Ganges to perform austerities. And while they were living there in the house of their father-in-law, a terrible famine arose produced by drought, thereupon the three Bráhmans fled, abandoning their virtuous wives, (since no care for their families touches the hearts of cruel men,) then the middle one of the three sisters was found to be pregnant; and those ladies repaired to the house of Yajnadatta a friend of their father's: there they remained in a miserable condition, thinking each on her own husband, (for even in calamity women of good family do not forget the duties of virtuous wives). Now in course of time the middle one of the three sisters gave birth to a son, and they all three vied with one another in love towards him. So it happened once upon a time that, as Siva was roaming through the air, the mother of Skanda [40] who was reposing on Siva's breast, moved with compassion at seeing their love for their child, said to her husband, "My lord, observe, these three women feel great affection for this boy, and place hope in him, trusting that he may some day support them; therefore bring it about that he may be able to maintain them, even in his infancy." Having been thus entreated by his beloved, Siva, the giver of boons, thus answered her: I adopt him as my protégé, for in a previous birth he and his wife propitiated me, therefore he has been born on the earth to reap the fruit of his former austerities; and his former wife has been born again as Pátalí the daughter of the king Mahendravarman, and she shall be his wife in this birth also. Having said this, that mighty god told those three virtuous women in a dream,--"This young son of yours shall be called Putraka; and every day when he awakes from sleep, a hundred thousand gold pieces shall be found under his pillow, [41] and at last he shall become a king." Accordingly, when he woke up from sleep, those virtuous daughters of Yajnadatta found the gold and rejoiced that their vows and prayers had brought forth fruit. Then by means of that gold Putraka having in a short time accumulated great treasure, became a king, for good fortune is the result of austerities. [42] Once upon a time Yajnadatta said in private to Putraka,--"King, your father and uncles have gone away into the wide world on account of a famine, therefore give continually to Bráhmans, in order that they may hear of it and return: and now listen, I will tell you the story of Brahmadatta."

Story of king Brahmadatta. [43]

"There lived formerly in Benares a king named Brahmadatta. He saw a pair of swans flying in the air at night. They shone with the lustre of gleaming gold, and were begirt with hundreds of white swans, and so looked like a sudden flash of lightning, surrounded by white clouds. And his desire to behold them again kept increasing so mightily that he took no pleasure in the delights of royalty. And then having taken counsel with his ministers he caused a fair tank to be made according to a design of his own, and gave to all living creatures security from injury. In a short time he perceived that those two swans had settled in that lake, and when they had become tame he asked them the reason of their golden plumage. And then those swans addressed the king with an articulate voice. 'In a former birth, O king, we were born as crows; and when we were fighting for the remains of the daily offering [44] in a holy empty temple of Siva, we fell down and died within a sacred vessel belonging to that sanctuary, and consequently we have been born as golden swans with a remembrance of our former birth';--having heard this the king gazed on them to his heart's content, and derived great pleasure from watching them.

"Therefore you will gain back your father and uncles by an unparalleled gift." When Yajnadatta had given him this advice, Putraka did as he recommended; when they heard the tidings of the distribution those Bráhmans arrived: and when they were recognized they had great wealth bestowed on them, and were reunited to their wives. Strange to say, even after they have gone through calamities, wicked men having their minds blinded by want of discernment, are unable to put off their evil nature. After a time they hankered after royal power, and being desirous of murdering Putraka they enticed him under pretext of a pilgrimage to the temple of Durgá: and having stationed assassins in the inner sanctuary of the temple, they said to him, "First go and visit the goddess alone, step inside." Thereupon he entered boldly, but when he saw those assassins preparing to slay him, he asked them why they wished to kill him. They replied, "We were hired for gold to do it by your father and uncles." Then the discreet Putraka said to the assassins, whose senses were bewildered by the goddess, "I will give you this priceless jewelled ornament of mine. Spare me, I will not reveal your secret; I will go to a distant land." The assassins said, "So be it," and taking the ornament they departed, and falsely informed the father and uncles of Putraka that he was slain. Then those Bráhmans returned and endeavoured to get possession of the throne, but they were put to death by the ministers as traitors. How can the ungrateful prosper?

In the meanwhile that king Putraka, faithful to his promise, entered the impassable wilds of the Vindhya, disgusted with his relations: as he wandered about he saw two heroes engaged heart and soul in a wrestling-match, and he asked them who they were. They replied, "We are the two sons of the Asura Maya, and his wealth belongs to us, this vessel, and this stick, and these shoes; it is for these that we are fighting, and whichever of us proves the mightier is to take them." When he heard this speech of theirs, Putraka said with a smile--"That is a fine inheritance for a man." Then they said--"By putting on these shoes one gains the power of flying through the air; whatever is written with this staff turns out true; and whatever food a man wishes to have in the vessel is found there immediately." When he heard this, Putraka said--"What is the use of fighting? Make this agreement, that whoever proves the best man in running shall possess this wealth." [45] Those simpletons said--"Agreed"--and set off to run, while the prince put on the shoes and flew up into the air, taking with him the staff and the vessel; then he went a great distance in a short time and saw beneath him a beautiful city named Ákarshiká and descended into it from the sky. He reflected with himself; "hetæræ are prone to deceive, Bráhmans are like my father and uncles, and merchants are greedy of wealth; in whose house shall I dwell?" Just at that moment he reached a lonely dilapidated house, and saw a single old woman in it; so he gratified that old woman with a present, and lived unobserved in that broken down old house, waited upon respectfully by the old woman.

Once upon a time the old woman in an affectionate mood said to Putraka--"I am grieved, my son, that you have not a wife meet for you. But here there is a maiden named Pátalí, the daughter of the king, and she is preserved like a jewel in the upper story of a seraglio." While he was listening to this speech of hers with open ear, the god of love found an unguarded point, and entered by that very path into his heart. He made up his mind that he must see that damsel that very day, and in the night flew up through the air to where she was, by the help of his magic shoes. He then entered by a window, which was as high above the ground as the peak of a mountain, and beheld that Pátalí, asleep in a secret place in the seraglio, continually bathed in the moonlight that seemed to cling to her limbs: as it were the might of love in fleshly form reposing after the conquest of this world. While he was thinking how he should awake her, suddenly outside a watchman began to chant: "Young men obtain the fruit of their birth, when they awake the sleeping fair one, embracing her as she sweetly scolds, with her eyes languidly opening." On hearing this encouraging prelude, he embraced that fair one with limbs trembling with excitement, and then she awoke. When she beheld that prince, there was a contest between shame and love in her eye, which was alternately fixed on his face and averted. When they had conversed together, and gone through the ceremony of the Gándharva marriage, that couple found their love continually increasing, as the night waned away. Then Putraka took leave of his sorrowing wife, and with his mind dwelling only on her went in the last watch of the night to the old woman's house. So every night the prince kept going backwards and forwards, and at last the intrigue was discovered by the guards of the seraglio, accordingly they revealed the matter to the lady's father, and he appointed a woman to watch secretly in the seraglio at night. She, finding the prince asleep, made a mark with red lac upon his garment to facilitate his recognition. In the morning she informed the king of what she had done, and he sent out spies in all directions, and Putraka was discovered by the mark and dragged out from the dilapidated house into the presence of the king. Seeing that the king was enraged, he flew up into the air with the help of the shoes, and entered the palace of Pátalí. He said to her,--"We are discovered, therefore rise up, let us escape with the help of the shoes, and so taking Pátalí in his arms he flew away from that place through the air. [46] Then descending from heaven near the bank of the Ganges, he refreshed his weary beloved with cakes provided by means of the magic vessel. When Pátalí saw the power of Putraka she made a request to him, in accordance with which he sketched out with the staff a city furnished with a force of all four arms. [47] In that city he established himself as king, and his great power having attained full development, he subdued that father-in-law of his, and became ruler of the sea-engirdled earth. This is that same divine city, produced by magic, together with its citizens; hence it bears the name of Pátaliputra, and is the home of wealth and learning.

When we heard from the mouth of Varsha the above strange and extraordinarily marvellous story, our minds, O Kánabhúti, were for a long time delighted with thrilling wonder.

Chapter IV

Having related this episode to Kánabhúti in the Vindhya forest, Vararuchi again resumed the main thread of his narrative.

While thus dwelling there with Vyádi and Indradatta, I gradually attained perfection in all sciences, and emerged from the condition of childhood. Once on a time when we went out to witness the festival of Indra, we saw a maiden looking like some weapon of Cupid, not of the nature of an arrow. Then, Indradatta, on my asking him who that lady might be, replied,--"She is the daughter of Upavarsha, and her name is Upakosá," and she found out by means of her handmaids who I was, and drawing my soul after her with a glance made tender by love, she with difficulty managed to return to her own house. She had a face like a full moon, and eyes like a blue lotus, she had arms graceful like the stalk of a lotus, and a lovely full [48] bosom; she had a neck marked with three lines like a shell, [49] and magnificent coral lips; in short she was a second Lakshmí, so to speak, the store-house of the beauty of king Cupid. Then my heart was cleft by the stroke of love's arrow, and I could not sleep that night through my desire to kiss her bimba [50] lip. Having at last with difficulty gone off to sleep, I saw, at the close of night, a celestial woman in white garments; she said to me--"Upakosá was thy wife in a former birth; as she appreciates merit, she desires no one but thee, therefore, my son, thou oughtest not to feel anxious about this matter. I am Sarasvatí [51] that dwell continually in thy frame, I cannot bear to behold thy grief." When she had said this, she disappeared. Then I woke up and somewhat encouraged I went slowly and stood under a young mango tree near the house of my beloved; then her confidante came and told me of the ardent attachment of Upakosá to me, the result of sudden passion: then I with my pain doubled, said to her, "How can I obtain Upakosá, unless her natural protectors willingly bestow her upon me? For death is better than dishonour; so if by any means your friend's heart became known to her parents, perhaps the end might be prosperous.

"Therefore bring this about, my good woman, save the life of me and of thy friend." When she heard this, she went and told all to her friend's mother, she immediately told it to her husband Upavarsha, he to Varsha his brother, and Varsha approved of the match. Then, my marriage having been determined upon, Vyádi by the order of my tutor went and brought my mother from Kausámbí; so Upakosá was bestowed upon me by her father with all due ceremonies, and I lived happily in Pátaliputra with my mother and my wife.

Now in course of time Varsha got a great number of pupils, and among them there was one rather stupid pupil of the name of Pánini; he, being wearied out with service, was sent away by the preceptor's wife, and being disgusted at it and longing for learning, he went to the Himálaya to perform austerities: then he obtained from the god, who wears the moon as a crest, propitiated by his severe austerities, a new grammar, the source of all learning. Thereupon he came and challenged me to a disputation, and seven days passed away in the course of our disputation; on the eighth day he had been fairly conquered by me, but immediately afterwards a terrible menacing sound was uttered by Siva in the firmament; owing to that our Aindra grammar was exploded in the world, [52] and all of us, being conquered by Pánini, became accounted fools. Accordingly full of despondency I deposited in the hand of the merchant Hiranyadatta my wealth for the maintenance of my house, and after informing Upakosá of it, I went fasting to mount Himálaya to propitiate Siva with austerities.

Story of Upakosá and her four lovers.

Upakosá on her part anxious for my success, remained in her own house, bathing every day in the Ganges, strictly observing her vow. One day, when spring had come, she being still beautiful, though thin and slightly pale, and charming to the eyes of men, like the streak of the new moon, was seen by the king's domestic chaplain while going to bathe in the Ganges, and also by the head magistrate, and by the prince's minister; and immediately they all of them became a target for the arrows of love. It happened too somehow or other that she took a long time bathing that day, and as she was returning in the evening, the prince's minister laid violent hands on her, but she with great presence of mind said to him, "Dear Sir, I desire this as much as you, but I am of respectable family, and my husband is away from home. How can I act thus? Some one might perhaps see us, and then misfortune would befall you as well as me. Therefore you must come without fail to my house in the first watch of the night of the spring-festival when the citizens are all excited." [53] When she had said this, and pledged herself, he let her go, but, as chance would have it, she had not gone many steps further, before she was stopped by the king's domestic chaplain. She made a similar assignation with him also for the second watch of the same night; and so he too was, though with difficulty, induced to let her go; but, after she had gone a little further, up comes a third person, the head magistrate, and detains the trembling lady. Then she made a similar assignation with him too for the third watch of the same night, and having by great good fortune got him to release her, she went home all trembling, and of her own accord told her handmaids the arrangements she had made, reflecting, "Death is better for a woman of good family when her husband is away, than to meet the eyes of people who lust after beauty." Full of these thoughts and regretting me, the virtuous lady spent that night in fasting, lamenting her own beauty. Early the next morning she sent a maid-servant to the merchant Hiranyagupta to ask for some money in order that she might honour the Bráhmans: then that merchant also came and said to her in private, "Shew me love, and then I will give you what your husband deposited." When she heard that, she reflected that she had no witness to prove the deposit of her husband's wealth, and perceived that the merchant was a villain, and so tortured with sorrow and grief, she made a fourth and last assignation with him for the last watch of the same night; so he went away. In the meanwhile she had prepared by her handmaids in a large vat lamp-black mixed with oil and scented with musk and other perfumes, and she made ready four pieces of rag anointed with it, and she caused to be made a large trunk with a fastening outside. So on that day of the spring-festival the prince's minister came in the first watch of the night in gorgeous array. When he had entered without being observed Upakosá said to him, "I will not receive you until you have bathed, so go in and bathe." The simpleton agreed to that, and was taken by the handmaids into a secret dark inner apartment. There they took off his under-garments and his jewels, and gave him by way of an under-garment a single piece of rag, and they smeared the rascal from head to foot with a thick coating of that lamp-black and oil, pretending it was an unguent, without his detecting it. While they continued rubbing it into every limb, the second watch of the night came and the chaplain arrived, the handmaids thereupon said to the minister,--"here is the king's chaplain come, a great friend of Vararuchi's, so creep into this box"--and they bundled him into the trunk, just as he was, all naked, with the utmost precipitation: and then they fastened it outside with a bolt. The priest too was brought inside into the dark room on the pretence of a bath, and was in the same way stripped of his garments and ornaments, and made a fool of by the handmaids by being rubbed with lamp-black and oil, with nothing but the piece of rag on him, until in the third watch the chief magistrate arrived. The handmaids immediately terrified the priest with the news of his arrival, and pushed him into the trunk like his predecessor. After they had bolted him in, they brought in the magistrate on the pretext of giving him a bath, and so he, like his fellows, with the piece of rag for his only garment, was bamboozled by being continually anointed with lamp-black, until in the last watch of the night the merchant arrived. The handmaids made use of his arrival to alarm the magistrate and bundled him also into the trunk, and fastened it on the outside. So those three being shut up inside the box, as if they were bent on accustoming themselves to live in the hell of blind darkness, did not dare to speak on account of fear, though they touched one another. Then Upakosá brought a lamp into the room, and making the merchant enter it, said to him, "give me that money which my husband deposited with you." When he heard that, the rascal said, observing that the room was empty, "I told you that I would give you the money your husband deposited with me." Upakosá calling the attention of the people in the trunk, said--"Hear, O ye gods this speech of Hiranyagupta." When she had said this, she blew out the light, and the merchant, like the others, on the pretext of a bath was anointed by the handmaids for a long time with lamp-black. Then they told him to go, for the darkness was over, and at the close of the night they took him by the neck and pushed him out of the door sorely against his will. Then he made the best of his way home, with only the piece of rag to cover his nakedness, and smeared with the black dye, with the dogs biting him at every step, thoroughly ashamed of himself, and at last reached his own house; and when he got there he did not dare to look his slaves in the face while they were washing off that black dye. The path of vice is indeed a painful one. In the early morning Upakosá accompanied by her handmaids went, without informing her parents, to the palace of king Nanda, and there she herself stated to the king that the merchant Hiranyagupta was endeavouring to deprive her of money deposited with him by her husband. The king in order to enquire into the matter immediately had the merchant summoned, who said--"I have nothing in my keeping belonging to this lady." Upakosá then said, "I have witnesses, my lord; before he went, my husband put the household gods into a box, and this merchant with his own lips admitted the deposit in their presence. Let the box be brought here and ask the gods yourself." Having heard this the king in astonishment ordered the box to be brought.

Thereupon in a moment that trunk was carried in by many men. Then Upakosá said--"Relate truly, O gods, what that merchant said and then go to your own houses; if you do not, I will burn you or open the box in court." Hearing that, the men in the box, beside themselves with fear, said--"It is true, the merchant admitted the deposit in our presence." Then the merchant being utterly confounded confessed all his guilt; but the king, being unable to restrain his curiosity, after asking permission of Upakosá, opened the chest there in court by breaking the fastening, and those three men were dragged out, looking like three lumps of solid darkness, and were with difficulty recognised by the king and his ministers. The whole assembly then burst out laughing, and the king in his curiosity asked Upakosá, what was the meaning of all this; so the virtuous lady told the whole story. All present in court expressed their approbation of Upakosá's conduct, observing: "The virtuous behaviour of women of good family who are protected by their own excellent disposition [54] only, is incredible."

Then all those coveters of their neighbour's wife were deprived of all their living, and banished from the country. Who prospers by immorality? Upakosá was dismissed by the king, who shewed his great regard for her by a present of much wealth, and said to her: "Henceforth thou art my sister,"--and so she returned home. Varsha and Upavarsha when they heard it, congratulated that chaste lady, and there was a smile of admiration on the face of every single person in that city. [55]

In the meanwhile, by performing a very severe penance on the snowy mountain, I propitiated the god, the husband of Párvatí, the great giver of all good things; he revealed to me that same treatise of Pánini; and in accordance with his wish I completed it: then I returned home without feeling the fatigue of the journey, full of the nectar of the favour of that god who wears on his crest a digit of the moon; then I worshipped the feet of my mother and of my spiritual teachers, and heard from them the wonderful achievement of Upakosá, thereupon joy and astonishment swelled to the upmost height in my breast, together with natural affection and great respect for my wife.

Now Varsha expressed a desire to hear from my lips the new grammar, and thereupon the god Kártikeya himself revealed it to him. And it came to pass that Vyádi and Indradatta asked their preceptor Varsha what fee they should give him? He replied, "Give me ten millions of gold pieces." So they, consenting to the preceptor's demand, said to me; "Come with us, friend, to ask the king Nanda to give us the sum required for our teacher's fee; we cannot obtain so much gold from any other quarter: for he possesses nine hundred and ninety millions, and long ago he declared your wife Upakosá, his sister in the faith, therefore you are his brother-in-law; we shall obtain something for the sake of your virtues." Having formed this resolution, we three fellow-students [56] went to the camp of king Nanda in Ayodhyá, and the very moment we arrived, the king died; accordingly an outburst of lamentation arose in the kingdom, and we were reduced to despair. Immediately Indradatta, who was an adept in magic, said, "I will enter the body of this dead king [57]; let Vararuchi prefer the petition to me, and I will give him the gold, and let Vyádi guard my body until I return." Saying this, Indradatta entered into the body of king Nanda, and when the king came to life again, there was great rejoicing in the kingdom. While Vyádi remained in an empty temple to guard the body of Indradatta, I went to the king's palace. I entered, and after making the usual salutation, I asked the supposed Nanda for ten million gold pieces as my instructor's fee. Then he ordered a man named Sakatála, the minister of the real Nanda, to give me ten million of gold pieces. That minister, when he saw that the dead king had come to life, and that the petitioner immediately got what he asked, guessed the real state of the case. What is there that the wise cannot understand? That minister said--"It shall be given, your Highness," and reflected with himself; "Nanda's son is but a child, and our realm is menaced by many enemies, so I will do my best for the present to keep his body on the throne even in its present state." Having resolved on this, he immediately took steps to have all dead bodies burnt, employing spies to discover them, and among them was found the body of Indradatta, which was burned after Vyádi had been hustled out of the temple. In the meanwhile the king was pressing for the payment of the money, but Sakatála, who was still in doubt, said to him, "All the servants have got their heads turned by the public rejoicing, let the Bráhman wait a moment until I can give it." Then Vyádi came and complained aloud in the presence of the supposed Nanda, "Help, help, a Bráhman engaged in magic, whose life had not yet come to an end in a natural way, has been burnt by force on the pretext that his body was untenanted, and this in the very moment of your good fortune." [58] On hearing this the supposed Nanda was in an indescribable state of distraction from grief: but as soon as Indradatta was imprisoned in the body of Nanda, beyond the possibility of escape, by the burning of his body, the discreet Sakatála went out and gave me that ten millions.

Then the supposed Nanda, [59] full of grief, said in secret to Vyádi,--"Though a Bráhman by birth I have become a Súdra, what is the use of my royal fortune to me though it be firmly established?" When he heard that, Vyádi comforted him, [60] and gave him seasonable advice, "You have been discovered by Sakatála, so you must henceforth be on your guard against him, for he is a great minister, and in a short time he will, when it suits his purpose, destroy you, and will make Chandragupta, the son of the previous Nanda, king. Therefore immediately appoint Vararuchi your minister, in order that your rule may be firmly established by the help of his intellect, which is of god-like acuteness." When he had said this, Vyádi departed to give that fee to his preceptor, and immediately Yogananda sent for me and made me his minister. Then I said to the king, "Though your caste as a Bráhman has been taken from you, I do not consider your throne secure as long as Sakatála remains in office, therefore destroy him by some stratagem." When I had given him this advice, Yogananda threw Sakatála into a dark dungeon, and his hundred sons with him, [61] proclaiming as his crime that he had burnt a Bráhman alive. One porringer of barley-meal and one of water was placed inside the dungeon every day for Sakatála and his sons, and thereupon he said to them;--"My sons, even one man alone would with difficulty subsist on this barley-meal, much less can a number of people do so. Therefore let that one of us, who is able to take vengeance on Yogananda, consume every day the barley-meal and the water." His sons answered him, "You alone are able to punish him, therefore do you consume them." For vengeance is dearer to the resolute than life itself. So Sakatála alone subsisted on that meal and water every day. Alas! those whose souls are set on victory are cruel. Sakatála in the dark dungeon, beholding the death agonies of his starving sons, thought to himself, "A man who desires his own welfare should not act in an arbitrary manner towards the powerful, without fathoming their character and acquiring their confidence." Accordingly his hundred sons perished before his eyes, and he alone remained alive surrounded by their skeletons. Then Yogananda took firm root in his kingdom. And Vyádi approached him after giving the present to his teacher, and after coming near to him said, "May thy rule, my friend, last long! I take my leave of thee, I go to perform austerities somewhere." Hearing that, Yogananda, with his voice choked with tears, said to him, "Stop thou, and enjoy pleasures in my kingdom, do not go and desert me." Vyádi answered--"King! Life comes to an end in a moment. What wise man, I pray you, drowns himself in these hollow and fleeting enjoyments? Prosperity, a desert mirage, does not turn the head of the wise man." Saying this he went away that moment resolved to mortify his flesh with austerities. Then that Yogananda went to his metropolis Pátaliputra, for the purpose of enjoyment, accompanied by me, and surrounded with his whole army. So I, having attained prosperity, lived for a long time in that state, waited upon by Upakosá, and bearing the burden of the office of prime-minister to that king, accompanied by my mother and my preceptors. There the Ganges, propitiated by my austerities, gave me every day much wealth, and Sarasvatí present in bodily form told me continually what measures to adopt.

Chapter V

Having said this, Vararuchi continued his tale as follows:--

In course of time Yogananda became enslaved by his passions, and like a mad elephant he disregarded every restraint. Whom will not a sudden access of prosperity intoxicate? Then I reflected with myself, "The king has burst all bonds, and my own religious duties are neglected being interfered with by my care for his affairs, therefore it is better for me to draw out that Sakatála from his dungeon and make him my colleague in the ministry; even if he tries to oppose me, what harm can he do as long as I am in office?" Having resolved on this I asked permission of the king, and drew Sakatála out of the deep dungeon. Bráhmans are always soft-hearted. Now the discreet Sakatála made up his mind, that it would be difficult to overthrow Yogananda as long as I was in office, and that he had accordingly better imitate the cane which bends with the current, and watch a favourable moment for vengeance, so at my request he resumed the office of minister and managed the king's affairs.

Once on a time Yogananda went outside the city, and beheld in the middle of the Ganges a hand, the five fingers of which were closely pressed together. That moment he summoned me and said, "What does this mean?" But I displayed two of my fingers in the direction of the hand. Thereupon that hand disappeared, and the king, exceedingly astonished, again asked me what this meant, and I answered him, "That hand meant to say, by shewing its five fingers, 'What cannot five men united effect in this world?' Then I, king, shewed it these two fingers, wishing to indicate that nothing is impossible when even two men are of one mind." When I uttered this solution of the riddle the king was delighted, and Sakatála was despondent seeing that my intellect would be difficult to circumvent.

One day Yogananda saw his queen leaning out of the window and asking questions of a Bráhman guest that was looking up. That trivial circumstance threw the king into a passion, and he gave orders that the Bráhman should be put to death; for jealousy interferes with discernment. Then as that Bráhman was being led off to the place of execution in order that he might be put to death, a fish in the market laughed aloud, though it was dead. [62] The king hearing it immediately prohibited for the present the execution of that Bráhman, and asked me the reason why the fish laughed. I replied that I would tell him after I had thought over the matter; and after I had gone out Sarasvatí came to me secretly on my thinking of her and gave me this advice; "Take up a position on the top of this palm tree at night so as not to be observed, and thou shalt without doubt hear the reason why the fish laughed." Hearing this I went at night to that very place, and ensconced myself on the top of the palm tree, and saw a terrible female Rákshasa coming past with her children; when they asked her for food, she said, "Wait, and I will give you to-morrow morning the flesh of a Bráhman, he was not killed to-day." [63] They said to their mother, "Why was he not killed to-day?" Then she replied, "He was not executed because a fish in the town, though dead, laughed when it saw him." The sons said, "Why did the fish laugh?" She continued, "The fish of course said to himself--all the king's wives are dissolute, for in every part of this harem there are men dressed up as women, and nevertheless while these escape, an innocent Bráhman is to be put to death--and this tickled the fish so that he laughed. For demons assume these disguises, insinuating themselves into everything, and laughing at the exceeding want of discernment of kings." After I had heard that speech of the female Rákshasa I went away from thence, and in the morning I informed the king why the fish laughed. The king after detecting in the harem those men clothed as women, looked upon me with great respect, and released that Bráhman from the sentence of death.

I was disgusted by seeing this and other lawless proceedings on the part of the king, and, while I was in this frame of mind, there came to court a new painter. He painted on a sheet of canvas the principal queen and Yogananda, and that picture of his looked as if it were alive, it only lacked speech and motion. And the king being delighted loaded that painter with wealth, and had the painting set up on a wall in his private apartments. Now one day when I entered into the king's private apartments, it occurred to me that the painting of the queen did not represent all her auspicious marks; from the arrangement of the other marks I conjectured by means of my acuteness that there ought to be a spot where the girdle comes, and I painted one there. Then I departed after thus giving the queen all her lucky marks. Then Yogananda entered and saw that spot, and asked his chamberlains who had painted it. And they indicated me to him as the person who had painted it. Yogananda thus reflected while burning with anger; "No one except myself knows of that spot, which is in a part of the queen's body usually concealed, then how can this Vararuchi have come thus to know it? [64] No doubt he has secretly corrupted my harem, and this is how he came to see there those men disguised as women." Foolish men often find such coincidences. Then of his own motion he summoned Sakatála, and gave him the following order: "You must put Vararuchi to death for seducing the queen." Sakatála said, "Your Majesty's orders shall be executed," and went out of the palace, reflecting, "I should not have power to put Vararuchi to death, for he possesses godlike force of intellect; and he delivered me from calamity; moreover he is a Bráhman, therefore I had better hide him and win him over to my side." Having formed this resolution, he came and told me of the king's causeless wrath which had ended in his ordering my execution, and thus concluded, "I will have some one else put to death in order that the news may get abroad, and do you remain hidden in my house to protect me from this passionate king." In accordance with this proposal of his, I remained concealed in his house, and he had some one else put to death at night in order that the report of my death might be spread. [65] When he had in this way displayed his statecraft, I said to him out of affection, "You have shewn yourself an unrivalled minister in that you did not attempt to put me to death; for I cannot be slain, since I have a Rákshasa to friend, and he will come, on being only thought of, and at my request will devour the whole world. As for this king he is a friend of mine, being a Bráhman named Indradatta, and he ought not to be slain." Hearing this, that minister said--"Shew me the Rákshasa." Then I shewed him that Rákshasa who came with a thought; and on beholding him, Sakatála was astonished and terrified. And when the Rákshasa had disappeared, Sakatála again asked me--"How did the Rákshasa become your friend?" Then I said--"Long ago the heads of the police as they went through the city night after night on inspecting duty, perished one by one. On hearing that, Yogananda made me head of the police, and as I was on my rounds at night, I saw a Rákshasa roaming about, and he said to me, "Tell me, who is considered the best-looking woman in this city?" When I heard that, I burst out laughing and said--"You fool, any woman is good-looking to the man who admires her." Hearing my answer, he said--"You are the only man that has beaten me." And now that I had escaped death by solving his riddle, [66] he again said to me, "I am pleased with you, henceforth you are my friend, and I will appear to you when you call me to mind." Thus he spoke and disappeared, and I returned by the way that I came. Thus the Rákshasa has become my friend, and my ally in trouble. When I had said this, Sakatála made a second request to me, and I shewed him the goddess of the Ganges in human form who came when I thought of her. And that goddess disappeared when she had been gratified by me with hymns of praise. But Sakatála became from thenceforth my obedient ally.

Now once on a time that minister said to me when my state of concealment weighed upon my spirits; "why do you, although you know all things, abandon yourself to despondency? Do you not know that the minds of kings are most undiscerning, and in a short time you will be cleared from all imputations; [67] in proof of which listen to the following tale:--

The story of Sivavarman.

There reigned here long ago a king named Ádityavarman, and he had a very wise minister, named Sivavarman. Now it came to pass that one of that king's queens became pregnant, and when he found it out, the king said to the guards of the harem, "It is now two years since I entered this place, then how has this queen become pregnant? Tell me." Then they said, "No man except your minister Sivavarman is allowed to enter here, but he enters without any restriction." When he heard that, the king thought,--"Surely he is guilty of treason against me, and yet if I put him to death publicly, I shall incur reproach,"--thus reflecting, that king sent that Sivavarman on some pretext to Bhogavarman a neighbouring chief, [68] who was an ally of his, and immediately afterwards the king secretly sent off a messenger to the same chief, bearing a letter by which he was ordered to put the minister to death. When a week had elapsed after the minister's departure, that queen tried to escape out of fear, and was taken by the guards with a man in woman's attire, then Ádityavarman when he heard of it was filled with remorse, and asked himself why he had causelessly brought about the death of so excellent a minister. In the meanwhile Sivavarman reached the Court of Bhogavarman, and that messenger came bringing the letter; and fate would have it so that after Bhogavarman had read the letter he told to Sivavarman in secret the order he had received to put him to death.

The excellent minister Sivavarman in his turn said to that chief,--"put me to death; if you do not, I will slay myself with my own hand." When he heard that, Bhogavarman was filled with wonder, and said to him, "What does all this mean? Tell me Bráhman, if you do not, you will lie under my curse." Then the minister said to him, "King, in whatever land I am slain, on that land God will not send rain for twelve years." When he heard that, Bhogavarman debated with his minister,--"that wicked king desires the destruction of our land, for could he not have employed secret assassins to kill his minister? So we must not put this minister to death, moreover we must prevent him from laying violent hands on himself." Having thus deliberated and appointed him guards, Bhogavarman sent Sivavarman out of his country that moment; so that minister by means of his wisdom returned alive, and his innocence was established from another quarter, for righteousness cannot be undone.

In the same way your innocence will be made clear, Kátyáyana; remain for a while in my house; this king too will repent of what he has done. When Sakatála said this to me, I spent those days concealed in his house, waiting my opportunity.

Then it came to pass that one day, O Kánabhúti, a son of that Yogananda named Hiranyagupta went out hunting, and when he had somehow or other been carried to a great distance by the speed of his horse, while he was alone in the wood the day came to an end; and then he ascended a tree to pass the night. Immediately afterwards a bear, which had been terrified by a lion, ascended the same tree; he seeing the prince frightened, said to him with a human voice, "Fear not, thou art my friend," and thus promised him immunity from harm. Then the prince confiding in the bear's promise went to sleep, while the bear remained awake. Then the lion below said to the bear, "Bear, throw me down this man, and I will go away." Then the bear said, "Villain, I will not cause the death of a friend." When in course of time the bear went to sleep while the prince was awake, the lion said again, "Man, throw me down the bear." When he heard that, the prince, who through fear for his own safety wished to propitiate the lion, tried to throw down the bear, but wonderful to say, it did not fall, since Fate caused it to awake. And then that bear said to the prince, "become insane, thou betrayer of thy friend," [69] laying upon him a curse destined not to end until a third person guessed the whole transaction. Accordingly the prince, when he reached his palace in the morning went out of his mind, and Yogananda seeing it, was immediately plunged in despondency; and said, "If Vararuchi were alive at this moment, all this matter would be known; curse on my readiness to have him put to death!" Sakatála, when he heard this exclamation of the king's, thought to himself, "Ha! here is an opportunity obtained for bringing Kátyáyana out of concealment, and he being a proud man will not remain here, and the king will repose confidence in me." After reflecting thus, he implored pardon, and said to the king, "O King, cease from despondency, Vararuchi remains alive." Then Yogananda said, "Let him be brought quickly." Then I was suddenly brought by Sakatála into the presence of Yogananda and beheld the prince in that state; and by the favour of Sarasvatí I was enabled to reveal the whole occurrence; and I said, "King, he has proved a traitor to his friend"; then I was praised by that prince who was delivered from his curse; and the king asked me how I had managed to find out what had taken place. Then I said, "King, the minds of the wise see everything by inference from signs, and by acuteness of intellect. So I found out all this in the same way as I found out that mole." When I had said this, that king was afflicted with shame. Then without accepting his munificence, considering myself to have gained all I desired by the clearing of my reputation, I went home: for to the wise character is wealth. And the moment I arrived, the servants of my house wept before me, and when I was distressed at it Upavarsha came to me and said, "Upakosá, when she heard that the king had put you to death, committed her body to the flames, and then your mother's heart broke with grief." Hearing that, senseless with the distraction produced by recently aroused grief, I suddenly fell on the ground like a tree broken by the wind: and in a moment I tasted the relief of loud lamentations; whom will not the fire of grief, produced by the loss of dear relations, scorch? Varsha came and gave me sound advice in such words as these, "The only thing that is stable in this ever-changeful world is instability, then why are you distracted though you know this delusion of the Creator"? By the help of these and similar exhortations I at length, though with difficulty, regained my equanimity; then with heart disgusted with the world, I flung aside all earthly lords, and choosing self-restraint for my only companion, I went to a grove where asceticism was practised.

Then, as days went by, once on a time a Bráhman from Ayodhyá came to that ascetic-grove while I was there: I asked him for tidings about Yogananda's government, and he recognizing me told me in sorrowful accents the following story:

"Hear what happened to Nanda after you had left him. Sakatála after waiting for it a long time, found that he had now obtained an opportunity of injuring him. While thinking how he might by some device get Yogananda killed, he happened to see a Bráhman named Chánakya digging up the earth in his path; he said to him, "Why are you digging up the earth?" The Bráhman, whom he had asked, said, I am rooting up a plant of darbha grass here, because it has pricked my foot. [70] When he heard that, the minister thought that Bráhman who formed such stern resolves out of anger, would be the best instrument to destroy Nanda with. After asking his name he said to him, "Bráhman, I assign to you the duty of presiding at a sráddha on the thirteenth day of the lunar fortnight, in the house of king Nanda; you shall have one hundred thousand gold pieces by way of fee, and you shall sit at the board above all others; in the meanwhile come to my house." Saying this, Sakatála took that Bráhman to his house, and on the day of the sráddha he showed the Bráhman to the king, and he approved of him. Then Chánakya went and sat at the head of the table during the sráddha, but a Bráhman named Subandhu desired that post of honour for himself. Then Sakatála went and referred the matter to king Nanda, who answered, "Let Subandhu sit at the head of the table, no one else deserves the place." Then Sakatála went, and, humbly bowing through fear, communicated that order of the king's to Chánakya, adding, "it is not my fault." Then that Chánakya, being, as it were, inflamed all over with wrath, undoing the lock of hair on the crown of his head, made this solemn vow, "Surely this Nanda must be destroyed by me within seven days, and then my anger being appeased I will bind up my lock." When he had said this, Yogananda was enraged; so Chánakya escaped unobserved, and Sakatála gave him refuge in his house. Then being supplied by Sakatála with the necessary instruments, that Bráhman Chánakya went somewhere and performed a magic rite; in consequence of this rite Yogananda caught a burning fever, and died when the seventh day arrived; and Sakatála, having slain Nanda's son Hiranyagupta, bestowed the royal dignity upon Chandragupta a son of the previous Nanda. And after he had requested Chánakya, equal in ability to Brihaspati, [71] to be Chandragupta's prime-minister, and established him in the office, that minister, considering that all his objects had been accomplished, as he had wreaked his vengeance on Yogananda, despondent through sorrow for the death of his sons, retired to the forest." [72]

After I had heard this, O Kánabhúti, from the mouth of that Bráhman, I became exceedingly afflicted, seeing that all things are unstable; and on account of my affliction I came to visit this shrine of Durgá, and through her favour having beheld you, O my friend, I have remembered my former birth.

And having obtained divine discernment I have told you the great tale: now as my curse has spent its strength, I will strive to leave the body; and do you remain here for the present, until there comes to you a Bráhman named Gunádhya, who has forsaken the use of three languages, [73] surrounded with his pupils, for he like myself was cursed by the goddess in anger, being an excellent Gana Mályaván by name, who for taking my part has become a mortal. To him you must tell this tale originally told by Siva, then you shall be delivered from your curse, and so shall he.

Having said all this to Kánabhúti, that Vararuchi set forth for the holy hermitage of Badariká in order to put off his body. As he was going along he beheld on the banks of the Ganges a vegetable-eating [74] hermit, and while he was looking on, that hermit's hand was pricked with kusa grass. Then Vararuchi turned his blood, as it flowed out, into sap [75] through his magic power, out of curiosity, in order to test his egotism; on beholding that, the hermit exclaimed, "Ha! I have attained perfection;" and so he became puffed up with pride. Then Vararuchi laughed a little and said to him, "I turned your blood into sap in order to test you, because even now, O hermit, you have not abandoned egotism. Egotism is in truth an obstacle in the road to knowledge hard to overcome, and without knowledge liberation cannot be attained even by a hundred vows. But the perishable joys of Svarga cannot attract the hearts of those who long for liberation, therefore, O hermit, endeavour to acquire knowledge by forsaking egotism." Having thus read that hermit a lesson, and having been praised by him prostrate in adoration, Vararuchi went to the tranquil site of the hermitage of Badarí. [76] There he, desirous of putting off his mortal condition, resorted for protection with intense devotion to that goddess who only can protect, and she manifesting her real form to him told him the secret of that meditation which arises from fire, to help him to put off the body. Then Vararuchi having consumed his body by that form of meditation, reached his own heavenly home; and henceforth that Kánabhúti remained in the Vindhya forest eager for his desired meeting with Gunádhya.

Chapter VI

Then that Mályaván wandering about in the wood in human form, passing under the name of Gunádhya, having served the king Sátaváhana, and having, in accordance with a vow, abandoned in his presence the use of Sanskrit and two other languages, with sorrowful mind came to pay a visit to Durgá, the dweller in the Vindhya hills; and by her orders he went and beheld Kánabhúti. Then he remembered his origin and suddenly, as it were, awoke from sleep; and making use of the Paisácha language, which was different from the three languages he had sworn to forsake, he said to Kánabhúti, after telling him his own name; "Quickly tell me that tale which you heard from Pushpadanta, in order that you and I together, my friend, may escape from our curse." Hearing that, Kánabhúti bowed before him, and said to him in joyful mood, "I will tell you the story, but great curiosity possesses me, my lord, first tell me all your adventures from your birth, do me this favour." Thus being entreated by him, Gunádhya proceeded to relate as follows:

In Pratishthána [77] there is a city named Supratishthita; in it there dwelt once upon a time an excellent Bráhman named Somasarman, and he, my friend, had two sons Vatsa and Gulmaka, and he had also born to him a third child, a daughter named Srutárthá. Now in course of time, that Bráhman and his wife died, and those two sons of his remained taking care of their sister. And she suddenly became pregnant. Then Vatsa and Gulma began to suspect one another, because no other man came in their sister's way: thereupon Srutárthá, who saw what was in their minds, said to those brothers,--"Do not entertain evil suspicions, listen, I will tell you the truth; there is a prince of the name of Kírtisena, brother's son to Vásuki, the king of the Nágas; [78] he saw me when I was going to bathe, thereupon he was overcome with love, and after telling me his lineage and his name, made me his wife by the Gándharva marriage; he belongs to the Bráhman race, and it is by him that I am pregnant." When they heard this speech of their sister's, Vatsa and Gulma said, "What confidence can we repose in all this?" Then she silently called to mind that Nága prince, and immediately he was thought upon, he came and said to Vatsa and Gulma, "In truth I have made your sister my wife, she is a glorious heavenly nymph fallen down to earth in consequence of a curse, and you too have descended to earth for the same reason, but a son shall without fail be born to your sister here, and then you and she together shall be freed from your curse." Having said this he disappeared, and in a few days from that time, a son was born to Srutárthá; know me my friend as that son. [79] At that very time a divine voice was heard from heaven, "This child that is born is an incarnation of virtue, and he shall be called Gunádhya, [80] and is of the Bráhman caste." Thereupon my mother and uncles, as their curse had spent its force, died, and I for my part became inconsolable. Then I flung aside my grief, and though a child I went in the strength of my self-reliance to the Deccan to acquire knowledge. Then, having in course of time learned all sciences, and become famous, I returned to my native land to exhibit my accomplishments; and when I entered after a long absence into the city of Supratishthita, surrounded by my disciples, I saw a wonderfully splendid scene. In one place chanters were intoning according to prescribed custom the hymns of the Sáma Veda, in another place Bráhmans were disputing about the interpretation of the sacred books, in another place gamblers were praising gambling in these deceitful words, "Whoever knows the art of gambling, has a treasure in his grasp," and in another place, in the midst of a knot of merchants, who were talking to one another about their skill in the art of making money, a certain merchant spoke as follows:

Story of the Mouse-merchant.

It is not very wonderful that a thrifty man should acquire wealth by wealth; but I long ago achieved prosperity without any wealth to start with. My father died before I was born, and then my mother was deprived by wicked relations of all she possessed. Then she fled through fear of them, watching over the safety of her unborn child, and dwelt in the house of Kumáradatta a friend of my father's, and there the virtuous woman gave birth to me, who was destined to be the means of her future maintenance; and so she reared me up by performing menial drudgery. And as she was so poor, she persuaded a teacher by way of charity to give me some instruction in writing and ciphering. Then she said to me, "You are the son of a merchant, so you must now engage in trade, and there is a very rich merchant in this country called Visákhila; he is in the habit of lending capital to poor men of good family, go and entreat him to give you something to start with." Then I went to his house, and he at the very moment I entered, said in a rage to some merchant's son; "you see this dead mouse here upon the floor, even that is a commodity by which a capable man would acquire wealth, but I gave you, you good-for-nothing fellow, many dínárs, [81] and so far from increasing them, you have not even been able to preserve what you got." When I heard that, I suddenly said to that Visákhila, "I hereby take from you that mouse as capital advanced;" saying this I took the mouse up in my hand, and wrote him a receipt for it, which he put in his strong box, and off I went. The merchant for his part burst out laughing. Well, I sold that mouse to a certain merchant as cat's-meat for two handfuls of gram, then I ground up that gram, and taking a pitcher of water, I went and stood on the cross-road in a shady place, outside the city; there I offered with the utmost civility the water and gram to a band of wood-cutters; [82] every wood-cutter gave me as a token of gratitude two pieces of wood; and I took those pieces of wood and sold them in the market; then for a small part of the price which I got for them, I bought a second supply of gram, and in the same way on a second day I obtained wood from the wood-cutters. Doing this every day I gradually acquired capital, and I bought from those wood-cutters all their wood for three days. Then suddenly there befell a dearth of wood on account of heavy rains, and I sold that wood for many hundred panas, with that wealth I set up a shop, and engaging in traffic, I have become a very wealthy man by my own ability. Then I made a mouse of gold, and gave it to that Visákhila, then he gave me his daughter; and in consequence of my history I am known in the world by the name of Mouse. So without a coin in the world I acquired this prosperity. All the other merchants then, when they heard this story, were astonished. How can the mind help being amazed at pictures without walls? [83]

Story of the chanter of the Sáma Veda.

In another place a Bráhman who had got eight gold máshas as a present, a chanter of the Sáma Veda, received the following piece of advice from a man who was a bit of a roué, "You get enough to live upon by your position as a Bráhman, so you ought now to employ this gold for the purpose of learning the way of the world in order that you may become a knowing fellow." The fool said "Who will teach me?" Thereupon the roué said to him, "This lady [84] named Chaturiká, go to her house." The Bráhman said, "What am I to do there"? The roué replied--"Give her gold, and in order to please her make use of some sáma." [85] When he heard this, the chanter went quickly to the house of Chaturiká; when he entered, the lady advanced to meet him and he took a seat. Then that Bráhman gave her the gold and faltered out the request, "Teach me now for this fee the way of the world." Thereupon the people who were there began to titter, and he, after reflecting a little, putting his hands together in the shape of a cow's ear, so that they formed a kind of pipe, began, like a stupid idiot, to chant with a shrill sound the Sáma Veda, so that all the roués in the house came together to see the fun; and they said "Whence has this jackal blundered in here? Come, let us quickly give him the half-moon [86] on his throat." Thereupon the Bráhman supposing that the half-moon meant an arrow with a head of that shape, and afraid of having his head cut off, rushed out of the house, bellowing out, "I have learnt the way of the world;" then he went to the man who had sent him, and told him the whole story. He replied "when I told you to use sáma, I meant coaxing and wheedling; what is the propriety of introducing the Veda in a matter of this kind? The fact is, I suppose, that stupidity is engrained in a man who muddles his head with the Vedas?" So he spoke, bursting with laughter all the while, and went off to the lady's house, and said to her, "Give back to that two-legged cow his gold-fodder." So she laughing gave back the money, and when the Bráhman got it, he went back to his house as happy as if he had been born again.

Witnessing strange scenes of this kind at every step, I reached the palace of the king which was like the court of Indra. And then I entered it, with my pupils going before to herald my arrival, and saw the king Sátaváhana sitting in his hall of audience upon a jewelled throne, surrounded by his ministers, Sarvavarman and his colleagues, as Indra is by the gods. After I had blessed him and had taken a seat, and had been honoured by the king, Sarvavarman and the other ministers praised me in the following words, "This man, O king, is famous upon the earth as skilled in all lore, and therefore his name Gunádhya [87] is a true index of his nature." Sátaváhana hearing me praised in this style by his ministers, was pleased with me and immediately entertained me honourably, and appointed me to the office of Minister. Then I married a wife, and lived there comfortably, looking after the king's affairs and instructing my pupils.

Once, as I was roaming about at leisure on the banks of the Godávarí out of curiosity, I beheld a garden called Devíkriti, and seeing that it was an exceedingly pleasant garden, like an earthly Nandana, [88] I asked the gardener how it came there, and he said to me, "My lord, according to the story which we hear from old people, long ago there came here a certain Bráhman who observed a vow of silence and abstained from food, he made this heavenly garden with a temple; then all the Bráhmans assembled here out of curiosity, and that Bráhman being persistently asked by them told his history. There is in this land a province called Vakakachchha on the banks of the Narmadá, in that district I was born as a Bráhman, and in former times no one gave me alms, as I was lazy as well as poor; then in a fit of annoyance I quitted my house being disgusted with life, and wandering round the holy places, I came to visit the shrine of Durgá the dweller in the Vindhya hills, and having beheld that goddess, I reflected, 'People propitiate with animal offerings this giver of boons, but I will slay myself here, stupid beast that I am.' Having formed this resolve, I took in hand a sword to cut off my head. Immediately that goddess being propitious, herself said to me, 'Son, thou art perfected, do not slay thyself, remain near me;' thus I obtained a boon from the goddess and attained divine nature; from that day forth my hunger and thirst disappeared; then once on a time, as I was remaining there, that goddess herself said to me, 'Go, my son, and plant in Pratishthána a glorious garden;' thus speaking, she gave me, with her own hands, heavenly seed; thereupon I came here and made this beautiful garden by means of her power; and this garden you must keep in good order. Having said this, he disappeared. In this way this garden was made by the goddess long ago, my lord." When I had heard from the gardener this signal manifestation of the favour of the goddess, I went home penetrated with wonder.

The story of Sátaváhana.

When Gunádhya had said this, Kánabhúti asked, "Why, my lord, was the king called Sátaváhana?" Then Gunádhya said, Listen, I will tell you the reason. There was a king of great power named Dvípikarni. He had a wife named Saktimatí, whom he valued more than life, and once upon a time a snake bit her as she was sleeping in the garden. Thereupon she died, and that king thinking only of her, though he had no son, took a vow of perpetual chastity. Then once upon a time the god of the moony crest said to him in a dream--"While wandering in the forest thou shalt behold a boy mounted on a lion, take him and go home, he shall be thy son." Then the king woke up, and rejoiced remembering that dream, and one day in his passion for the chase he went to a distant wood; there in the middle of the day that king beheld on the bank of a lotus-lake a boy splendid as the sun, riding on a lion; the lion desiring to drink water set down the boy, and then the king remembering his dream slew it with one arrow. The creature thereupon abandoned the form of a lion, and suddenly assumed the shape of a man; the king exclaimed, "Alas! what means this? tell me!" and then the man answered him--"O king, I am a Yaksha of the name of Sáta, an attendant upon the god of wealth; long ago I beheld the daughter of a Rishi bathing in the Ganges; she too, when she beheld me, felt love arise in her breast, like myself: then I made her my wife by the Gándharva form of marriage; and her relatives, finding it out, in their anger cursed me and her, saying, "You two wicked ones, doing what is right in your own eyes, shall become lions." The hermit-folk appointed that her curse should end when she gave birth to offspring, and that mine should continue longer, until I was slain by thee with an arrow. So we became a pair of lions; she in course of time became pregnant, and then died after this boy was born, but I brought him up on the milk of other lionesses, and lo! to-day I am released from my curse having been smitten by thee with an arrow. Therefore receive this noble son which I give thee, for this thing was foretold long ago by those hermit-folk." Having said this that Guhyaka named Sáta disappeared, [89] and the king taking the boy went home; and because he had ridden upon Sáta he gave the boy the name of Sátaváhana, and in course of time he established him in his kingdom. Then, when that king Dvípikarni went to the forest, this Sátaváhana became sovereign of the whole earth.

Having said this in the middle of his tale in answer to Kánabhúti's question, the wise Gunádhya again called to mind and went on with the main thread of his narrative. Then once upon a time, in the spring festival that king Sátaváhana went to visit the garden made by the goddess, of which I spake before. He roamed there for a long time like Indra in the garden of Nandana, and descended into the water of the lake to amuse himself in company with his wives. There he sprinkled his beloved ones sportively with water flung by his hands, and was sprinkled by them in return like an elephant by its females. His wives with faces, the eyes of which were slightly reddened by the collyrium washed into them, and which were streaming with water, and with bodies the proportions of which were revealed by their clinging garments, pelted him vigorously; and as the wind strips the creepers in the forest of leaves and flowers, so he made his fair ones who fled into the adjoining shrubbery lose the marks on their foreheads [90] and their ornaments. Then one of his queens tardy with the weight of her breasts, with body tender as a sirísha flower, became exhausted with the amusement; she not being able to endure more, said to the king who was sprinkling her with water,--"do not pelt me with water-drops;" on hearing that, the king quickly had some sweetmeats [91] brought; then the queen burst out laughing and said again--"king, what do we want with sweetmeats in the water? For I said to you, do not sprinkle me with water-drops. Do you not even understand the coalescence of the words má and udaka, and do you not know that chapter of the grammar,--how can you be such a blockhead?" When the queen, who knew grammatical treatises, said this to him, and the attendants laughed, the king was at once overpowered with secret shame; he left off romping in the water and immediately entered his own palace unperceived, crest-fallen, and full of self-contempt. Then he remained lost in thought, bewildered, averse to food and other enjoyments, and, like a picture, even when asked a question, he answered nothing. Thinking that his only resource was to acquire learning or die, he flung himself down on a couch, and remained in an agony of grief. Then all the king's attendants, seeing that he had suddenly fallen into such a state, were utterly beside themselves to think what it could mean. Then I and Sarvavarman came at last to hear of the king's condition, and by that time the day was almost at an end. So perceiving that the king was still in an unsatisfactory condition, we immediately summoned a servant of the king named Rájahansa. And he, when asked by us about the state of the king's health, said this--"I never before in my life saw the king in such a state of depression: and the other queens told me with much indignation that he had been humiliated to-day by that superficial blue-stocking, the daughter of Vishnusakti." When Sarvavarman and I had heard this from the mouth of the king's servant, we fell into a state of despondency, and thus reflected in our dilemma; "If the king were afflicted with bodily disease, we might introduce the physicians, but if his disease is mental it is impossible to find the cause of it. For there is no enemy in his country the thorns of which are destroyed, and these subjects are attached to him; no dearth of any kind is to be seen; so how can this sudden melancholy of the king's have arisen?" After we had debated to this effect, the wise Sarvavarman said as follows--"I know the cause, this king is distressed by sorrow for his own ignorance, for he is always expressing a desire for culture, saying 'I am a blockhead;' I long ago detected this desire of his, and we have heard that the occasion of the present fit is his having been humiliated by the queen." Thus we debated with one another and after we had passed that night, in the morning we went to the private apartments of the sovereign. There, though strict orders had been given that no one was to enter, I managed to get in with difficulty, and after me Sarvavarman slipped in quickly. I then sat down near the king and asked him this question--"Why, O king, art thou without cause thus despondent?" Though he heard this, Sátaváhana nevertheless remained silent, and then Sarvavarman uttered this extraordinary speech, "King, thou didst long ago say to me, 'Make me a learned man.' Thinking upon that I employed last night a charm to produce a dream. [92] Then I saw in my dream a lotus fallen from heaven, and it was opened by some heavenly youth, and out of it came a divine woman in white garments, and immediately, O king, she entered thy mouth. When I had seen so much I woke up, and I think without doubt that the woman who visibly entered thy mouth was Sarasvatí." As soon as Sarvavarman had in these terms described his dream, the king broke his silence and said to me with the utmost earnestness,--"In how short a time can a man, who is diligently taught, acquire learning? Tell me this. For without learning all this regal splendour has no charms for me. What is the use of rank and power to a blockhead? They are like ornaments on a log of wood." Then I said, "King, it is invariably the case that it takes men twelve years to learn grammar, the gate to all knowledge. But I, my sovereign, will teach it you in six years." When he heard that, Sarvavarman suddenly exclaimed in a fit of jealousy--"How can a man accustomed to enjoyment endure hardship for so long? So I will teach you grammar, my prince, in six months." When I heard this promise which it seemed impossible to make good, I said to him in a rage, "If you teach the king in six months, I renounce at once and for ever Sanskrit, Prakrit, and the vernacular dialect, these three languages which pass current among men;" [93] then Sarvavarman said--"And if I do not do this, I Sarvavarman, will carry your shoes on my head for twelve years." Having said this he went out; I too went home; and the king for his part was comforted, expecting that he would attain his object by means of one of us two. Now Sarvavarman being in a dilemma, seeing that his promise was one very difficult to perform, and regretting what he had done, told the whole story to his wife, and she grieved to hear it said to him, "My lord, in this difficulty there is no way of escape for you except the favour of the Lord Kártikeya." [94] "It is so," said Sarvavarman and determined to implore it. Accordingly in the last watch of the night, Sarvavarman set out fasting for the shrine of the god. Now I came to hear of it by means of my secret emissaries, and in the morning I told the king of it; and he, when he heard it, wondered what would happen. Then a trusty Rájpút called Sinhagupta said to him, "When I heard, O king, that thou wast afflicted I was seized with great despondency. Then I went out of this city, and was preparing to cut off my own head before the goddess Durgá in order to ensure thy happiness. Then a voice from heaven forbade me, saying, 'Do not so, the king's wish shall be fulfilled.' Therefore, I believe, thou art sure of success." When he had said this, that Sinhagupta took leave of the king, and rapidly despatched two emissaries after Sarvavarman; who feeding only on air, observing a vow of silence, steadfast in resolution, reached at last the shrine of the Lord Kártikeya. There, pleased with his penance that spared not the body, Kártikeya favoured him according to his desire; then the two spies sent by Sinhagupta came into the king's presence and reported the minister's success. On hearing that news the king was delighted and I was despondent, as the chátaka joys, and the swan grieves, on seeing the cloud. [95] Then Sarvavarman arrived successful by the favour of Kártikeya, and communicated to the king all the sciences, which presented themselves to him on his thinking of them. And immediately they were revealed to the king Sátaváhana. For what cannot the grace of the Supreme Lord accomplish? Then the kingdom rejoiced on hearing that the king had thus obtained all knowledge, and there was high festival kept throughout it; and that moment banners were flaunted from every house, and being fanned by the wind, seemed to dance. Then Sarvavarman was honoured with abundance of jewels fit for a king by the sovereign, who bowed humbly before him, calling him his spiritual preceptor, and he was made governor of the territory called Vakakachchha, which lies along the bank of the Narmadá. The king being highly pleased with that Rájpút Sinhagupta, who first heard by the mouth of his spies, that the boon had been obtained from the six-faced god, [96] made him equal to himself in splendour and power. And that queen too, the daughter of Vishnusakti, who was the cause of his acquiring learning, he exalted at one bound above all the queens, through affection anointing [97] her with his own hand.

Chapter VII

Then, having taken a vow of silence, I came into the presence of the sovereign, and there a certain Bráhman recited a sloka he had composed, and the king himself addressed him correctly in the Sanskrit language; and the people who were present in court were delighted when they witnessed that. Then the king said deferentially to Sarvavarman--"Tell me thyself after what fashion the god shewed thee favour." Hearing that, Sarvavarman proceeded to relate to the king the whole story of Kártikeya's favourable acceptance of him.

"I went, O king, on that occasion fasting and silent from this place, so when the journey came to an end, being very despondent, and emaciated with my severe austerities, worn out I fell senseless on the ground. Then, I remember, a man with a spear in his hand came and said to me in distinct accents, 'Rise up, my son, everything shall turn out favourably for thee.' By that speech I was, as it were, immediately bedewed with a shower of nectar, and I woke up, and seemed free from hunger and thirst and in good ease. Then I approached the neighbourhood of the god's temple, overpowered with the weight of my devotion, and after bathing I entered the inner shrine of the god in a state of agitated suspense. Then that Lord Skanda [98] gave me a sight of himself within, and thereupon Sarasvatí in visible shape entered my mouth. So that holy god, manifested before me, recited the sútra beginning 'the traditional doctrine of letters.' On hearing that, I, with the levity which is so natural to mankind, guessed the next sútra and uttered it myself. Then that god said to me, 'if thou hadst not uttered it thyself, this grammatical treatise would have supplanted that of Pánini. As it is, on account of its conciseness, it shall be called Kátantra, and Kálápaka, from the tail (kalápa) of the peacock on which I ride.' Having said this, that god himself in visible form revealed to me that new and short grammar, [99] and then added this besides; 'That king of thine in a former birth was himself a holy sage, a pupil of the hermit Bharadvája, named Krishna, great in austerity: and he, having beheld a hermit's daughter who loved him in return, suddenly felt the smart of the wound which the shaft of the flowery-arrowed god inflicts. So, having been cursed by the hermits, he has now become incarnate here, and that hermit's daughter has become incarnate as his queen.

So this king Sátaváhana, being an incarnation of a holy sage, [100] when he beholds thee, will attain a knowledge of all the sciences according to thy wish. For the highest matters are easily acquired by great-souled ones, having been learnt in a former birth, the real truth of them being recalled by their powerful memories.' [101] When the god had said this, he disappeared, and I went out, and there grains of rice were presented me by the god's servants. Then I proceeded to return, O king, and wonderful to say, though I consumed those grains on my journey day after day, they remained as numerous as ever." When he had related his adventure, Sarvavarman ceased speaking, and king Sátaváhana in cheerful mood rose up and went to bathe.

Then I, being excluded from business by my vow of silence, took leave, with a low bow only, of that king who was very averse to part with me, and went out of that town, accompanied by only two disciples, and, with my mind bent on the performance of austerities, came to visit the shrine of the dweller in the Vindhya hills, and having been directed by the goddess in a dream to visit thee, I entered for that purpose this terrible Vindhya forest. A hint given by a Pulinda enabled me to find a caravan, and so somehow or other, by the special favour of destiny, I managed to arrive here, and beheld this host of Pisáchas, and by hearing from a distance their conversation with one another, I have contrived to learn this Paisácha language, which has enabled me to break my vow of silence; I then made use of it to ask after you, and, hearing that you had gone to Ujjayiní, I waited here until your return; on beholding you I welcomed you in the fourth language, (the speech of the Pisáchas), and then I called to mind my origin; this is the story of my adventures in this birth.

When Gunádhya had said this, Kánabhúti said to him,--"hear, how your arrival was made known to me last night. I have a friend, a Rákshasa of the name of Bhútivarman, who possesses heavenly insight; and I went to a garden in Ujjayiní, where he resides. On my asking him when my own curse would come to an end, he said, we have no power in the day, wait, and I will tell you at night. I consented and when night came on, I asked him earnestly the reason why goblins [102] delighted in disporting themselves then, as they were doing. Then Bhútivarman said to me, 'Listen, I will relate what I heard Siva say in a conversation with Brahmá. Rákshasas, Yakshas, and Pisáchas have no power in the day, being dazed with the brightness of the sun, therefore they delight in the night. And where the gods are not worshipped, and the Bráhmans, in due form, and where men eat contrary to the holy law, there also they have power. Where there is a man who abstains from flesh, or a virtuous woman, there they do not go. They never attack chaste men, heroes, and men awake.' [103] When he said this on that occasion Bhútivarman continued, 'Go, for Gunádhya has arrived, the destined means of thy release from the curse.' So hearing this, I have come, and I have seen thee, my lord; now I will relate to thee that tale which Pushpadanta told; but I feel curiosity on one point; tell me why he was called Pushpadanta and thou Mályaván."

Story of Pushpadanta.

Hearing this question from Kánabhúti, Gunádhya said to him. On the bank of the Ganges there is a district granted to Bráhmans by royal charter, named Bahusuvarnaka, and there lived there a very learned Bráhman named Govindadatta, and he had a wife Agnidattá who was devoted to her husband. In course of time that Bráhman had five sons by her. And they, being handsome but stupid, grew up insolent fellows. Then a guest came to the house of Govindadatta, a Bráhman Vaisvánara by name, like a second god of fire. [104] As Govindadatta was away from home when he arrived, he came and saluted his sons, and they only responded to his salute with a laugh; then that Bráhman in a rage prepared to depart from his house. While he was in this state of wrath Govindadatta came, and asked the cause, and did his best to appease him, but the excellent Bráhman nevertheless spoke as follows--"Your sons have become outcasts, as being blockheads, and you have lost caste by associating with them, therefore I will not eat in your house; if I did so, I should not be able to purify myself by any expiatory ceremony." Then Govindadatta said to him with an oath, "I will never even touch these wicked sons of mine." His hospitable wife also came and said the same to her guest; then Vaisvánara was with difficulty induced to accept their hospitality. One of Govindadatta's sons, named Devadatta, when he saw that, was grieved at his father's sternness, and thinking a life of no value which was thus branded by his parents, went in a state of despondency to the hermitage of Badariká to perform penance; there he first ate leaves, and afterwards he fed only on smoke, persevering in a long course of austerities in order to propitiate the husband of Umá [105]. So Sambhu, won over by his severe austerities, manifested himself to him, and he craved a boon from the god, that he might ever attend upon him. Sambhu thus commanded him--"Acquire learning, and enjoy pleasures on the earth, and after that thou shalt attain all thy desire." Then he, eager for learning, went to the city of Pátaliputra, and according to custom waited on an instructor named Vedakumbha. When he was there, the wife of his preceptor distracted by passion, which had arisen in her heart, made violent love to him; alas! the fancies of women are ever inconstant! Accordingly Devadatta left that place, as his studies had been thus interfered with by the god of love, and went to Pratishthána with unwearied zeal. There he repaired to an old preceptor named Mantrasvámin, with an old wife, and acquired a perfect knowledge of the sciences. And after he had acquired learning, the daughter of the king Susarman, Srí by name, cast eyes upon the handsome youth, as the goddess Srí upon Vishnu. He also beheld that maiden at a window, looking like the presiding goddess of the moon, roaming through the air in a magic chariot. Those two were, as it were, fastened together by that look which was the chain of love, and were unable to separate. The king's daughter made him a sign to come near with one finger, looking like Love's command in fleshly form. Then he came near her, and she came out of the women's apartments, and took with her teeth a flower and threw it down to him. He, not understanding this mysterious sign made by the princess, puzzled as to what he ought to do, went home to his preceptor. There he rolled on the ground unable to utter a word, being consumed within with burning pain, like one dumb and distracted; his wise preceptor guessing what was the matter by these love-symptoms, artfully questioned him, and at last he was with difficulty persuaded to tell the whole story. Then the clever preceptor guessed the riddle, and said to him, [106] "By letting drop a flower with her tooth she made a sign to you, that you were to go to this temple rich in flowers called Pushpadanta, and wait there: so you had better go now." When he heard this and knew the meaning of the sign, the youth forgot his grief. Then he went into that temple and remained there. The princess on her part also went there, giving as an excuse that it was the eighth day of the month, and then entered the inner shrine in order to present herself alone before the god; then she touched her lover who was behind the panel of the door, and he suddenly springing up threw his arms round her neck. She exclaimed, "this is strange; how did you guess the meaning of that sign of mine?" He replied, "it was my preceptor that found it out, not I." Then the princess flew into a passion and said, "Let me go, you are a dolt," and immediately rushed out of the temple, fearing that her secret would be discovered. Devadatta on his part went away, and thinking in solitude on his beloved, who was no sooner seen than lost to his eyes, was in such a state that the taper of his life was well nigh melted away in the fire of bereavement. Siva, who had been before propitiated by him, commanded an attendant of his, of the name of Panchasikha, to procure for him the desire of his heart. That excellent Gana thereupon came, and consoled him, and caused him to assume the dress of a woman, and he himself wore the semblance of an aged Bráhman. Then that worthy Gana went with him to king Susarman the father of that bright-eyed one, and said to him; "My son has been sent away somewhere, I go to seek him: accordingly I deposit with thee this daughter-in-law of mine, keep her safely, O king." Hearing that, king Susarman afraid of a Bráhman's curse, took the young man and placed him in his daughter's guarded seraglio, supposing him to be a woman. Then after the departure of Panchasikha, the Bráhman dwelt in woman's clothes in the seraglio of his beloved, and became her trusted confidante. Once on a time the princess was full of regretful longing at night, so he discovered himself to her and secretly married her by the Gándharva form of marriage. And when she became pregnant, that excellent Gana came on his thinking of him only, and carried him away at night without its being perceived. Then he quickly rent off from the young man his woman's dress, and in the morning Panchasikha resumed the semblance of a Bráhman; and going with the young man to the king Susarman he said; "O king, I have this day found my son: so give me back my daughter-in-law." Then the king, supposing that she had fled somewhere at night, alarmed at the prospect of being cursed by the Bráhman, said this to his ministers. "This is no Bráhman, this is some god come to deceive me, for such things often happen in this world.

Story of king Sivi.

So in former times there was a king named Sivi, self-denying, compassionate, generous, resolute, the protector of all creatures; and in order to beguile him Indra assumed the shape of a hawk, and swiftly pursued Dharma, [107] who by magic had transformed himself into a dove. The dove in terror went and took refuge in the bosom of Sivi. Then the hawk addressed the king with a human voice; 'O king, this is my natural food, surrender the dove to me, for I am hungry. Know that my death will immediately follow if you refuse my prayer; in that case where will be your righteousness?' Then Sivi said to the god,--'this creature has fled to me for protection, and I cannot abandon it, therefore I will give you an equal weight of some other kind of flesh.' The hawk said, 'if this be so, then give me your own flesh.' The king, delighted, consented to do so. But as fast as he cut off his flesh and threw it on the scale, the dove seemed to weigh more and more in the balance. Then the king threw his whole body on to the scale, and thereupon a celestial voice was heard, 'Well done! this is equal in weight to the dove.' Then Indra and Dharma abandoned the form of hawk and dove, and being highly pleased restored the body of king Sivi whole as before, and, after bestowing on him many other blessings, they both disappeared. In the same way this Bráhman is some god that has come to prove me." [108]

Having said this to his ministers, that king Susarman of his own motion said to that excellent Gana that had assumed the form of a Bráhman, prostrating himself before him in fear, "Spare me; that daughter-in-law of thine was carried off last night. She has been taken somewhere or other by magic arts, though guarded night and day." Then the Gana, who had assumed the Bráhman's semblance, pretending to be with difficulty won over to pity him, said, "If this be so, king, give thy daughter in marriage to my son." When he heard this, the king afraid of being cursed, gave his own daughter to Devadatta: then Panchasikha departed. Then Devadatta having recovered his beloved, and that in an open manner, flourished in the power and splendour of his father-in-law who had no son but him. And in course of time Susarman anointed the son of his daughter by Devadatta, Mahídhara by name, as successor in his room, and retired to the forest. Then having seen the prosperity of his son, Devadatta considered that he had attained all his objects, and he too with the princess retired to the forest. There he again propitiated Siva, and having laid aside his mortal body, by the special favour of the god he attained the position of a Gana. Because he did not understand the sign given by the flower dropped from the tooth of his beloved, therefore he became known by the name of Pushpadanta in the assembly of the Ganas. And his wife became a door-keeper in the house of the goddess, under the name of Jayá: this is how he came to be called Pushpadanta: now hear the origin of my name.

Long ago I was a son of that same Bráhman called Govindadatta the father of Devadatta, and my name was Somadatta. I left my home indignant for the same reason as Devadatta, and I performed austerities on the Himálaya continually striving to propitiate Siva with offerings of many garlands. The god of the moony crest, being pleased, revealed himself to me in the same way as he did to my brother, and I chose the privilege of attending upon him as a Gana, not being desirous of lower pleasures. The husband of the daughter of the mountain, that mighty god, thus addressed me; "Because I have been worshipped by thee with garlands of flowers growing in trackless forest-regions, brought with thy own hand, therefore thou shalt be one of my Ganas, and shalt bear the name of Mályaván." Then I cast off my mortal frame, and immediately attained the holy state of an attendant on the god. And so my name of Mályaván was bestowed upon me by him who wears the burden of the matted locks, [109] as a mark of his special favour. And I, that very Mályaván, have once more, O Kánabhúti, been degraded to the state of a mortal, as thou seest, owing to the curse of the daughter of the mountain, therefore do thou now tell me the tale told by Siva, in order that the state of curse of both of us may cease.

NOTE TO CHAPTER VII.

"Rákshasas, Yakshas, and Pisáchas have no power in the day, being dazed with the brightness of the sun therefore they delight in the night."

Farmer commenting on Hamlet, Act I, Sc. I, 150, quotes the following lines of Prudentius Ad Gallicinium. Ferunt vagantes dæmonas, Lætos tenebris noctium, Gallo canente exterritos, Sparsim timere et cedere. Hoc esse signum præscii Norunt repromissæ spei, Qua nos soporis liberi Speramus adventum Dei. Douce quotes from another hymn said to have been composed by Saint Ambrose and formerly used in the Salisbury service. Præco dici jam sonat, Noctis profundæ pervigil; Nocturna lux viantibus, A nocte noctem segregans. Hoc excitatus Lucifer Solvit polum caligine; Hoc omnis errorum cohors Viam nocendi deserit. Gallo canente spes redit &c.

See also Grössler's Sagen der Grafschaft Mansfeld, pp. 58 and 59; the Pentamerone of Basile, translated by Liebrecht, Vol. I, p. 251; Dasent's Norse Tales, p. 347, "The Troll turned round, and, of course, as soon as he saw the sun, he burst;" Grimm's Irische Märchen, p. x; Kuhn's Westfälische Märchen, p. 63; Schöppner's Sagenbuch der Bayerischen Lande, Vol. I, pp. 123, and 228; and Bernhard Schmidt's Griechische Märchen, p. 138. He quotes the following interesting passage from the Philopseudes of Lucian, Synên achri dê alektryonôn êkousamen adontôn tote dê hê te Selênê aneptato eis ton ouranon kai hê Hekatê edy kata tês gês, kai ta alla phasmata êphanisthê, &c.

Chapter VIII

In accordance with this request of Gunádhya that heavenly tale consisting of seven stories was told by Kánabhúti in his own language, and Gunádhya for his part using the same Paisácha language threw them into seven hundred thousand couplets in seven years; and that great poet, for fear that the Vidyádharas should steal his composition, wrote it with his own blood in the forest, not possessing ink. And so the Vidyádharas, Siddhas and other demigods came to hear it, and the heaven above where Kánabhúti was reciting, was, as it were, continually covered with a canopy. And Kánabhúti, when he had seen that great tale composed by Gunádhya, was released from his curse and went to his own place. There were also other Pisáchas that accompanied him in his wanderings: they too all of them attained heaven, having heard that heavenly tale. Then that great poet Gunádhya began to reflect, "I must make this Great Tale [110] of mine current on the earth, for that is the condition that the goddess mentioned when she revealed how my curse would end. Then how shall I make it current? To whom shall I give it?" Then his two disciples that had followed him, one of whom was called Gunadeva, and the other Nandideva said to him, "The glorious Sátaváhana alone is a fit person to give this poem to, for being a man of taste he will diffuse the poem far and wide, as the wind diffuses the perfume of the flower." "So be it," said Gunádhya, and gave the book to those two accomplished disciples and sent them to that king with it; and went himself to that same Pratishthána, but remained outside the city in the garden planted by the goddess, where he arranged that they should meet him. And his disciples went and showed the poem to king Sátaváhana, telling him at the same time that it was the work of Gunádhya. When he heard that Paisácha language and saw that they had the appearance of Pisáchas, that king, led astray by pride of learning, said with a sneer, "The seven hundred thousand couplets are a weighty authority, but the Paisácha language is barbarous, and the letters are written in blood; away with this Paisácha tale." Then the two pupils took the book, and returned by the way which they came, and told the whole circumstance to Gunádhya. Gunádhya for his part, when he heard it, was immediately overcome with sorrow; who indeed is not inly grieved when scorned by a competent authority? Then he went with his disciples to a craggy hill at no great distance, in an unfrequented but pleasant spot, and first prepared a consecrated fire cavity. Then he took the leaves one by one, and after he had read them aloud to the beasts and birds, he flung them into the fire while his disciples looked on with tearful eyes. But he reserved one story, consisting of one hundred thousand couplets, containing the history of Naraváhanadatta, for the sake of his two disciples, as they particularly fancied it. And while he was reading out and burning that heavenly tale, all the deer, boars, buffaloes and other wild animals, came there, leaving the pasturage, and formed a circle around him, listening with tears in their eyes, unable to quit the spot. [111]

In the meanwhile king Sátaváhana fell sick. And the physicians said that his illness was due to eating meat wanting in nutritive qualities. And when the cooks were scolded for it, they said--"The hunters bring in to us flesh of this kind." And when the hunters were taken to task, they said,--"On a hill not very far from here there is a Bráhman reading, who throws into the fire every leaf as soon as he has read it; so all the animals go there and listen without ever grazing, they never wander anywhere else, consequently this flesh of theirs is wanting in nutritive properties on account of their going without food." When he heard this speech of the hunters he made them shew him the way, and out of curiosity went in person to see Gunádhya, and he beheld him owing to his forest life overspread with matted locks, that looked like the smoke of the fire of his curse, that was almost extinguished.

Then the king recognized him as he stood in the midst of the weeping animals, and after he had respectfully saluted him, he asked him for an explanation of all the circumstances. That wise Bráhman then related to the king in the language of the demons his own history as Pushpadanta, giving an account of the curse and all the circumstances which originated the descent of the tale to earth. Then the king, discovering that he was an incarnation of a Gana, bowed at his feet, and asked him for that celestial tale that had issued from the mouth of Siva. Then Gunádhya said to that king Sátaváhana; "O king I have burnt six tales containing six hundred thousand couplets; but here is one tale consisting of a hundred thousand couplets, take that: [112] and these two pupils of mine shall explain it to you." So spake Gunádhya and took leave of the king, and then by strength of devotion laid aside his earthly body, and released from the curse ascended to his own heavenly home. Then the king took that tale which Gunádhya had given, called Vrihat Kathá, containing the adventures of Naraváhanadatta, and went to his own city. And there he bestowed on Gunadeva and Nandideva, the pupils of the poet who composed that tale, lands, gold, garments, beasts of burden, palaces, and treasures. And having recovered the sense of that tale with their help, Sátaváhana composed the book named Kathápítha, in order to shew how the tale came to be first made known in the Paisácha language. Now that tale was so full of various interest, that men were so taken up with it as to forget the tales of the gods, and after producing that effect in the city it attained uninterrupted renown in the three worlds.

II. CALLED KATHÁMUKHA

This nectarous tale sprang in old time from the mouth of Siva, set in motion by his love for the daughter of the Himálaya, as the nectar of immortality sprang from the sea, when churned by the mountain Mandara. Those who drink eagerly the nectar of this tale, have all impediments removed and gain prosperity, and by the favour of Siva attain, while living upon earth, the high rank of gods.

Chapter IX

May the water of Siva's sweat, fresh from the embrace of Gaurí, [113] which the god of love when afraid of the fire of Siva's eye, employs as his aqueous weapon, protect you.

Listen to the following tale of the Vidyádharas, which the excellent Gana Pushpadanta heard on mount Kailása from the god of the matted locks, and which Kánabhúti heard on the earth from the same Pushpadanta after he had become Vararuchi, and which Gunádhya heard from Kánabhúti, and Sátaváhana heard from Gunádhya.

Story of Udayana king of Vatsa.

There is a land famous under the name of Vatsa, that appears as if it had been made by the Creator as an earthly rival to dash the pride of heaven. In the centre of it is a great city named Kausámbí, the favourite dwelling-place of the goddess of prosperity; the ear-ornament, so to speak, of the earth. In it dwelt a king named Satáníka, sprung from the Pándava family, he was the son of Janamejaya, and the grandson of king Paríkshit, who was the great-grandson of Abhimanyu. The first progenitor of his race was Arjuna, the might of whose strong arms was tested in a struggle with the mighty arms of Siva; [114] his wife was the earth, and also Vishnumatí his queen; the first produced jewels, but the second did not produce a son. Once on a time, as that king was roaming about in his passion for the chase, he made acquaintance in the forest with the hermit Sándilya. That worthy sage finding out that the king desired a son, came to Kausámbí and administered to his queen an artfully prepared oblation [115] consecrated with mystic verses. Then he had a son born to him called Sahasráníka. And his father was adorned by him as excellence is by modesty. Then in course of time Satáníka made that son crown-prince and though he still enjoyed kingly pleasures, ceased to trouble himself about the cares of government. Then a war arose between the gods and Asuras, and Indra sent Mátali as a messenger to that king begging for aid. Then he committed his son and his kingdom to the care of his principal minister, who was called Yogandhara, and his Commander-in-chief, whose name was Supratíka, and went to Indra with Mátali to slay the Asuras in fight. That king, having slain many Asuras, of whom Yamadanshtra was the chief, under the eyes of Indra, met death in that very battle. The king's body was brought back by Mátali, and the queen burnt herself with it, and the royal dignity descended to his son Sahasráníka. Wonderful to say, when that king ascended his father's throne, the heads of the kings on every side of his dominions were bent down with the weight. Then Indra sent Mátali, and brought to heaven that Sahasráníka, as being the son of his friend, that he might be present at the great feast which he was holding to celebrate his victory over his foes. There the king saw the gods, attended by their fair ones, sporting in the garden of Nandana, and desiring for himself a suitable wife, fell into low spirits. Then Indra, perceiving this desire of his, said to him; "King, away with despondency, this desire of thine shall be accomplished. For there has been born upon the earth one, who was long ago ordained a suitable match for thee. For listen to the following history, which I now proceed to relate to thee.

"Long ago I went to the court of Brahmá in order to visit him, and a certain Vasu named Vidhúma followed me. While we were there, an Apsaras [116] named Alambushá came to see Brahmá, and her robe was blown aside by the wind. And the Vasu, when he beheld her, was overpowered by love, and the Apsaras too had her eyes immediately attracted by his form. The lotus-sprung god, [117] when he beheld that, looked me full in the face, and I, knowing his meaning, in wrath cursed those two, 'Be born, you two, shameless creatures, into the world of mortals, and there become man and wife.' That Vasu has been born as thou, Sahasráníka, the son of Satáníka, an ornament to the race of the moon. And that Apsaras too has been born in Ayodhyá as the daughter of king Kritavarman, Mrigávatí by name, she shall be thy wife." By these words of Indra the flame of love was fanned in the passionate [118] heart of the king and burst out into full blaze; as a fire when fanned by the wind. Indra then dismissed the king from heaven with all due honour in his own chariot, and he set out with Mátali [119] for his capital. But as he was starting, the Apsaras Tilottamá said to him out of affection, "King I have somewhat to say to thee, wait a moment." But he, thinking on Mrigávatí, went off without hearing what she said, then Tilottamá in her rage cursed him; "King, thou shalt be separated for fourteen years from her who has so engrossed thy mind that thou dost not hear my speech." Now Mátali heard that curse, but the king, yearning for his beloved, did not. In the chariot he went to Kausámbí but in spirit he went to Ayodhyá. Then the king told with longing heart, all that he had heard from Indra with reference to Mrigávatí, to his ministers, Yogandhara and the others: and not being able to endure delay, he sent an ambassador to Ayodhyá to ask her father Kritavarman for the hand of that maiden. And Kritavarman having heard from the ambassador his commission, told in his joy the queen Kalávatí, and then she said to him--"King we ought certainly to give Mrigávatí to Sahasráníka, and, I remember, a certain Bráhman told me this very thing in a dream"; then in his delight the king showed to the ambassador Mrigávatí's wonderful skill in dancing, singing, and other accomplishments, and her matchless beauty; so the king Kritavarman gave to Sahasráníka that daughter of his who was unequalled as a mine of graceful arts, and who shone like an incarnation of the moon; that marriage of Sahasráníka and Mrigávatí was one in which the good qualities of either party supplemented those of the other, and might be compared to the union of learning and intelligence.

Not long after sons were born to the king's ministers; Yogandhara had a son born to him named Yaugandharáyana; and Supratíka had a son born to him named Rumanvat. And to the king's master of the revels was born a son named Vasantaka. Then in a few days Mrigávatí became slightly pale and promised to bear a child to king Sahasráníka. And then she asked the king, who was never tired of looking at her, to gratify her longing by filling a tank full of blood for her to bathe in. Accordingly the king, who was a righteous man, in order to gratify her desire, had a tank filled with the juice of lac and other red extracts, so that it seemed to be full of blood. [120] And while she was bathing in that lake, and covered with red dye, a bird of the race of Garuda [121] suddenly pounced upon her and carried her off thinking she was raw flesh. As soon as she was carried away in some unknown direction by the bird, the king became distracted, and his self-command forsook him as if in order to go in search of her. His heart was so attached to his beloved that it was in very truth carried off by that bird, and thus he fell senseless upon the earth. As soon as he had recovered his senses, Mátali, who had discovered all by his divine power, descended through the air and came where the king was. He consoled the king, and told him the curse of Tilottamá with its destined end, as he had heard it long ago, and then he took his departure. Then the king tormented with grief lamented on this wise; "Alas my beloved, that wicked Tilottamá has accomplished her desire." But having learned the facts about the curse, and having received advice from his ministers, he managed, though with difficulty, to retain his life through hope of a future reunion.

But that bird, which had carried off Mrigávatí, as soon as it found out that she was alive, abandoned her, and as fate would have it, left her on the mountain where the sun rises. And when the bird let her drop and departed, the queen, distracted with grief and fear, saw that she was left unprotected on the slope of a trackless mountain. While she was weeping in the forest, alone, with one garment only to cover her, an enormous serpent rose up and prepared to swallow her. Then she, for whom prosperity was reserved in the future, was delivered by some heavenly hero that came down and slew the serpent, and disappeared almost as soon as he was seen. Thereupon she, longing for death, flung herself down in front of a wild elephant, but even he spared her as if out of compassion. Wonderful was it that even a wild beast did not slay her when she fell in his way! Or rather it was not to be wondered at. What cannot the will of Siva effect?

Then the girl tardy with the weight of her womb, desiring to hurl herself down from a precipice, and thinking upon that lord of hers, wept aloud; and a hermit's son, who had wandered there in search of roots and fruits, hearing that, came up, and found her looking like the incarnation of sorrow. And he, after questioning the queen about her adventures, and comforting her as well as he could, with a heart melted with compassion led her off to the hermitage of Jamadagni. There she beheld Jamadagni, looking like the incarnation of comfort, whose brightness so illumined the eastern mountain that it seemed as if the rising sun ever rested on it. When she fell at his feet, that hermit who was kind to all that came to him for help, and possessed heavenly insight, said to her who was tortured with the pain of separation; "Here there shall be born to thee, my daughter, a son that shall uphold the family of his father, and thou shalt be reunited to thy husband, therefore weep not." When that virtuous woman heard that speech of the hermit's, she took up her abode in that hermitage, and entertained hope of a reunion with her beloved. And some days after, the blameless one gave birth to a charmingly beautiful son, as association with the good produces good manners. At that moment a voice was heard from heaven; "an august king of great renown has been born, Udayana by name, and his son shall be monarch of all the Vidyádharas." That voice restored to the heart of Mrigávatí joy which she had long forgotten. Gradually that boy grew up to size and strength in that grove of asceticism, accompanied by his own excellent qualities as playmates. And the heroic child had the sacraments appropriate to a member of the warrior-caste performed for him by Jamadagni, and was instructed by him in the sciences, and the practice of archery. And out of love for him Mrigávatí drew off from her own wrist, and placed on his, a bracelet marked with the name of Sahasráníka. Then that Udayana roaming about once upon a time in pursuit of deer, beheld in the forest a snake that had been forcibly captured by a Savara. [122] And he, feeling pity for the beautiful snake, said to that Savara, "Let go this snake to please me." Then that Savara said, "My lord, this is my livelihood, for I am a poor man, and I always maintain myself by exhibiting dancing snakes. The snake I previously had having died, I searched through this great wood, and, finding this one, overpowered him by charms and captured him." When he heard this, the generous Udayana gave that Savara the bracelet which his mother had bestowed on him, and persuaded him to set the snake at liberty. The Savara took the bracelet and departed, and then the snake being pleased with Udayana bowed before him and said as follows, "I am the eldest brother of Vásuki, [123] called Vasunemi: receive from me, whom thou hast preserved, this lute, sweet in the sounding of its strings, divided according to the division of the quarter-tones; and betel leaf, together with the art of weaving unfading garlands, and adorning the forehead with marks that never become indistinct." Then Udayana furnished with all these, and dismissed by the snake, returned to the hermitage of Jamadagni, raining nectar, so to speak, into the eyes of his mother.

In the meanwhile that Savara who had lighted on this forest, and while roaming about in it had obtained the bracelet from Udayana by the will of fate, was caught attempting to sell this ornament marked with the king's name in the market, and was arrested by the police, and brought up in court before the king. Then king Sahasráníka himself asked him in sorrow whence he had obtained the bracelet. Then that Savara told him the whole story of his obtaining possession of the bracelet, beginning with his capture of the snake upon the eastern mountain. Hearing that from the Savara, and beholding that bracelet of his beloved, king Sahasráníka ascended the swing of doubt.

Then a divine voice from heaven delighted the king who was tortured with the fire of separation, as the rain-drops delight the peacock when afflicted with the heat, uttering these words--"Thy curse is at an end, O king, and that wife of thine Mrigávatí is residing in the hermitage of Jamadagni together with thy son." Then that day at last came to an end, though made long by anxious expectation, and on the morrow that king Sahasráníka, making the Savara show him the way, set out with his army for that hermitage on the eastern mountain, in order quickly to recover his beloved wife.

Chapter X

After he had gone a long distance the king encamped that day in a certain forest on the border of a lake. He went to bed weary, and in the evening he said to Sangataka a story-teller who had come to him on account of the pleasure he took in his service; "Tell me some tale that will gladden my heart, for I am longing for the joy of beholding the lotus-face of Mrigávatí." Then Sangataka said, King why do you grieve without cause? The union with your queen, which will mark the termination of your curse, is nigh at hand. Human beings experience many unions and separations: and I will tell you a story to illustrate this; listen, my lord!

Story of Srídatta and Mrigánkavatí.

Once on a time there lived in the country of Málava a Bráhman named Yajnasoma. And that good man had two sons born to him, beloved by men. One of them was known as Kálanemi and the second was named Vigatabhaya. Now, when their father had gone to heaven, those two brothers, having passed through the age of childhood, went to the city of Pátaliputra to acquire learning. And when they had completed their studies, their teacher Devasarman gave them his own two daughters, like another couple of sciences incarnate in bodily form.

Then seeing that the householders around him were rich, Kálanemi through envy made a vow and propitiated the goddess of Fortune with burnt-offerings. And the goddess being satisfied appeared in bodily form and said to him--"Thou shalt obtain great wealth and a son who shall rule the earth; but at last thou shalt be put to death like a robber, because thou hast offered flesh in the fire with impure motives." When she had said this, the goddess disappeared; and Kálanemi in course of time became very rich; moreover after some days a son was born to him. So the father, whose desires were now accomplished, called that son Srídatta, [124] because he had been obtained by the favour of the goddess of Fortune. In course of time Srídatta grew up, and though a Bráhman, became matchless upon earth in the use of weapons, and in boxing and wrestling.

Then Kálanemi's brother Vigatabhaya went to a foreign land, having become desirous of visiting places of pilgrimage, through sorrow for his wife, who died of the bite of a snake.

Moreover the king of the land, Vallabhasakti, who appreciated good qualities, made Srídatta the companion of his son Vikramasakti. So he had to live with a haughty prince, as the impetuous Bhíma lived in his youth with Duryodhana. Then two Kshatriyas, natives of Avanti, Báhusálin and Vajramushti became friends of that Bráhman's. And some other men from the Deccan, sons of ministers, having been conquered by him in wrestling, resorted to him out of spontaneous friendship, as they knew how to value merit. Mahábala and Vyághrabhata and also Upendrabala and a man named Nishthuraka became his friends. One day, as years rolled on, Srídatta, being in attendance on the prince, went with him and those friends to sport on the bank of the Ganges; then the prince's own servants made him king, and at the same time Srídatta was chosen king by his friends. This made the prince angry, and in over-weening confidence he at once challenged that Bráhman hero to fight. Then being conquered by him in wrestling, and so disgraced, he made up his mind that this rising hero should be put to death. But Srídatta found out that intention of the prince's, and withdrew in alarm with those friends of his from his presence. And as he was going along, he saw in the middle of the Ganges a woman being dragged under by the stream, looking like the goddess of Fortune in the middle of the sea. And then he plunged in to pull her out of the water, leaving Báhusálin and his five other friends on the bank. Then that woman, though he seized her by the hair, sank deep in the water; and he dived as deep in order to follow her. And after he had dived a long way, he suddenly saw a splendid temple of Siva, but no water and no woman. [125] After beholding that wonderful sight, being wearied out he paid his adorations to the god whose emblem is a bull, and spent that night in a beautiful garden attached to the temple. And in the morning that lady was seen by him having come to worship the god Siva, like the incarnate splendour of beauty attended by all womanly perfections. And after she had worshipped the god, the moon-faced one departed to her own house, and Srídatta for his part followed her. And he saw that palace of hers resembling the city of the gods, which the haughty beauty entered hurriedly in a contemptuous manner. And without deigning to address him, the graceful lady sat down on a sofa in the inner part of the house, waited upon by thousands of women. And Srídatta also took a seat near her; then suddenly that virtuous lady began to weep. The tear-drops fell in an unceasing shower on her bosom, and that moment pity entered into the heart of Srídatta. And then he said to her, "Who art thou, and what is thy sorrow? Tell me, fair one, for I am able to remove it." Then she said reluctantly, "We are the thousand granddaughters of Bali [126] the king of the Daityas, and I am the eldest of all, and my name is Vidyutprabhá. That grandfather of ours was carried off by Vishnu to long imprisonment, and the same hero slew our father in a wrestling-match. And after he had slain him, he excluded us from our own city, and he placed a lion in it to prevent us from entering. The lion occupies that place, and grief our hearts. It is a Yaksha that was made a lion by the curse of Kuvera, and long ago it was predicted that the Yaksha's curse should end when he was conquered by some mortal; so Vishnu deigned to inform us on our humbly asking him how we might be enabled to enter our city. Therefore subdue that lion our enemy; it was for that reason, O hero, that I enticed you hither. And when you have overcome him you will obtain from him a sword named Mrigánka, by the virtue of which you shall conquer the world and become a king." When he heard that, Srídatta agreed to undertake the adventure, and after that day had passed, on the morrow he took those Daitya maidens with him as guides, and went to that city, and there he overcame in wrestling that haughty lion. [127] He being freed from his curse assumed a human form, and out of gratitude gave his sword to the man who had put an end to his curse, and then disappeared together with the burden of the sorrow of the great Asura's daughter. Then that Srídatta, together with the Daitya's daughter, who was accompanied by her younger sisters, entered that splendid city which looked like the serpent Ananta [128] having emerged from the earth. And that Daitya maiden gave him a ring that destroyed the effect of poison. Then that young man remaining there fell in love with her. And she cunningly said to him, "Bathe in this tank, and when you dive in, take with you this sword [129] to keep off the danger of crocodiles." He consented, and diving into the tank, rose upon that very bank of the Ganges from which he first plunged in. Then he, seeing the ring and the sword, felt astonishment at having emerged from the lower regions, and despondency at having been tricked by the Asura maid. Then he went towards his own house to look for his friends, and as he was going he saw on the way his friend Nishthuraka. Nishthuraka came up to him and saluted him, and quickly took him aside into a lonely place, and when asked by him for news of his relations, gave him this answer; "On that occasion when you plunged into the Ganges we searched for you many days, and out of grief we were preparing to cut off our heads, but a voice from heaven forbade that attempt of ours saying, 'My sons, do no rash act, your friend shall return alive.' And then we were returning into the presence of your father, when on the way a man hurriedly advanced to meet us and said this--'You must not enter this city at present, for the king of it Vallabhasakti is dead, and the ministers have with one accord conferred the royal dignity on Vikramasakti;' now the day after he was made king he went to the house of Kálanemi, and full of wrath asked him where his son Srídatta was, and he replied--'I do not know.' Then the king in a rage, supposing he had concealed his son, had him put to death by impalement as a thief. When his wife saw that, her heart broke. Men of cruel deeds must always pile one evil action upon another in long succession; and so Vikramasakti is searching for Srídatta to slay him, and you are his friends, therefore leave this place.' When the man had given us this warning, Báhusálin and his four companions being grieved went by common consent to their own home in Ujjayiní. And they left me here in concealment, my friend, for your sake. So come, let us go to that very place to meet our friends." Having heard this from Nishthuraka, and having bewailed his parents, Srídatta cast many a look at his sword, as if reposing in that his hope of vengeance; then the hero, biding his time, set out accompanied by Nishthuraka for that city of Ujjayiní in order to meet his friends.

And as he was relating to his friend his adventures from the time of his plunging into the stream, Srídatta beheld a woman weeping in the road; when she said, "I am a woman going to Ujjayiní and I have lost my way," Srídatta out of pity made her journey along with him. He and Nishthuraka, together with that woman, whom he kept with him out of compassion, halted that day in a certain deserted town. There he suddenly woke up in the night and beheld that the woman had slain Nishthuraka, and was devouring his flesh with the utmost delight. Then he rose up drawing his sword Mrigánka, and that woman assumed her own terrible form, that of a Rákshasí, [130] and he seized that night-wanderer by her hair, to slay her. That moment she assumed a heavenly shape and said to him, "Slay me not, mighty hero, let me go, I am not a Rákshasí; the hermit Visvámitra imposed this condition on me by a curse. For once when he was performing austerities from a desire to attain the position of the god of wealth, I was sent by the god to impede him. Then finding that I was not able to seduce him with my alluring form, being abashed, I assumed in order to terrify him a formidable shape. When he saw this, that hermit laid on me a curse suitable to my offence, exclaiming--'Wicked one, become a Rákshasí and slay men.' And he appointed that my curse should end when you took hold of my hair; accordingly I assumed this detestable condition of a Rákshasí, and I have devoured all the inhabitants of this town: now to-day after a long time you have brought my curse to an end in the manner foretold; therefore receive now some boon." When he heard that speech of hers, Srídatta said respectfully, "Mother grant that my friend may be restored to life. What need have I of any other boon?" "So be it," said she, and after granting the boon disappeared. And Nishthuraka rose up again alive without a scratch on his body. Then Srídatta set out the next morning with him, delighted and astonished, and at last reached Ujjayiní. There he revived by his appearance the spirits of his friends, who were anxiously expecting him, as the arrival of the cloud revives the peacocks. And after he had told all the wonders of his adventures, Báhusálin went through the usual formalities of hospitality, taking him to his own home. There Srídatta was taken care of by the parents of Báhusálin, and lived with his friends as comfortably as if he were in his own house.

Once on a time, when the great feast of spring-tide [131] had arrived, he went with his friends to behold some festal rejoicings in a garden. There he beheld a maiden, the daughter of king Bimbaki, who had come to see the show, looking like the goddess of the Splendour of Spring present in bodily form. She, by name Mrigánkavatí, that moment penetrated into his heart, as if through the openings left by the expansion of his eye. Her passionate look too, indicative of the beginning of love, fixed on him, went and returned like a confidante. When she entered a thicket of trees, Srídatta not beholding her, suddenly felt his heart so empty that he did not know where he was. His friend Báhusálin, who thoroughly understood the language of gestures, said to him, "My friend, I know your heart, do not deny your passion, therefore, come, let us go to that part of the garden where the king's daughter is." He consented and went near her accompanied by his friend. That moment a cry was heard there, which gave great pain to the heart of Srídatta, "Alas the princess has been bitten by a snake!" Báhusálin then went and said to the chamberlain--"My friend here possesses a ring that counteracts the effects of poison, and also healing spells." Immediately the chamberlain came, and bowing at his feet, quickly led Srídatta to the princess. He placed the ring on her finger, and then muttered his spells so that she revived. Then all the attendants were delighted, and loud in praise of Srídatta, and the king Bimbaki hearing the circumstances came to the place. Accordingly Srídatta returned with his friends to the house of Báhusálin without taking back the ring. And all the gold and other presents, which the delighted king sent to him there, he handed over to the father of Báhusálin. Then, thinking upon that fair one, he was so much afflicted, that his friends became utterly bewildered as to what to do with him. Then a dear friend of the princess, Bhávaniká, by name, came to him on pretence of returning the ring; and said to him, "That friend of mine, illustrious Sir, has made up her mind, that either you must save her life by becoming her husband, or she will be married to her grave." When Bhávaniká had said this, Srídatta and Báhusálin and the others quickly put their heads together and came to the following resolution, "We will carry off this princess secretly by a stratagem, and will go unperceived from here to Mathurá and live there." The plan having been thoroughly talked over, and the conspirators having agreed with one another what each was to do in order to carry it out, Bhávaniká then departed. And the next day Báhusálin, accompanied by three of his friends, went to Mathurá on pretext of trafficking, and as he went he posted in concealment at intervals swift horses for the conveyance of the princess. But Srídatta then brought at eventide a woman with her daughter into the palace of the princess, after making them both drink spirits, and then Bhávaniká, on pretence of lighting up the palace, set fire to it, and secretly conveyed the princess out of it; and that moment Srídatta, who was remaining outside, received her, and sent her on to Báhusálin, who had started in the morning, and directed two of his friends to attend on her and also Bhávaniká. Now that drunken woman and her daughter were burnt in the palace of the princess, and people supposed that the princess had been burnt with her friend. But Srídatta took care to show himself in the morning as before, in the city; then on the second night, taking with him his sword Mrigánka, he started to follow his beloved, who had set out before him. And in his eagerness he accomplished a great distance that night, and when the morning watch [132] had passed, he reached the Vindhya forest. There he first beheld unlucky omens, and afterwards he saw all those friends of his together with Bhávaniká lying in the road gashed with wounds. And when he came up all distracted, they said to him, "We were robbed to-day by a large troop of horsemen that set upon us. And after we were reduced to this state, one of the horsemen threw the terrified princess on his horse and carried her off. So before she has been carried to a great distance, go in this direction, do not remain near us, she is certainly of more importance than we." Being urged on with these words by his friends, Srídatta rapidly followed after the princess, but could not help frequently turning round to look at them. And after he had gone a considerable distance, he caught up that troop of cavalry, and he saw a young man of the warrior caste in the midst of it. And he beheld that princess held by him upon his horse. So he slowly approached that young warrior; and when soft words would not induce him to let the princess go, he hurled him from his horse with a blow of his foot, and dashed him to pieces on a rock. And after he had slain him, he mounted on his horse and slew a great number of the other horsemen who charged him in anger. And then those who remained alive, seeing that the might which the hero displayed was more than human, fled away in terror; and Srídatta mounted on the horse with the princess Mrigánkavatí and set out to find those friends of his. And after he had gone a little way, he and his wife got off the horse which had been severely wounded in the fight, and soon after it fell down and died. And then his beloved Mrigánkavatí, exhausted with fear and exertion, became very thirsty. And leaving her there, he roamed a long distance hither and thither, and while he was looking for water the sun set. Then he discovered that, though he had found water, he had lost his way, and he passed that night in the wood roaming about, moaning aloud like a Chakraváka. [133] And in the morning he reached that place, which was easy to recognise by the carcass of the horse. And nowhere there did he behold his beloved princess. Then in his distraction he placed his sword Mrigánka on the ground, and climbed to the top of a tree, in order to cast his eye in all directions for her. That very moment a certain Savara chieftain passed that way; and he came up and took the sword from the foot of the tree. Beholding that Savara chieftain, Srídatta came down from the top of the tree, and in great grief asked him for news of his beloved. The Savara chieftain said--"Leave this place and come to my village; I have no doubt she whom you seek has gone there; and I shall come there and return you this sword." When the Savara chieftain urged him to go with these words, Srídatta, being himself all eagerness, went to that village with the chief's men. And there those men said to him,--"Sleep off your fatigue,"--and when he reached the house of the chief of the village, being tired he went to sleep in an instant. And when he woke up he saw his two feet fastened with fetters, like the two efforts he had made in order to obtain his beloved, which failed to reach their object. Then he remained there weeping for his darling, who, like the course of destiny, had for a moment brought him joy, and the next moment blasted his hopes.

One day a serving maid of the name of Mochaniká came to him and said,--Illustrious Sir, unwittingly you have come hither to your death? For the Savara chieftain has gone somewhither to accomplish certain weighty affairs, and when he returns, he will offer you to Chandiká. [134] For with that object he decoyed you here by a stratagem from this slope of the wild Vindhya hill, and immediately threw you into the chains in which you now are. And it is because you are intended to be offered as a victim to the goddess, that you are continually served with garments and food. But I know of only one expedient for delivering you, if you agree to it. This Savara chieftain has a daughter named Sundarí, and she having seen you is becoming exceedingly love-sick; marry her who is my friend, then you will obtain deliverance. [135] When she said this to him, Srídatta consented, desiring to be set at liberty, and secretly made that Sundarí his wife by the Gándharva form of marriage. And every night she removed his chains and in a short time Sundarí became pregnant. Then her mother, having heard the whole story from the mouth of Mochaniká, out of love for her son-in-law Srídatta, went and of her own accord said to him--"My son, Sríchanda the father of Sundarí is a wrathful man, and will show thee no mercy. Therefore depart, but thou must not forget Sundarí." When his mother-in-law had said this, she set him at liberty, and Srídatta departed after telling Sundarí that the sword, which was in her father's possession, really belonged to himself.

So he again entered full of anxiety that forest, in which he had before wandered about, in order again to search for traces of Mrigávatí. And having seen an auspicious omen he came to that same place, where that horse of his died before, and whence his wife was carried off. And there he saw near [136] him a hunter coming towards him, and when he saw him he asked him for news of that gazelle-eyed lady. Then the hunter asked him "Are you Srídatta?" and he sighing replied "I am that unfortunate man." Then that hunter said, "Listen, friend, I have somewhat to tell you. I saw that wife of yours wandering hither and thither lamenting your absence, and having asked her her story, and consoled her, moved with compassion I took her out of this wood to my own village. But when I saw the young Pulindas [137] there, I was afraid, and I took her to a village named Nágasthala near Mathurá. [138] And then I placed her in the house of an old Bráhman named Visvadatta commending her with all due respect to his care. And thence I came here having learnt your name from her lips. Therefore you had better go quickly to Nágasthala to search for her." When the hunter had told him this, Srídatta quickly set out, and he reached Nágasthala in the evening of the second day. Then he entered the house of Visvadatta and when he saw him said, "Give me my wife who was placed here by the hunter." Visvadatta when he heard that, answered him, "I have a friend in Mathurá a Bráhman, dear to all virtuous men, the spiritual preceptor and minister of the king Súrasena. In his care I placed your wife. For this village is an out-of-the-way place and would not afford her protection. So go to that city to-morrow morning, but to-day rest here." When Visvadatta said this, he spent that night there, and the next morning he set off, and reached Mathurá on the second day. Being weary and dusty with the long journey, he bathed outside that city in the pellucid water of a lake. And he drew out of the middle of the lake a garment placed there by some robbers, not suspecting any harm. But in one corner of the garment, which was knotted up, a necklace was concealed. [139] Then Srídatta took that garment, and in his eagerness to meet his wife did not notice the necklace, and so entered the city of Mathurá. Then the city police recognized the garment, and finding the necklace, arrested Srídatta as a thief, and carried him off, and brought him before the chief magistrate exactly as he was found, with the garment in his possession; by him he was handed up to the king, and the king ordered him to be put to death.

Then, as he was being led off to the place of execution with the drum being beaten behind him, [140] his wife Mrigánkavatí saw him in the distance. She went in a state of the utmost distraction and said to the chief minister, in whose house she was residing, "Yonder is my husband being led off to execution." Then that minister went and ordered the executioners to desist, and, by making a representation to the king, got Srídatta pardoned, and had him brought to his house. And when Srídatta reached his house, and saw that minister, he recognised him and fell at his feet, exclaiming, "What! is this my uncle Vigatabhaya, who long ago went to a foreign country, and do I now by good luck find him established in the position of a minister?" He too recognised to his astonishment Srídatta as his brother's son, and embraced him, and questioned him about all his adventures. Then Srídatta related to his uncle his whole history beginning with the execution of his father. And he, after weeping, said to his nephew in private, "Do not despond, my son, for I once brought a female Yaksha into subjection by means of magic; and she gave me, though I have no son, five thousand horses and seventy millions of gold pieces: and all that wealth is at your disposal." After telling him this, his uncle brought him his beloved, and he, having obtained wealth, married her on the spot. And then he remained there in joy, united with that beloved Mrigánkavatí as a bed of white lotuses [141] with the night. But even when his happiness was at its full, anxiety for Báhusálin and his companions clouded his heart, as a spot of darkness does the full moon. Now one day his uncle said secretly to Srídatta: "my son, the king Súrasena has a maiden daughter, and in accordance with his orders I have to take her to the land of Avanti to give her away in marriage; so I will take her away on that very pretext, and marry her to you. Then, when you have got possession of the force that follows her, with mine already at your disposal, you will soon gain the kingdom that was promised you by the goddess Srí." Having resolved on this, and having taken that maiden, Srídatta and his uncle set out with their army and their attendants. But as soon as they had reached the Vindhya forest, before they were aware of the danger, a large army of brigands set upon them showering arrows. After routing Srídatta's force, and seizing all the wealth, they bound Srídatta himself, who had fainted from his wounds, and carried him off to their village. And they took him to the awful temple of Durgá, in order to offer him up in sacrifice, and, as it were, summoned Death with the sound of their gongs. There Sundarí saw him, one of his wives, the daughter of the chief of the village, who had come with her young son to visit the shrine of the goddess. Full of joy she ordered the brigands, who were between her and her husband, to stand aside, and then Srídatta entered her palace with her. Immediately Srídatta obtained the sovereignty of that village, which Sundarí's father, having no son, bequeathed to her when he went to heaven. So Srídatta recovered his wife and his sword Mrigánka, and also his uncle and his followers, who had been overpowered by the robbers. And, while he was in that town, he married the daughter of Súrasena, and became a great king there. And from that place he sent ambassadors to his two fathers-in-law, to Bimbaki, and king Súrasena. And they, being very fond of their daughters, gladly recognised him as a connection, and came to him accompanied by the whole of their armies. And his friends Báhusálin and the others, who had been separated from him, when they heard what had happened, came to him with their wounds healed and in good health. Then the hero marched, united with his fathers-in-law, and made that Vikramasakti, who had put his father to death, a burnt-offering in the flame of his wrath. And then Srídatta, having gained dominion over the sea-encircled earth, and deliverance from the sorrow of separation, joyed in the society of Mrigánkavatí. Even so, my king, do men of firm resolution cross the calamitous sea of separation and obtain prosperity.

After hearing this tale from Sangataka, the king Sahasráníka, though longing for the sight of his beloved one, managed to get through that night on the journey. Then, engrossed with his desire, sending his thoughts on before, in the morning Sahasráníka set out to meet his darling. And in a few days he reached that peaceful hermitage of Jamadagni, in which even the deer laid aside their wantonness. And there he beheld with reverence that Jamadagni, the sight of whom was sanctifying, like the incarnate form of penance, who received him hospitably. And the hermit handed over to him that queen Mrigávatí with her son, regained by the king after long separation, like tranquillity accompanied with joy. And that sight which the husband and wife obtained of one another, now that the curse had ceased, rained, as it were, nectar into their eyes, which were filled with tears of joy. And the king embracing that son Udayana, whom he now beheld for the first time, could with difficulty let him go, as he was, so to speak, riveted to his body with his own hairs that stood erect from joy. [142] Then king Sahasráníka took his queen Mrigávatí with Udayana, and, bidding adieu to Jamadagni, set out from that tranquil hermitage for his own city, and even the deer followed him as far as the border of the hermitage with tearful eyes. Beguiling the way by listening to the adventures of his beloved wife during the period of separation, and by relating his own, he at length reached the city of Kausámbí, in which triumphal arches were erected and banners displayed. And he entered that city in company with his wife and child, being, so to speak, devoured [143] by the eyes of the citizens, that had the fringe of their lashes elevated. And immediately the king appointed his son Udayana crown-prince, being incited to it by his excellent qualities. And he assigned to him as advisers the sons of his own ministers, Vasantaka and Rumanvat and Yaugandharáyana. Then a rain of flowers fell, and a celestial voice was heard--"By the help of these excellent ministers, the prince shall obtain dominion over the whole earth." Then the king devolved on his son the cares of empire, and enjoyed in the society of Mrigávatí the long-desired pleasures of the world. At last the desire of earthly enjoyment, beholding suddenly that old age, the harbinger of composure had reached the root of the king's ear, [144] became enraged and fled far from him. Then that king Sahasráníka established in his throne his excellent son Udayana, [145] whom the subjects loved so well, to ensure the world's prosperity, and accompanied by his ministers, and his beloved wife, ascended the Himálaya to prepare for the last great journey.

Chapter XI

Then Udayana took the kingdom of Vatsa, which his father had bequeathed to him, and, establishing himself in Kausámbí, ruled his subjects well. But gradually he began to devolve the cares of empire upon his ministers, Yaugandharáyana and others, and gave himself up entirely to pleasures. He was continually engaged in the chase, and day and night he played on the melodious lute which Vásuki [146] gave him long ago; and he subdued evermore infuriated wild elephants, overpowered by the fascinating spell of its strings' dulcet sound, and, taming them, brought them home. That king of Vatsa drank wine adorned by the reflection of the moon-faces of fair women, and at the same time robbed his minister's faces of their cheerful hue. [147] Only one anxiety had he to bear, he kept thinking, "Nowhere is a wife found equal to me in birth and personal appearance, the maiden named Vásavadattá alone has a liking for me, but how is she to be obtained?" Chandamahásena also in Ujjayiní thought; "There is no suitable husband to be found for my daughter in the world, except one Udayana by name, and he has ever been my enemy. Then how can I make him my son-in-law and my submissive ally? There is only one device which can effect it. He wanders about alone in the forest capturing elephants, for he is a king addicted to the vice of hunting; I will make use of this failing of his to entrap him and bring him here by a stratagem: and, as he is acquainted with music, I will make this daughter of mine his pupil, and then his eye will without doubt be charmed with her, and he will certainly became my son-in-law, and my obedient ally. No other artifice seems applicable in this case for making him submissive to my will." Having thus reflected, he went to the temple of Durgá, in order that his scheme might be blessed with success, and, after worship and praise, offered a prayer to the goddess. And there he heard a bodiless voice saying, "This desire of thine, O king, shall shortly be accomplished." Then he returned satisfied, and deliberated over that very matter with the minister Buddhadatta [148] saying--"That prince is elated with pride, he is free from avarice, his subjects are attached to him, and he is of great power, therefore he cannot be reached by any of the four usual expedients beginning with negotiation, nevertheless let negotiation be tried first." [149] Having thus deliberated, the king gave this order to an ambassador, "Go and give the king of Vatsa this message from me; 'My daughter desires to be thy pupil in music, if thou love us, come here and teach her.'" When sent off by the king with this message, the ambassador went and repeated it to the king of Vatsa in Kausámbí exactly as it was delivered; and the king of Vatsa, after hearing this uncourteous message from the ambassador, repeated it in private to the minister Yaugandharáyana, saying "Why did that monarch send me that insolent message? What can be the villain's object in making such a proposal?" When the king asked him this question, the great minister Yaugandharáyana, who was stern to his master for his good, thus answered him; "Your reputation for vice [150] has shot up in the earth like a creeper, and this, O king, is its biting bitter fruit. For that king Chandamahásena, thinking that you are the slave of your passions, intends to ensnare you by means of his beautiful daughter, throw you into prison, and so make you his unresisting instrument. Therefore abandon kingly vices, for kings that fall into them are easily captured by their enemies, even as elephants are taken in pits." When his minister had said this to him, the resolute king of Vatsa sent in return an ambassador to Chandamahásena with the following reply, "If thy daughter desires to become my pupil, then send her here." When he had sent this reply, that king of Vatsa said to his ministers--"I will march and bring Chandamahásena here in chains." When he heard that, the head minister Yaugandharáyana said--"That is not a fitting thing to do, my king, nor is it in thy power to do it. For Chandamahásena is a mighty monarch, and not to be subdued by thee. And in proof of this, hear his whole history, which I now proceed to relate to thee."

Story of king Chandamahásena.

There is in this land a city named Ujjayiní, the ornament of the earth, that, so to speak, laughs to scorn with its palaces of enamelled whiteness [151] Amarávatí, the city of the gods. In that city dwells Siva himself, the lord of existence, under the form of Mahákála, [152] when he desists from the kingly vice of absenting himself on the heights of mount Kailása. In that city lived a king named Mahendravarman, best of monarchs, and he had a son like himself, named Jayasena. Then to that Jayasena was born a son named Mahásena, matchless in strength of arm, an elephant among monarchs. And that king, while cherishing his realm, reflected, "I have not a sword worthy of me, [153] nor a wife of good family." Thus reflecting that monarch went to the temple of Durgá, and there he remained without food, propitiating for a long time the goddess. Then he cut off pieces of his own flesh, and offered a burnt-offering with them, whereupon the goddess Durgá being pleased appeared in visible shape and said to him, "I am pleased with thee, receive from me this excellent sword, by means of its magic power thou shalt be invincible to all thy enemies. Moreover thou shalt soon obtain as a wife Angáravatí, the daughter of the Asura Angáraka, the most beautiful maiden in the three worlds. And since thou didst here perform this very cruel penance, therefore thy name shall be Chandamahásena." Having said this and given him the sword, the goddess disappeared. But in the king there appeared joy at the fulfilment of his desire. He now possessed, O king, two jewels, his sword and a furious elephant named Nadágiri, which were to him what the thunderbolt and Airávana are to Indra. Then that king, delighting in the power of these two, one day went to a great forest to hunt; and there he beheld an enormous and terrible wild boar; like the darkness of the night suddenly condensed into a solid mass in the day time. That boar was not wounded by the king's arrows, in spite of their sharpness, but after breaking the king's chariot [154] fled and entered a cavern. The king, leaving that car of his, in revengeful pursuit of the boar, entered into that cavern with only his bow to aid him. And after he had gone a long distance, he beheld a great and splendid capital, and astonished he sat down inside the city on the bank of a lake. While there, he beheld a maiden moving along, surrounded by hundreds of women, like the arrow of love that cleaves the armour of self-restraint. She slowly approached the king, bathing him, so to speak, again and again in a look, that rained in showers the nectar of love. [155] She said, "who art thou, illustrious sir, and for what reason hast thou entered our home on this occasion?" The king, being thus questioned by her, told her the whole truth; hearing which, she let fall from her eyes a passionate flood of tears, and from her heart all self-control. The king said, "Who art thou, and why dost thou weep?" When he asked her this question, she, being a prisoner to love at his will, answered him, "The boar that entered here is the Daitya Angáraka by name. And I am his daughter, O king, and my name is Angáravatí. And he is of adamantine frame, and has carried off these hundred princesses from the palaces of kings and appointed them to attend on me. Moreover this great Asura has become a Rákshasa owing to a curse, but to-day as he was exhausted with thirst and fatigue, even when he found you, he spared you. At present he has put off the form of a boar and is resting in his own proper shape, but when he wakes up from his sleep, he will without fail do you an injury. It is for this reason that I see no hope of a happy issue for you, and so these tear-drops fall from my eyes like my vital spirits boiled with the fire of grief." When he heard this speech of Angáravatí's the king said to her,--"If you love me, do this which I ask you. When your father awakes, go and weep in front of him, and then he will certainly ask you the cause of your agitation; then you must say--If some one were to slay thee, what would become of me? [156] This is the cause of my grief. If you do this, there will be a happy issue both for you and me." When the king said this to her, she promised him that she would do what he wished. And that Asura maiden, apprehending misfortune, placed the king in concealment, and went near her sleeping father. Then the Daitya woke up, and she began to weep. And then he said to her, "Why do you weep, my daughter?" She with affected grief said to him, "If some one were to slay thee, what would become of me?" Then he burst out laughing and said;--"Who could possibly slay me, my daughter, for I am cased in adamant all over, only in my left hand is there an unguarded place, but that is protected by the bow." In these words the Daitya consoled his daughter, and all this was heard by the king in his concealment. Immediately afterwards the Dánava rose up and took his bath, and proceeded in devout silence to worship the god Siva; at that moment the king appeared with his bow bent, and rushing up impetuously towards the Daitya, challenged him to fight. He, without interrupting his devout silence, lifted his left hand towards the king and made a sign that he must wait for a moment. The king for his part, being very quick of hand, immediately smote him with an arrow in that hand which was his vital part. And that great Asura Angáraka, being pierced in a vital spot, immediately uttered a terrible cry and fell on the ground, and exclaimed, as his life departed,--"If that man, who has slain me when thirsty, does not offer water to my manes every year, then his five ministers shall perish." After he had said this, that Daitya died, and the king, taking his daughter Angáravatí as a prize, returned to Ujjayiní. There the king Chandamahásena married that Daitya maiden, and two sons were born to him, the first named Gopálaka, and the second Pálaka; and when they were born, he held a feast in honour of Indra on their account. Then Indra, being pleased, said to that king in a dream, "By my favour thou shalt obtain a matchless daughter." Then in course of time a graceful daughter was born to that king, like a second and more wonderful shape of the moon made by the Creator. And on that occasion a voice was heard from heaven;--"She shall give birth to a son, who shall be a very incarnation of the god of love, and king of the Vidyádharas." Then the king gave that daughter the name of Vásavadattá, because she was given by Indra being pleased with him. And that maiden still remains unmarried in the house of her father, like the goddess of prosperity in the hollow cavity of the ocean before it was churned. That king Chandamahásena cannot indeed be conquered by you, O king, in the first place because he is so powerful, and in the next place because his realm is situated in a difficult country. Moreover he is ever longing to give you that daughter of his in marriage, but being a proud monarch, he desires the triumph of himself and his adherents. But, I think, you must certainly marry that Vásavadattá. When he heard this, that king of Vatsa immediately lost his heart to Vásavadattá.