Chapter CXI…

Chapter CXI

May Ganesa protect you, the ornamental streaks of vermilion on whose cheeks fly up in the dance, and look like the fiery might of obstacles swallowed and disgorged by him.

While Naraváhanadatta was thus living on that Rishabha mountain with his wives and his ministers, and was enjoying the splendid fortune of emperor over the kings of the Vidyádharas, which he had obtained, once on a time spring came to increase his happiness. After long intermission the light of the moon was beautifully clear, and the earth, enfolded by the young fresh grass, shewed its joy by sweating dewy drops, and the forest trees, closely embraced again and again by the winds of the Malaya mountain, were all trembling, bristling with thorns, and full of sap. [600] The warder of Cupid, the cuckoo, beholding the stalk of the mango-tree, with his note seemed to forbid the pride of coy damsels; and rows of bees fell with a loud hum from the flowery creepers, like showers of arrows shot from the bow of the great warrior Eros. And Naraváhanadatta's ministers, Gomukha and the others, beholding at that time this activity of Spring, said to Naraváhanadatta; "See, king, this mountain of Rishabha is altogether changed, and is now a mountain of flowers, since the dense lines of forest with which it is covered, have their blossoms full-blown with spring. Behold, king, the creepers, which, with their flowers striking against one another, seem to be playing the castanets; and with the humming of their bees, to be singing, as they are swayed to and fro by the wind; while the pollen, that covers them, makes them appear to be crowned with garlands; and the garden made ready by spring, in which they are, is like the Court of Cupid. Look at this mango shoot with its garland of bees; it looks like the bow of the god of love with loosened string, as he reposes after conquering the world. So come, let us go and enjoy this festival of spring on the bank of the river Mandákiní where the gardens are so splendid."

When Naraváhanadatta had been thus exhorted by his ministers, he went with the ladies of his harem to the bank of the Mandákiní. And there he diverted himself in a garden resounding with the song of many birds, adorned with cardamom-trees, clove-trees, vakulas, asokas, and mandáras. And he sat down on a broad slab of moonstone, placing queen Madanamanchuká at his left hand, accompanied by the rest of his harem, and attended by various princes of the Vidyádharas, of whom Chandasinha and Amitagati were the chief; and while drinking wine and talking on various subjects, the sovereign, having observed the beauty of the season, said to his ministers, "The southern breeze is gentle and soft to the feel; the horizon is clear; the gardens in every corner are full of flowers and fragrant; sweet are the strains of the cuckoo, and the joys of the banquet of wine; what pleasure is wanting in the spring? Still, separation from one's beloved is during that season hard to bear. Even animals [601] find separation from their mates in the spring a severe affliction. For instance, behold this hen-cuckoo here distressed with separation! For she has been long searching for her beloved, that has disappeared from her gaze, with plaintive cries, and not being able to find him, she is now cowering on a mango, mute and like one dead."

When the king had said this, his minister Gomukha said to him, "It is true, all creatures find separation hard to bear at this time; and now listen, king; I will tell you in illustration of this something that happened in Srávastí."

Story of the devoted couple, Súrasena and Sushená. [602]

In that town there dwelt a Rájpút, who was in the service of the monarch, and lived on the proceeds of a village. His name was Súrasena, and he had a wife named Sushená, who was a native of Málava. She was in every respect well suited to him, and he loved her more than life. One day the king summoned him, and he was about to set out for his camp, when his loving wife said to him, "My husband, you ought not to go off and leave me alone; for I shall not be able to exist here for a moment without you." When Súrasena's wife said this to him, he replied, "How can I help going, when the king summons me? Do you not understand my position, fair one? You see, I am a Rájpút, and a servant, dependent on another for my subsistence." When his wife heard this, she said to him with tears in her eyes, "If you must of necessity go, I shall manage to endure it somehow, if you return not one day later than the commencement of spring." Having heard this, he at last said to her, "Agreed, my dear! I will return on the first day of the month Chaitra, even if I have to leave my duty."

When he said this, his wife was at last induced to let him go; and so Súrasena went to attend on the king in his camp. And his wife remained at home, counting the days in eager expectation, looking for the joyful day on which spring begins, on which her husband was to return. At last, in the course of time, that day of the spring-festival arrived, resonant with the songs of cuckoos, that seemed like spells to summon the god of love. The humming of bees drunk with the fragrance of flowers, fell on the ear, like the twanging of Cupid's bow as he strung it.

On that day Súrasena's wife Sushená said to herself, "Here is that spring-festival arrived; my beloved will, without fail, return to-day. So she bathed, and adorned herself, and worshipped the god of Love, and remained eagerly awaiting his arrival. But the day came to an end and her husband did not return, and during the course of that night she was grievously afflicted by despondency, and said to herself, "The hour of my death has come, but my husband has not returned; for those whose souls are exclusively devoted to the service of another do not care for their own families." While she was making these reflections, with her heart fixed upon her husband, her breath left her body, as if consumed by the forest-fire of love.

In the meanwhile Súrasena, eager to behold his wife, and true to the appointed day, got himself, though with great difficulty, relieved from attendance on the king, and mounting a swift camel, accomplished a long journey, and arriving in the last watch of the night, reached his own house. There he beheld that wife of his lying dead, with all her ornaments on her, looking like a creeper, with its flowers full blown, rooted up by the wind. When he saw her, he was beside himself, and he took her up in his arms, and the bereaved husband's life immediately left his body in an outburst of lamentation.

But when their family goddess Chandí, the bestower of boons, saw that that couple had met their death in this way, she restored them to life out of compassion. And after breath had returned to them, having each had a proof of the other's affection, they continued inseparable for the rest of their lives.

"Thus, in the season of spring, the fire of separation, fanned by the wind from the Malaya mountain, is intolerable to all creatures." When Gomukha had told this tale, Naraváhanadatta, thinking over it, suddenly became despondent. The fact is, in magnanimous men, the spirits, by being elevated or depressed, indicate beforehand the approach of good or evil fortune. [603]

Then the day came to an end, and the sovereign performed his evening worship, and went to his bedroom, and got into bed, and reposed there. But in a dream at the end of the night [604] he saw his father being dragged away by a black female towards the southern quarter. The moment he had seen this, he woke up, and suspecting that some calamity might have befallen his father, he thought upon the science named Prajnapti, who thereupon presented herself, and he addressed this question to her, "Tell me, how has my father the king of Vatsa been going on? For I am alarmed about him on account of a sight which I saw in an evil dream." When he said this to the science that had manifested herself in bodily form, she said to him, "Hear what has happened to your father the king of Vatsa.

"When he was in Kausámbí, he suddenly heard from a messenger, who had come from Ujjayiní, that king Chandamahásena was dead, and the same person told him that his wife the queen Angáravatí had burnt herself with his corpse. This so shocked him, that he fell senseless upon the ground: and when he recovered consciousness, he wept for a long time, with queen Vásavadattá and his courtiers, for his father-in-law and mother-in-law who had gone to heaven. But his ministers roused him by saying to him, 'In this transient world what is there that hath permanence? Moreover you ought not to weep for that king, who has you for a son-in-law, and Gopálaka for a son, and whose daughter's son is Naraváhanadatta.' When he had been thus admonished and roused from his prostration, he gave the offering of water to his father-in-law and mother-in-law.

"Then that king of Vatsa said, with throat half-choked with tears, to his afflicted brother-in-law Gopálaka, who remained at his side out of affection, [605] 'Rise up, go to Ujjayiní, and take care of your father's kingdom, for I have heard from a messenger that the people are expecting you.' When Gopálaka heard this, he said, weeping, to the king of Vatsa, 'I cannot bear to leave you and my sister, to go to Ujjayiní. Moreover, I cannot bring myself to endure the sight of my native city, now that my father is not in it. So let Pálaka, my younger brother, be king there with my full consent.' When Gopálaka had by these words shown his unwillingness to accept the kingdom, the king of Vatsa sent his commander-in-chief Rumanvat to the city of Ujjayiní, and had his younger brother-in-law, named Pálaka, crowned king of it, with his elder brother's consent.

"And reflecting on the instability of all things, he became disgusted with the objects of sense, and said to Yangandharáyana and his other ministers, 'In this unreal cycle of mundane existence all objects are at the end insipid; and I have ruled my realm, I have enjoyed pleasures, I have conquered my enemies; I have seen my son in the possession of paramount sway over the Vidyádharas; and now my allotted time has passed away together with my connections; and old age has seized me by the hair to hand me over to death; and wrinkles have invaded my body, as the strong invade the kingdom of a weakling; [606] so I will go to mount Kálinjara, and abandoning this perishable body, will there obtain the imperishable mansion of which they speak.' When the ministers had been thus addressed by the king, they thought over the matter; and then they all and queen Vásavadattá said to him with calm equanimity, 'Let it be, king, as it has pleased your highness; by your favour we also will try to obtain a high position in the next world.'

"When they had said this to the king, being like-minded with himself, he formed a deliberate resolution, and said to his elder brother-in-law Gopálaka, who was present, 'I look upon you and Naraváhanadatta as equally my sons; so take care of this Kausámbí, I give you my kingdom.' When the king of Vatsa said this to Gopálaka, he replied, 'My destination is the same as yours, I cannot bear to leave you.' This he asserted in a persistent manner, being ardently attached to his sister; whereupon the king of Vatsa said to him, assuming [607] an anger, that he did not feel, 'To-day you have become disobedient, so as to affect a hypocritical conformity to my will; and no wonder, for who cares for the command of one who is falling from his place of power.' When the king spoke thus roughly to him, Gopálaka wept, with face fixed on the ground, and though he had determined to go to the forest, he turned back for a moment from his intention.

"Then the king mounted an elephant, and accompanied by the queens Vásavadattá and Padmávatí, set out with his ministers. And when he left Kausámbí, the citizens followed him, with their wives, children, and aged sires, crying aloud and raining a tempest of tears. The king comforted them by saying to them, 'Gopálaka will take care of you,' and so at last he induced them to return, and passed on to mount Kálinjara. And he reached it, and went up it, and worshipped Siva, and holding in his hand his lyre Ghoshavatí, that he had loved all his life, and accompanied by his queens that were ever at his side, and Yangandharáyana and his other ministers, he hurled himself from the cliff. And even as they fell, a fiery chariot came and caught up the king and his companions, and they went in a blaze of glory to heaven."

When Naraváhanadatta heard this from the science, he exclaimed, "Alas! my father!" and fell senseless on the ground. And when he recovered consciousness, he bewailed his father and mother and his father's ministers, in company with his own ministers, who had lost their fathers.

But the chiefs of the Vidyádharas and Dhanavatí admonished him, saying, "How is it, king, that you are beside yourself, though you know the nature of this versatile world that perishes in a moment, and is like the show of a juggler? And how can you lament for your parents that are not to be lamented for, as they have done all they had to do on earth; who have seen you their son sole emperor over all the Vidyádharas?" When he had been thus admonished, he offered water to his parents, and put another question to that science, "Where is my uncle Gopálaka now? What did he do?" Then that science went on to say to the king,

"When the king of Vatsa had gone to the mountain from which he meant to throw himself, Gopálaka, having lamented for him and his sister, and considering all things unstable, remained outside the city, and summoning his brother Pálaka from Ujjayiní, made over to him that kingdom of Kausámbí also. And then, having seen his younger brother established in two kingdoms, he went to the hermitage of Kasyapa in the ascetic-grove on the Black Mountain, [608] bent on abandoning the world. And there your uncle Gopálaka now is, clothed with a dress of bark, in the midst of self-mortifying hermits."

When Naraváhanadatta heard that, he went in a chariot to the Black Mountain, with his suite, eager to visit that uncle. There he alighted from the sky, surrounded by Vidyádhara princes, and beheld that hermitage of the hermit Kasyapa. It seemed to gaze on him with many roaming black antelope like rolling eyes, and to welcome him with the songs of its birds. With the lines of smoke ascending into the sky, where pious men were offering the Agnihotra oblations, it seemed to point the way to heaven to the hermits. It was full of many mountain-like huge elephants, and resorted to by troops of monkeys [609]; and so seemed like a strange sort of Pátála, above ground, and free from darkness.

In the midst of that grove of ascetics, he beheld his uncle surrounded by hermits, with long matted locks, clothed in the bark of a tree, looking like an incarnation of patience. And Gopálaka, when he saw his sister's son approach, rose up and embraced him, and pressed him to his bosom with tearful eyes. Then they, both of them, lamented their lost dear ones with renewed grief; whom will not the fire of grief torture, when fanned by the blast of a meeting with relations? When even the animals there were pained to see their grief, Kasyapa and the other hermits came up and consoled those two. Then that day came to an end, and next morning the emperor entreated Gopálaka to come and dwell in his kingdom. But Gopálaka said to him, "What, my child, do you not suppose that I have all the happiness I desire by thus seeing you? If you love me, remain here in this hermitage, during this rainy season, which has arrived."

When Naraváhanadatta had been thus entreated by his uncle, he remained in the hermitage of Kasyapa on the Black Mountain, with his attendants, for the term mentioned.

Chapter CXII

Now, one day, when Naraváhanadatta was in the hall of audience on the Black Mountain, his Commander-in-chief came before him, and said, "Last night, my sovereign, when I was on the top of my house, looking after my troops, I saw a woman being carried off through the air by a heavenly being, crying out, 'Alas! my husband!' and it seemed as if the moon, which is powerful at that season, had taken her and carried her off, finding that she robbed it of all its beauty. I exclaimed, 'Ah villain! where will you go, thus carrying off the wife of another? In the kingdom of king Naraváhanadatta the protector, which is the territory of the Vidyádharas, extending over sixty thousand yojanas, even animals do not work wickedness, much less other creatures.' When I had said this, I hastened with my attendants and arrested that swift-footed [610] one, and brought him down from the air with the lady: and when we looked at him, after bringing him down, we found that it was your brother-in-law, the Vidyádhara Ityaka, the brother of your principal queen, born to Madanavega by queen Kalingasená. We said to him, 'Who is this lady, and where are you taking her?' and then he answered; 'This is Suratamanjarí the daughter of the Vidyádhara chief Matangadeva by Chútamanjarí. Her mother promised her to me long ago; and then her father bestowed her on another, a mere man. So, if I have to-day recovered my own wife, and carried her off, what harm have I done?' When Ityaka had said so much, he was silent.

"Then I said to Suratamanjarí, 'Lady, by whom were you married, and how did this person get possession of you?' Then she said, 'There is in Ujjayiní a fortunate king named Pálaka, he has a son, a prince named [611] Avantivardhana; by him I was married; and this night, when I was asleep on the top of the palace, and my husband was asleep also, I was carried off by this villain.' When she said this, I kept both of them here, the lady and Ityaka, the latter in fetters; it now remains for your majesty to decide what is to be done."

When the emperor heard this from his Commander-in-chief Harisikha, he went in some perplexity to Gopálaka, and told him the story. Gopálaka said, "My dear nephew, I do not know about this; I know so much, that the lady was lately married to Pálaka's son; so let the prince be summoned from Ujjayiní, together with the minister Bharataroha; then we shall get at the truth." When the emperor received this advice from his uncle, he sent the Vidyádhara Dhúmasikha to Pálaka his younger uncle, and summoned from Ujjayiní that prince, his son, and the minister. When they arrived and bowed before the emperor, he and Gopálaka received them with love and courtesy, and questioned them about the matter under consideration.

Then, in the presence of Avantivardhana, who looked like the moon robbed of the night, [612] of Suratamanjarí, her father, and of Ityaka, of Váyupatha and his peers, and the hermit Kasyapa, and the men-at-arms, Bharataroha began to speak as follows, "Once on a time all the citizens of Ujjayiní met together and said to Pálaka the king of that city 'To-morrow the festival, called the giving of water, will take place in this city, and if your majesty has not heard the true account of the origin of this festival, please listen to it now.'"

Story of king Chandamahásena and the Asura's daughter. [613]

Long ago your father Chandamahásena propitiated the goddess Chandí with asceticism, in order to obtain a splendid sword and a wife. She gave him her own sword, and about a wife said to him, "Thou shalt soon slay, my son, the Asura called Angáraka, and obtain his beautiful daughter Angáravatí for a wife." When the king had been favoured with this revelation from the goddess, he remained thinking on the Asura's daughter.

Now, at this time, everybody that was appointed head police officer in Ujjayiní, was at once carried off by some creature at night and devoured. And this went on night after night. Then Chandamahásena roaming leisurely about the city at night, to investigate the matter for himself, found an adulterer. He cut off with his sword his oiled and curled head, and no sooner was his neck severed than a certain Rákshasa came and laid hold of him. The king exclaimed, "This is the gentleman that comes and eats the heads of the police at night," and laying hold of that Rákshasa by the hair, he prepared to slay him.

Then the Rákshasa said "King, do not slay me under a false impression! There is another creature in this neighbourhood that eats the heads of the police." The king said, "Tell me! who is it?" and the Rákshasa continued, "There is in this neighbourhood an Asura of the name of Angáraka, whose home is in Pátála. He it is that eats your police-officers at the dead of night, O smiter of your foes. Moreover, prince, he carries off by force the daughters of kings from every quarter, and makes them attend on his daughter Angáravatí. If you see him roaming about in the forest, slay him, and attain your object in that way."

When the Rákshasa had said this, the king let him go, and returned to his palace. And one day he went out to hunt. And in the place where he was hunting he saw a monstrous boar, with eyes red with fury, looking like a piece of the mountain of Antimony fallen from heaven. The king said to himself, "Such a creature cannot be a real boar, I wonder whether it is the Asura Angáraka that has the power of disguising himself:" so he smote the boar with shafts. But the boar recked not of his shafts, and overturning his chariot, entered a wide opening in the earth.

But the heroic king entered after him, and did not see that boar, but saw in front of him a splendid castle. And he sat down on the bank of a lake, and saw there a maiden with a hundred others attending on her, looking like an incarnation of Rati. She came up to him and asked him the reason of his coming there, and having conceived an affection for him, said to him, looking at him with tearful eyes; "Alas! What a place have you entered! That boar that you saw, was really a Daitya, Angáraka by name, of adamantine frame and vast strength. At present he has abandoned the form of a boar and is sleeping, as he is tired, but when the time for taking food comes, he will wake up and do you a mischief. And I, fair sir, am his daughter, Angáravatí by name; and fearing that some misfortune may befall you, I feel as if my life were in my throat."

When she said this to the king, he, remembering the boon that the goddess Chandí had given him, felt that he had now a good hope of accomplishing his object, and answered her, "If you have any love for me, do this which I tell you: when your father awakes, go and weep at his side, and when he asks you the reason, say, fair one, 'Father, if any one were to kill you in your reckless daring, what would become of me?' If you do this, you will ensure the happiness of both of us."

When the king said this to her, she went, bewildered with love, and sat down and wept at the side of her father who had woke up; and when he asked her the cause of her weeping, she told him how she was afraid that some one would slay him. [614] Then the Daitya said to her, "Why, who can slay me who am of adamantine frame? the only vulnerable and vital point I have is in my left hand, and that the bow protects." This speech of his was heard by the king, who was at the time concealed near.

Then the Daitya bathed and proceeded to worship Siva. At that moment the king appeared with his bow strung, and challenged to mortal combat the Daitya, who was observing religious silence. The Daitya lifted up his left hand, his right hand being engaged, and made a sign to the king to wait a little. That very moment the king smote him in that hand, which was his vital point, with a well-aimed arrow, and the Daitya fell on the earth. And just before he expired, he said, "If that man who has thus slain me when thirsty, does not every year offer water to my manes, his five ministers shall perish." The Daitya being thus slain, the king took his daughter Angáravatí, and returned to this city of Ujjayiní.

"And after that king, your father, had married that queen, he used every year to have an offering of water made to the manes of Angáraka; and all here celebrate the feast called the giving of water; and to-day it has come round; so do, king, what your father did before you."

Story of prince Avantivardhana and the daughter of the Mátanga who turned out to be a Vidyádharí.

"When king Pálaka heard this speech of his subjects', he proceeded to set going in that city the festival of the giving of water. When the festival had begun, and the people had their attention occupied by it, and were engaged in shouting, suddenly an infuriated elephant, that had broken its fastenings, rushed in among them. That elephant, having got the better of its driving-hook, and shaken off its driver, roamed about in the city, and killed very many men in a short time. Though the elephant-keepers ran forward, accompanied by professional elephant-drivers, and the citizens also, no man among them was able to control that elephant. At last, in the course of its wanderings, the elephant reached the quarter of the Chandálas, and there came out from it a Chandála maiden. She illuminated the ground with the beauty of the lotus that seemed to cling to her feet, delighted because she surpassed with the loveliness of her face the moon its enemy. [615] She looked like the night that gives rest to the eyes of the world, because its attention is diverted from other objects, and so it remains motionless at that time. [616]

That maiden struck that mighty elephant, that came towards her, with her hand, on its trunk; and smote it with those sidelong looks askance of hers. The elephant was fascinated with the touch of her hand and penetrated with her glance, and remained with head bent down, gazing at her, and never moved a step. [617] Then that fair lady made a swing with her upper garment, which she fastened to its tusks, and climbed up and got into it, and amused herself with swinging. Then the elephant, seeing that she felt the heat, went into the shade of a tree; and the citizens, who were present, seeing this great wonder, exclaimed, "Ah! This is some glorious heavenly maiden, who charms even animals by her power, which is as transcendent as her beauty."

And in the meanwhile the prince Avantivardhana, hearing of it, came out to see the wonderful sight, and beheld that maiden. As he gazed, the deer of his heart ran into that net of the hunter Love, and was entangled by it. She too, when she saw him, her heart being charmed by his beauty, came down from that swing, which she had put up on the elephant's tusks, and took her upper garment. Then a driver mounted the elephant, and she went home, looking at the prince with an expression of shame and affection.

And Avantivardhana, for his part, the disturbance caused by the elephant having come to an end, went home to his palace with his bosom empty, his heart having been stolen from it by her. And when he got home, he was tortured by no longer seeing that lovely maiden, and forgetting the feast of the giving of water, which had begun, he said to his companions, "Do you know whose daughter that maiden is, and what her name is?" When his friends heard that, they said to him, "There is a certain Mátanga [618] in the quarter of the Chandálas, named Utpalahasta, and she is his daughter, Suratamanjarí by name. Her lovely form can give pleasure to the good [619] only by being looked at, like that of a pictured beauty, but cannot be touched without pollution." When the prince heard that from his friends, he said to them, "I do not think she can be the daughter of a Mátanga, she is certainly some heavenly maiden; for a Chandála maiden would never possess such a beautiful form. Lovely as she is, if she does not become my wife, what is the profit of my life?" So the prince continued to say, and his ministers could not check him, but he was exceedingly afflicted with the fire of separation from her.

Then queen Avantivatí and king Pálaka, his parents, having heard that, were for a long time quite bewildered. The queen said, "How comes it that our son, though born in a royal family, has fallen in love with a girl of the lowest [620] caste?" Then king Pálaka said, "Since the heart of our son is thus inclined, it is clear that she is really a girl of another caste, who for some reason or other has fallen among the Mátangas. The minds of the good tell them by inclination or aversion what to do and what to avoid. In illustration of this, queen, listen to the following tale, if you have not already heard it."

Story of the young Chandála who married the daughter of king Prasenajit. [621]

Long ago king Prasenajit, in a city named Supratishthita, had a very beautiful daughter named Kurangí. One day she went out into the garden, and an elephant, that had broken from its fastenings, charged her, and flung her up on his tusks litter and all. Her attendants dispersed shrieking, but a young Chandála snatched up a sword and ran towards the elephant. The brave fellow cut off the trunk of that great elephant with a sword-stroke, and killed it, and so delivered the princess. Then her retinue came together again, and she returned to her palace with her heart captivated by the great courage and striking good looks of the young Chandála. And she remained in a state of despondency at being separated from him, saying to herself, "Either I must have that man who delivered me from the elephant for a husband, or I must die."

The young Chandála, for his part, went home slowly, and having his mind captivated by the princess, was tortured by thinking on her. He said to himself, "What a vast gulf is fixed between me, a man of the lowest caste, and that princess! How can a crow and a female swan ever unite? The idea is so ridiculous that I cannot mention it or consider it, so, in this difficulty, death is my only resource." After the young man had gone through these reflections, he went at night to the cemetery, and bathed, and made a pyre, and lighting the flame thus prayed to it, "O thou purifying fire, Soul of the Universe, may that princess be my wife hereafter in a future birth, in virtue of this offering up of myself as a sacrifice to thee!" When he had said this, he prepared to fling himself into the fire, but the Fire-god, pleased with him, appeared in visible shape before him, and said to him, "Do not act rashly, for she shall be thy wife, for thou art not a Chandála by birth, and what thou art I will tell thee, listen!

"There is in this city a distinguished Bráhman of the name of Kapilasarman; in his fire-chamber I dwell in visible bodily shape. One day his maiden daughter came near me, and smitten with her beauty, I made her my wife, inducing her to forego her objections by promising her immunity from disgrace. And thou, my son, wert immediately born to her by virtue of my power, and she thereupon, out of shame, flung thee away in the open street; there thou wast found by some Chandálas and reared on goat's milk. [622] So thou art my son, born to me by a Bráhman lady. Therefore thou canst not be deemed impure, as thou art my son; and thou shalt obtain that princess Kurangí for a wife."

When the god of fire had said this, he disappeared, and the Mátanga's adopted child was delighted, and conceived hope, and so went home. Then king Prasenajit, having been urged by the god in a dream, investigated the case, and finding out the truth, gave his daughter to the son of the Fire-god.

"Thus, queen, there are always to be found heavenly beings in disguise upon the earth, and you may be assured Suratamanjarí is not a woman of the lowest caste, but a celestial nymph. For such a pearl, as she is, must belong to some other race than that of the Mátangas, and without doubt she was the beloved of my son in a former birth, and this is proved by his falling in love with her at first sight." When king Pálaka said this in our presence, I proceeded to relate the following story about a man of the fisher-caste.

Story of the young fisher man who married a princess.

Long ago there lived in Rájagriha a king named Malayasinha, and he had a daughter named Máyávatí of matchless beauty. One day a young man of the fisher-caste, named Suprahára, who was in the bloom of youth and good looks, saw her as she was amusing herself in a spring-garden. The moment he saw her, he was overpowered by love; for destiny never considers whether a union is possible or impossible. So he went home, and abandoning his occupation of catching fish, he took to his bed, and refused to eat, thinking only on the princess. And when persistently questioned, he told his wish to his mother named Rakshitiká, and she said to her son, "My son, abandon your despondency, and take food; I will certainly compass this your end for you by my ingenuity."

When she said this to him, he was consoled, and cherished hopes, and took food; and his mother went to the palace of the princess with fish from the lake. [623] There that fisher-wife was announced by the maids, and went in, on the pretext of paying her respects, and gave the princess that present of fish. And in this way she came regularly day after day, and made the princess a present, and so gained her goodwill, and made her desirous of speaking. And the pleased princess said to the fisher-wife, "Tell me what you wish me to do; I will do it, though it be ever so difficult."

Then the fisher-wife begged that her boldness might be pardoned, and said in secret to the princess, "Royal lady, my son has seen you in a garden, and is tortured by the thought that he cannot be near you; and I can only manage to prevent his committing suicide by holding out hopes to him; so, if you feel any pity for me, restore my son to life by touching him." When the princess was thus entreated by the fisher-wife, hesitating between shame and a desire to oblige, after reflection, she said to her, "Bring your son to my palace secretly at night." When the fisher-wife heard this, she went in high spirits to her son.

And when night came, she deliberately adorned her son as well as she could, and brought him to the private apartments of the princess. There the princess took Suprahára, who had pined for her so long, by the hand, and affectionately welcomed him, and made him lie down on a sofa, and comforted him whose limbs were withered by the fire of separation, by shampooing him with her hand, the touch of which was cool as sandal-wood. And the fisher-boy was thereby, as it were, bedewed with nectar, and thinking that after long waiting he had attained his desire, he took his rest, and was suddenly seized by sleep. And when he was asleep, the princess escaped, and slept in another room, having thus pleased the fisher-boy, and having avoided being disgraced through him.

Then that son of the fisher-folk woke up, owing to the cessation of the touch of her hand, and not seeing his beloved, who had thus come within his grasp, and again vanished, like a pot of treasure in the case of a very poor man, who is despondent for its loss, he was reft of all hope, and his breath at once left his body. When the princess found that out, she came there, and blamed herself, and made up her mind to ascend the funeral pyre with him next morning.

Then her father, king Malayasinha, heard of it, and came there, and finding that she could not be turned from her resolve, he rinsed his mouth, and spake this speech; "If I am really devoted to the three-eyed god of gods, tell me, ye guardians of the world, what it is my duty to do." When the king said this, a heavenly voice answered him, "Thy daughter was in a former life the wife of this son of the fisher-folk.

"For, long ago, there lived in a village, called Nágasthala, a virtuous Bráhman of the name of Baladhara, the son of Mahídhara. When his father had gone to heaven, he was robbed of his wealth by his relations, and being disgusted with the world, he went with his wife to the bank of the Ganges. While he was remaining there without food, in order to abandon the body, he saw some fishermen eating fish, and his hunger made him long for it in his heart. So he died with his mind polluted by that desire, but his wife kept her aspirations pure, and continuing firm in penance, followed him in death. [624]

"That very Bráhman, owing to that pollution of his desires, has been born in the fisher-caste. But his wife, who remained firm in her asceticism, has been born as thy daughter, O king. So let this blameless daughter of thine, by the gift of half her life, [625] raise up this dead youth, who was her husband in a former life. For, owing to the might of her asceticism, this youth, who was thus purified by the splendour of that holy bathing-place, shall become thy son-in-law, and a king."

When the king had been thus addressed by the divine voice, he gave his daughter in marriage to that youth Suprahára, who recovered his life by the gift of half hers. And Suprahára became a king by means of the land, elephants, horses, and jewels, which his father-in-law gave him, and, having obtained his daughter as a wife, lived the life of a successful man.

Story of the Merchant's daughter who fell in love with a thief. [626]

"In this way a connexion in a former birth usually produces affection in embodied beings; moreover, in illustration of this truth, listen to the following story about a thief."

In Ayodhyá there lived of old time a king named Vírabáhu, who always protected his subjects as if they were his own children. And one day the citizens of his capital came to him and said, "King, some thieves plunder this city every night, and though we keep awake for the purpose, we cannot detect them." When the king heard that, he placed scouts in the city at night to keep watch. But they did not catch the thieves and the mischief did not abate. Accordingly the king went out himself at night to investigate the matter.

And as he was wandering about in every direction, alone, sword in hand, he saw a man going along on the top of the rampart; he seemed to tread lightly out of fear; his eyes rolled rapidly like those of a crow; and he looked round like a lion, frequently turning his neck. He was rendered visible by the steel-gleams that flashed from his naked sword, which seemed like binding ropes sent forth to steal those jewels which men call stars. [627] And the king said to himself; "I am quite certain that this man is a thief; no doubt he sallies out alone and plunders this my city."

Having come to this conclusion, the wily monarch went up to the thief; and the thief said to him with some trepidation, "Who are you, Sir?" Then the king said to him, "I am a desperate robber, whose many vices make him hard to keep; [628] tell me in turn, who you are." The thief answered, "I am a robber, that goes out to plunder alone; and I have great wealth; so come to my house: I will satisfy your longing for riches." When the thief made him this promise, the king said, "So be it," and went with him to his dwelling, which was in an underground excavation. It was inhabited by beautiful women, it gleamed with many jewels, it was full of ever new delights, and seemed like the city of the snakes. [629] Then the thief went into the inner chamber of his dwelling, and the king remained in the outer room; and while he was there, a female servant, compassionating him, came and said to him, "What kind of place have you entered? Leave it at once, for this man is a treacherous assassin, and as he goes on his expeditions alone, will be sure to murder you, to prevent his secrets being divulged." [630] When the king heard that, he went out at once, and quickly repaired to his palace; and summoning his commander-in-chief, returned with his troops. And he came and surrounded the thief's dwelling, and made the bravest men enter it, and so brought the thief back a prisoner, and carried off all his wealth.

When the night had come to an end, the king ordered his execution; and he was led off to the place of execution through the middle of the market. And as he was being led along through that part of the town, a merchant's daughter saw him, and fell in love with him at first sight, and she immediately said to her father, "Know that if this man, who is being led off to execution preceded by the drum of death, does not become my husband, I shall die myself."

Then her father, seeing that she could not be dissuaded from her resolution, went and tried to induce the king to spare that thief's life by offering ten millions of coins. But the king, instead of sparing the thief's life, ordered him to be immediately impaled, [631] and was very angry with the merchant. Then the merchant's daughter, whose name was Vámadattá, took the corpse of that robber, and out of love for him entered the fire with it.

"So, you see, creatures are completely dependent upon connexions in previous births, and this being the case, who can avoid a destiny that is fated to him, and who can prevent such a destiny's befalling anybody? Therefore, king, it is clear that this Suratamanjarí is some excellent being that was the wife of your son Avantivardhana in a previous birth, and is therefore destined to be his wife again; otherwise how could such a high-born prince have formed such an attachment for her, a woman of the Mátanga caste? So let this Mátanga, her father Utpalahasta, be asked to give the prince his daughter; and let us see what he says."

When I had said this to king Pálaka, he at once sent messengers to Utpalahasta to ask for his daughter. And the Mátanga, when entreated by those messengers to give her in marriage, answered them, "I approve of this alliance, but I must give my daughter Suratamanjarí to the man who makes eighteen thousand of the Bráhmans, that dwell in this city, eat in my house." When the messengers heard this speech of the Mátanga's, that contained a solemn promise, they went back and reported it faithfully to king Pálaka.

Thinking that there was some reason for this, [632] the king called together all the Bráhmans in the city of Ujjayiní, and telling them the whole story, said to them, "So you must eat here in the house of the Mátanga Utpalahasta, eighteen thousand of you; I will not have it otherwise." When the Bráhmans had been thus commanded by the king, being at the same time afraid of touching the food of a Chandála, and therefore at a loss what to do, they went to the shrine of Mahákála and performed self-torture. Then the god Siva, who was present there in the form of Mahákála, commanded those Bráhmans in a dream, saying, "Eat food here in the house of the Mátanga Utpalahasta, for he is a Vidyádhara; neither he nor his family are Chandálas." Then those Bráhmans rose up and went to the king, and told him the dream, and went on to say, "So let this Utpalahasta cook pure food for us in some place outside the quarter of the Chandálas, and then we will eat it at his hands." When the king heard this, he had another house made for Utpalahasta, and being highly delighted, he had food cooked for him there by pure cooks: and then eighteen thousand Bráhmans ate there, while Utpalahasta stood in front of them, bathed, and clothed in a pure garment.

And after they had eaten, Utpalahasta came to king Pálaka, in the presence of his subjects, and bowing before him, said to him, "There was an influential prince of the Vidyádharas, named Gaurímunda; I was a dependent of his, named Matangadeva; and when, king, that daughter of mine Suratamanjarí had been born, Gaurímunda secretly said to me, 'The gods assert that this son of the king of Vatsa, who is called Naraváhanadatta, is to be our emperor: so go quickly, and kill that foe of ours by means of your magic power, before be has attained the dignity of emperor.'

"When the wicked Gaurímunda had sent me on this errand, I went to execute it, and while going along through the air, I saw Siva in front of me. The god, being displeased, made an angry roar, and immediately pronounced on me this curse, 'How is it, villain, that thou dost plot evil against a noble-minded man? So go, wicked one, and fall with this same body of thine into the midst of the Chandálas in Ujjayiní, together with thy wife and daughter. And when some one shall make eighteen thousand of the Bráhmans, that dwell in that city, eat in thy house by way of a gift to purchase thy daughter; then thy curse shall come to an end, and thou must marry thy daughter to the man who bestows on thee that gift.'

"When Siva had said this, he disappeared, and I, that very Matangadeva, assuming the name of Utpalahasta, fell among men of the lowest caste, but I do not mix with them. However, my curse is now at an end, owing to the favour of your son, so I give him my daughter Suratamanjarí. And now I will go to my own dwelling-place among the Vidyádharas, in order to pay my respects to the emperor Naraváhanadatta." When Matangadeva had said this, he solemnly gave the prince his daughter, and flying up into the air with his wife, repaired, king, to thy feet.

"And king Pálaka, having thus ascertained the truth, celebrated with great delight the marriage of Suratamanjarí and his son. And his son Avantivardhana, having obtained that Vidyádharí for a wife, felt himself fortunate in having gained more than he had ever hoped for.

"Now, one day, that prince went to sleep on the top of the palace with her and at the end of the night he woke up, and suddenly discovered that his beloved was nowhere to be seen. He looked for her, but could not find her anywhere, and then he lamented, and was so much afflicted that his father the king came, and was exceedingly discomposed. We all, being assembled there at that time, said, 'This city is well-guarded, no stranger could enter it during the night; no doubt she must have been carried off by some evilly disposed wanderer of the air;' and even while we were saying that, your servant the Vidyádhara Dhúmasikha descended from the sky. He brought here this prince Avantivardhana, and king Pálaka also was asked to part with me, in order that I might state the facts of the case. Here too is Suratamanjarí with her father, and the facts concerning her are such as I have said: your Majesty is the best judge of what ought to be done now."

When Bharataroha the minister of Pálaka had told this tale, he stopped speaking; and the assessors put this question to Matangadeva in the presence of Naraváhanadatta, "Tell us, to whom did you give this daughter of yours Suratamanjarí?" He answered, "I gave her to Avantivardhana." Then they put this question to Ityaka, "Now do you tell us why you carried her off?" He answered, "Her mother promised her to me originally." The assessors said to Ityaka, "While the father is alive, what authority has the mother? Moreover, where is your witness to prove the fact of the mother having promised her to you? So she is with regard to you the wife of another, villain!" When Ityaka was thus put to silence by the assessors, the emperor Naraváhanadatta, being angry with him, ordered his immediate execution on the ground of his misconduct. But the good hermits, with Kasyapa at their head, came and entreated him, saying, "Forgive now this one fault of his: for he is the son of Madanavega, and therefore your brother-in-law." So the king was at last induced to spare his life, and let him off with a severe reprimand.

And he reunited that son of his maternal uncle, Avantivardhana, to his wife, and sent them off with their ministers to their own city, in the care of Váyupatha.

Chapter CXIII

When Naraváhanadatta on the Black Mountain had thus taken away the virtuous Suratamanjarí from his brother-in-law Ityaka, who had carried her off, and had reprimanded him, and had given her back to her husband, and was sitting in the midst of the hermits, the sage Kasyapa came and said to him, "There never was, king, and there never will be an emperor like you, since you do not allow passion and other feelings of the kind to influence your mind, when you are sitting on the seat of judgment. Fortunate are they who ever behold such a righteous lord as you are; for, though your empire is such as it is, no fault can be found with you.

"There were in former days Rishabha and other emperors; and they, being seized with various faults, were ruined and fell from their high estate. Rishabha, and Sarvadamana, and the third Bandhujívaka, all these, through excessive pride, were punished by Indra. And the Vidyádhara prince Jímútaváhana, when the sage Nárada came and asked him the reason of his obtaining the rank of emperor, told him how he gave away the wishing-tree and his own body, [633] and thus he fell from his high position by revealing his own virtuous deeds. And the sovereign named Visvántara, who was emperor here, he too, when his son Indívaráksha had been slain by Vasantatilaka, the king of Chedi, for seducing his wife, being wanting in self-control, died on account of the distracting sorrow which he felt for the death of his wicked son.

"But Tárávaloka alone, who was by birth a mighty human king, and obtained by his virtuous deeds the imperial sovereignty over the Vidyádharas, long enjoyed the high fortune of empire without falling into sin, and at last abandoned it of his own accord, out of distaste for all worldly pleasures, and went to the forest. Thus in old times did most of the Vidyádhara emperors, puffed up with the attainment of their high rank, abandon the right path, and fall, blinded with passion. So you must always be on your guard against slipping from the path of virtue, and you must take care that your Vidyádhara subjects do not swerve from righteousness."

When the hermit Kasyapa said this to Naraváhanadatta, the latter approved his speech, and said to him with deferential courtesy, "How did Tárávaloka, being a man, obtain in old time the sway over the Vidyádharas? Tell me, reverend Sir." When Kasyapa heard this, he said, "Listen, I will tell you his story."

Story of Tárávaloka.

There lived among the Sivis [634] a king of the name of Chandrávaloka; that sovereign had a head-wife named Chandralekhá. Her race was as spotless as the sea of milk, she was pure herself, and in character like the Ganges. And he had a great elephant that trampled the armies of his enemies, known on the earth as Kuvalayapída. Owing to the might of that elephant, the king was never conquered by any enemy in his realm, in which the real power was in the hands of the subjects.

And when his youth came to an end, that king had a son, with auspicious marks, born to him by his queen Chandralekhá. He gave the son the name of Tárávaloka, and he gradually grew up, and his inborn virtues of liberality, self-control, and discernment grew with him. And the mighty-minded youth learnt the meaning of all words except one; but he was so liberal to suppliants that he cannot be said ever to have learnt the meaning of the word "No." Gradually he became old in actions, though young in years; and though like the sun in fire of valour, he was exceedingly pleasing to look at; [635] like the full moon, he became beautiful by the possession of all noble parts; like the god of Love, he excited the longing of the whole world; in obedience to his father he came to surpass Jímútaváhana, and he was distinctly marked with the signs of a great emperor.

Then his father, the king Chandrávaloka, brought for that son of his the daughter of the king of the Madras, named Mádrí. And when he was married, his father, pleased with the supereminence of his virtues, at once appointed him Crown-prince. And when Tárávaloka had been appointed Crown-prince, he had made, with his father's permission, alms-houses for the distribution of food and other necessaries. And every day, the moment he got up, he mounted the elephant Kuvalayapída, and went round to inspect those alms-houses. [636] To whosoever asked anything he was ready to give it, even if it were his own life: in this way the fame of that Crown-prince spread in every quarter.

Then he had two twin sons born to him by Mádrí, and the father called them Ráma and Lakshmana. And the boys grew like the love and joy of their parents, and they were dearer than life to their grandparents. And Tárávaloka and Mádrí were never tired of looking at them, as they bent before them, being filled with virtue, like two bows of the prince, being strung. [637]

Then the enemies of Tárávaloka, seeing his elephant Kuvalayapída, his two sons, and his reputation for generosity, said to their Bráhmans, "Go and ask Tárávaloka to give you his elephant Kuvalayapída. If he gives it you, we shall be able to take from him his kingdom, as he will be deprived of that bulwark; if he refuses to give it, his reputation for generosity will be at an end." When the Bráhmans had been thus entreated, they consented, and asked Tárávaloka, that hero of generosity, for that elephant. Tárávaloka said to himself, "What do Bráhmans mean by asking for a mighty elephant? So I know for certain that they have been put up to asking me by some one. Happen what will, I must give them my splendid elephant, for how can I let a suppliant go away without obtaining his desire, while I live?" After going through these reflections, Tárávaloka gave the elephant to those Bráhmans with unwavering mind.

Then Chandrávaloka's subjects, seeing that splendid elephant being led away by those Bráhmans, went in a rage to the king, and said, "Your son has now abandoned this kingdom, and surrendering all his rights has taken upon him the vow of a hermit. For observe, he has given to some suppliants this great elephant Kuvalayapída, the foundation of the kingdom's prosperity, that scatters with its mere smell all other elephants. So you must either send your son to the forest to practise asceticism, or take back the elephant, or else we will set up another king in your place." [638]

When Chandrávaloka had been thus addressed by the citizens, he sent his son a message in accordance with their demands through the warder. When his son Tárávaloka heard that, he said, "As for the elephant, I have given it away, and it is my principle to refuse nothing to suppliants; but what do I care for such a throne as this, which is under the thumb of the subjects, or for a royal dignity which does not benefit others, [639] and anyhow is transient as the lightning? So it is better for me to live in the forest, among trees which give the fortune of their fruits to be enjoyed by all, and not here among such beasts of men as these subjects are." [640] When Tárávaloka had said this, he assumed the dress of bark, and after kissing the feet of his parents and giving away all his wealth to suppliants, he went out from his own city, accompanied by his wife, who was firm in the same resolution as himself, and his two children, comforting, as well as he could, the weeping Bráhmans. Even beasts and birds, when they saw him setting forth, wept so piteously that the earth was bedewed with their rain of tears.

Then Tárávaloka went on his way, with no possessions but a chariot and horses for the conveyance of his children; but some other Bráhmans asked him for the horses belonging to the chariot; he gave them to them immediately, and drew the chariot himself, with the assistance of his wife to convey those tender young sons to the forest. Then, as he was wearied out in the middle of the forest, another Bráhman came up to him, and asked him for his horseless chariot. He gave it to him without the slightest hesitation, and the resolute fellow, going along on his feet, with his wife and sons, at last with difficulty reached the grove of mortification. There he took up his abode at the foot of a tree, and lived with deer for his only retinue, nobly waited on by his wife Mádrí. And the forest regions ministered to the heroic prince, while living in this kingdom of devotion; their clusters of flowers waving in the wind were his beautiful chowries, broad-shaded trees were his umbrellas, leaves his bed, rocks his thrones, bees his singing-women, and various fruits his savoury viands.

Now, one day, his wife Mádrí left the hermitage to gather fruits and flowers for him with her own hands, and a certain old Bráhman came and asked Tárávaloka, who was in his hut, for his sons Ráma and Lakshmana. Tárávaloka said to himself, "I shall be better able to endure letting these sons of mine, though they are quite infants, be led away, [641] than I could possibly manage to endure the sending a suppliant away disappointed: the fact is, cunning fate is eager to see my resolution give way": then he gave those sons to the Bráhman. And when the Bráhman tried to take them away, they refused to go; then he tied their hands and beat them with creepers; and as the cruel man took them away, they kept crying for their mother, and turning round and looking at their father with tearful eyes. Even when Tárávaloka saw that, he was unmoved, but the whole world of animate and inanimate existences was moved at his fortitude.

Then the virtuous Mádrí slowly returned tired from a remote part of the forest to her husband's hermitage, bringing with her flowers, fruits and roots. And she saw her husband, who had his face sadly fixed on the ground, but she could not see anywhere those sons of hers, though their toys, in the form of horses, chariots, and elephants of clay, were scattered about. Her heart foreboded calamity, and she said excitedly to her husband "Alas! I am ruined! Where are my little sons?" Her husband slowly answered her, "Blameless one, I gave those two little sons away to a poor Bráhman, who asked for them." When the good lady heard that, she rose superior to her distraction, and said to her husband, "Then you did well: how could you allow a suppliant to go away disappointed?" When she said this, the equally matched goodness of that married couple made the earth tremble, and the throne of Indra rock.

Then Indra saw by his profound meditation that the world was made to tremble by virtue of the heroic generosity of Mádrí and Tárávaloka. Then he assumed the form of a Bráhman, and went to Tárávaloka's hermitage, to prove him, and asked him for his only wife Mádrí. And Tárávaloka was preparing to give without hesitation, by the ceremony of pouring water over the hands, [642] that lady who had been his companion in the wild forest, when Indra, thus disguised as a Bráhman, said to him, "Royal sage, what object do you mean to attain by giving away a wife like this?" Then Tárávaloka said, "I have no object in view, Bráhman; so much only do I desire, that I may ever give away to Bráhmans even my life." When Indra heard this, he resumed his proper shape, and said to him, "I have made proof of thee, and I am satisfied with thee; so I say to thee, thou must not again give away thy wife; and soon thou shalt be made emperor over all the Vidyádharas." When the god had said this, he disappeared.

In the meanwhile that old Bráhman took with him those sons of Tárávaloka, whom he had received as a Bráhman's fee, and losing his way, arrived, as Fate would have it, at the city of that king Chandrávaloka, and proceeded to sell those princes in the market. Then the citizens recognised those two boys, and went and informed king Chandrávaloka, and took them with the Bráhman into his presence. The king, when he saw his grandsons, shed tears, and after he had questioned the Bráhman, and had heard the state of the case from him, he was for a long time divided between joy and grief. Then, perceiving the exceeding virtue of his son, he at once ceased to care about a kingdom, though his subjects entreated him to remain, but with his wealth he bought those two grandsons from the Bráhman, and taking them with him, went with his retinue to the hermitage of his son Tárávaloka.

There he saw him with matted hair, wearing a dress of bark, looking like a great tree, the advantages of which are enjoyed by birds coming from every quarter, for he in like manner had bestowed all he had upon expectant Bráhmans. [643] That son ran towards him, while still a long way off, and fell at his feet, and his father bedewed him with tears, and took him up on his lap; and thus gave him a foretaste of his ascent of the throne, as emperor over the Vidyádharas, after the solemn sprinkling with water.

Then the king gave back to Tárávaloka his sons Ráma and Lakshmana, saying that he had purchased them, and while they were relating to one another their adventures, an elephant with four tusks and the goddess Lakshmí descended from heaven. And when the chiefs of the Vidyádharas had also descended, Lakshmí, lotus in hand, said to that Tárávaloka, "Mount this elephant, and come to the country of the Vidyádharas, and there enjoy the imperial dignity [644] earned by your great generosity."

When Lakshmí said this, Tárávaloka, after bowing at the feet of his father, mounted that celestial elephant, with her, and his wife, and his sons, in the sight of all the inhabitants of the hermitage, and surrounded by the kings of the Vidyádharas went through the air to their domain. There the distinctive sciences of the Vidyádharas repaired to him, and he long enjoyed supreme sway, but at last becoming disgusted with all worldly pleasures, he retired to a forest of ascetics.

"Thus Tárávaloka, though a man, acquired in old time by his deeds of spotless virtue the sovereignty of all the Vidyádharas. But others, after acquiring it, lost it by their offences: so be on your guard against unrighteous conduct either on your own part or on that of another." [645]

When the hermit Kasyapa had told this story, and had thus admonished Naraváhanadatta, that emperor promised to follow his advice. And he had a royal proclamation made all round the mountain of Siva, to the following effect, "Listen, Vidyádharas; whoever of my subjects after this commits an unrighteous act, will certainly be put to death by me." The Vidyádharas received his commands with implicit submission, and his glory was widely diffused on account of his causing Suratamanjarí to be set at liberty; and so he lived with his retinue in the hermitage of that excellent sage, on the Black Mountain, [646] in the society of his maternal uncle, and in this manner spent the rainy season.

Chapter CXIV

Glory to Siva, who assumes various forms; who, though his beloved takes up half his body, [647] is an ascetic, free from qualities, the due object of a world's adoration! We worship Ganesa, who, when fanning away the cloud of bees, that flies up from his trunk, with his flapping ears, seems to be dispersing the host of obstacles.

Thus Naraváhanadatta, who had been established in the position of lord paramount over all the kings of the Vidyádharas, remained on that Black Mountain in order to get through the rainy season, spending the time in the hermitage of that sage Kasyapa, and in the society of his maternal uncle Gopálaka, who was living the life of an ascetic. He was accompanied by his ministers, and surrounded by twenty-five of his wives, and attended by various Vidyádhara princes, and he occupied himself in telling tales. One day, the hermits and his wives said to him, "Tell us now! When Mánasavega took away queen Madanamanchuká by his magic power, who amused you impatient of separation, and how did he do it?"

When Naraváhanadatta had been asked this question by those hermits and by his wives, he proceeded to speak as follows; "Can I tell now how great grief I endured, when I found out that that wicked enemy had carried off my queen? There was no building, and no garden, or room, into which I did not roam seeking for her in my grief, and all my ministers with me. Then I sat down, as if beside myself, in a garden at the foot of a tree, and Gomukha, having obtained his opportunity, said to me, in order to console me, 'Do not be despondent, my sovereign; you will soon recover the queen; for the gods promised that you should rule the Vidyádharas with her as your consort; that must turn out as the gods predicted, for their promises are never falsified; and resolute men, after enduring separation, obtain reunion with those they love. Were not Rámabhadra, king Nala, and your own grandfather, [648] after enduring separation, reunited to their beloved wives? And was not Muktáphalaketu, emperor of the Vidyádharas, reunited to Padmávatí, after he had been separated from her? And now listen, king; I will tell you the story of that couple.' When Gomukha had said this, he told me the following tale."

Story of king Brahmadatta and the Swans. [649]

There is in this country a city famous over the earth by the name of Váránasí, which, like the body of Siva, is adorned with the Ganges, and bestows emancipation. With the flags on its temples swayed up and down by the wind, it seems to be ever saying to men "Come hither, and attain salvation." With the pinnacles of its white palaces it looks like the plateau of mount Kailása, the habitation of the god with the moon for a diadem, and it is full of troops of Siva's devoted servants. [650]

In that city there lived of old time a king named Brahmadatta, [651] exclusively devoted to Siva, a patron of Bráhmans, brave, generous, and compassionate. His commands passed current through the earth, they stumbled not in rocky defiles, they were not whelmed in seas, there were no continents which they did not cross. He had a queen named Somaprabhá, [652] who was dear and delightful to him as the moonlight to the chakora, and he was as eager to drink her in with his eyes. And he had a Bráhman minister named Sivabhúti, equal to Vrihaspati in intellect, who had fathomed the meaning of all the Sástras.

One night, that king, as he was lying on a bed on the top of a palace exposed to the rays of the moon, saw a couple of swans crossing through the air, with bodies of gleaming gold, looking like two golden lotuses opened in the water of the heavenly Ganges, [653] and attended by a train of king-geese. When that wonderful pair had passed from his eyes, the king was for a long time afflicted, and his mind was full of regret at no longer enjoying that sight. He passed that night without sleeping, and next morning he told his minister Sivabhúti what he had seen, and said to him, "So, if I cannot feast my eyes on those golden swans to my heart's content, of what profit to me is my kingdom or my life?"

When the king said this to his minister Sivabhúti, he answered him, "Do not be anxious; there is a means of bringing about what you desire; listen, king; I will tell you what it is. Owing to the various influence of actions in a previous birth, various is this infinite host of sentient beings produced by the Creator in this versatile world. This world is really fraught with woe, but owing to delusion there arises in creatures the fancy that happiness is to be found in it, and they take pleasure in house, and food, and drink, and so become attached to it. And Providence has appointed that different kinds of food, drink, and dwellings, should be agreeable to different creatures, according to the classes to which they respectively belong. So have made, king, a great lake to be the dwelling-place of these swans, covered with various kinds of lotuses, and watched by guards, where they will be free from molestation. And keep always scattering on the bank food of the kind that birds love, in order that water-birds may quickly come there from various quarters. Among them these two golden swans will certainly come; and then you will be able to gaze on them continually: do not be despondent."

When king Brahmadatta's minister said this to him, he had that great lake made according to his directions, and it was ready in a moment. The lake was frequented by swans, sárasas and chakravákas, [654] and after a time that couple of swans came there, and settled down on a clump of lotuses in it. Then the guards set to watch the lake came and informed the king of that fact, and he went down to the lake in a state of great delight, considering that his object had been accomplished. And he beheld those golden swans, and worshipped them from a distance, and ministered to their comfort by scattering for them grains of rice dipped in milk. And the king took so much interest in them that he spent his whole time on the bank of that lake watching those swans with their bodies of pure gold, their eyes of pearl, their beaks and feet of coral, and the tips of their wings of emerald, [655] which had come there in perfect confidence.

Now, one day, as the king was roaming along the bank of the lake, he saw in one place a pious offering made with unfading flowers. And he said to the guards there, "Who made this offering?" Then the guards of the lake said to the king, "Every day, at dawn, noon, and sunset, these golden swans bathe in the lake, and make these offerings, and stand absorbed in contemplation: so we cannot say, king, what is the meaning of this great wonder." When the king heard this from the guards, he said to himself, "Such a proceeding is quite inconsistent with the nature of swans; surely there must be a reason for this. So, I will perform asceticism until I find out who these swans are." Then the king and his wife and his minister gave up food, and remained performing penance and absorbed in meditation on Siva. And after the king had fasted for twelve days, the two heavenly swans came to him, and said to him in a dream with articulate voice, "Rise up, king; to-morrow we will tell you and your wife and minister, after you have broken your fast, the whole truth of the matter in private." When the swans had said this, they disappeared, and next morning the king and his wife and his minister, as soon as they awoke, rose up, and broke their fast. And after they had eaten, the two swans came to them, as they were sitting in a pleasure-pavilion near the water. The king received them with respect, and said to them, "Tell me who you are." Then they proceeded to tell him their history.

How Párvatí condemned her five attendants to be reborn on earth.

There is a monarch of mountains famous on the earth under the name of Mandara, in whose groves of gleaming jewels all the gods roam, on whose table-lands, watered with nectar from the churned sea of milk, are to be found flowers, fruits, roots, and water, that are antidotes to old age and death. Its highest peaks, composed of various precious stones, form the pleasure-grounds of Siva, and he loves it more than mount Kailása.

There, one day, that god left Párvatí, after he had been diverting himself with her, and disappeared, to execute some business for the gods. Then the goddess, afflicted by his absence, roamed in the various places where he loved to amuse himself, and the other gods did their best to console her.

And one day the goddess was much troubled by the advent of spring, and she was sitting surrounded by the Ganas at the foot of a tree, thinking about her beloved, when a noble Gana, named Manipushpesvara, looked lovingly at a young maiden, the daughter of Jayá, called Chandralekhá, who was waving a chowrie over the goddess. He was a match for her in youth and beauty, and she met his glance with a responsive look of love, as he stood by her side. Two other Ganas, named Pingesvara and Guhesvara, when they saw that, interchanged glances, and a smile passed over their faces. And when the goddess saw them smiling, she was angry in her heart, and she cast her eyes hither and thither, to see what they were laughing at in this unseemly manner. And then she saw that Chandralekhá and Manipushpesvara were looking lovingly in one another's faces.

Then the goddess, who was quite distracted with the sorrow of separation, was angry, and said, "These young people have done well to look lovingly [656] at one another in the absence of the god, and these two mirthful people have done well to laugh when they saw their glances: so let this lover and maiden, who are blinded with passion, fall into a human birth; and there the disrespectful pair shall be man and wife; but these unseasonable laughers shall endure many miseries on the earth; they shall be first poor Bráhmans, and then [657] Bráhman-Rákshasas, and then Pisáchas, and after that Chandálas, and then robbers, and then bob-tailed dogs, and then they shall be various kinds of birds,--shall these Ganas who offended by laughing; for their minds were unclouded, when they were guilty of this disrespectful conduct.

When the goddess had uttered this command, a Gana of the name of Dhúrjata said, "Goddess, this is very unjust; these excellent Ganas do not deserve so severe a curse, for a very small offence." When the goddess heard that, she said in her wrath to Dhúrjata also, "Fall thou also, great sir, that knowest not thy place, into a mortal womb." When the goddess had inflicted these tremendous curses, the female warder Jayá, the mother of Chandralekhá, clung to her feet, and addressed this petition to her, "Withdraw thy anger, goddess; appoint an end to the curse of this daughter of mine, and of these thy own servants, that have through ignorance committed sin." When Párvatí had been thus entreated by her warder Jayá, she said, "When all these, owing to their having obtained insight, shall in course of time meet together, they shall, after visiting Siva the lord of magic powers, in the place [658] where Brahmá and the other gods performed asceticism, return to our court, having been freed from their curse. And this Chandralekhá, and her beloved, and that Dhúrjata shall, all three of them, be happy in their life as mortals, but these two shall be miserable."

When the goddess had said this, she ceased; and at that very moment the Asura Andhaka came there, having heard of the absence of Siva. The presumptuous Asura hoped to win the goddess, but having been reproached by her attendants he departed, but he was slain on that account by the god, who discovered the reason of his coming, and pursued him. [659] Then Siva returned home having accomplished his object, and Párvatí delighted told him of the coming of Andhaka, and the god said to her, "I have to-day slain a former mind-born son of thine, named Andhaka, and he shall now be a Bhringin here, as nothing remains of him but skin and bone." When Siva had said this, he remained there diverting himself with the goddess, and Manipushpesvara and the other five descended to earth.

"Now, king, hear the long and strange story of these two, Pingesvara and Guhesvara."

Story of the metamorphoses of Pingesvara and Guhesvara.

There is on the earth a royal grant to Bráhmans, named Yajnasthala. In it there lived a rich [660] and virtuous Bráhman named Yajnasoma. In his middle age he had two sons born to him; the name of the elder was Harisoma and of the younger Devasoma. They passed through the age of childhood, and were invested with the sacred thread, and then the Bráhman their father lost his wealth, and he and his wife died.

Then those two wretched sons, bereaved of their father, and without subsistence, having had their grant taken from them by their relations, said to one another, "We are now reduced to living on alms, but we get no alms here. So we had better go to the house of our maternal grandfather, though it is far off. Though we have come down in the world, who on earth would welcome us, if we arrive of our own accord. Nevertheless let us go. What else indeed are we to do, for we have no other resource?"

After deliberating to this effect they went, begging their way, by slow stages, to that royal grant, where the house of their grandfather was. There the unfortunate young men found out, by questioning people, that their grandfather, whose name was Somadeva, was dead, and his wife also.

Then, begrimed with dust, they entered despairing the house of their maternal uncles named Yajnadeva and Kratudeva. There those good Bráhmans welcomed them kindly, and gave them food and clothing, and they remained engaged in study. But in course of time the wealth of their maternal uncles diminished, and they could keep no servants, and then they came and said to those nephews in the most affectionate way, "Dear boys, we can no longer afford to keep a man to look after our cattle, as we have become poor, so do you look after our cattle for us." When Harisoma and Devasoma's uncles said this to them, their throats were full of tears, but they agreed to their proposal. Then they took the cattle to the forest every day, and looked after them there, and at evening they returned home with them, wearied out.

Then, as they went on looking after the cattle, owing to their falling asleep in the day, some animals were stolen, and others were eaten by tigers. That made their uncles very unhappy: and one day a cow and goat intended for sacrifice, belonging to their uncles, both disappeared somewhere or other. Terrified at that, they took the other animals home before the right time, and running off in search of the two that were missing, they entered a distant forest. There they saw their goat half eaten by a tiger, and after lamenting, being quite despondent, they said, "Our uncles were keeping this goat for a sacrifice, and now that it is destroyed, their anger will be something tremendous. So let us dress its flesh with fire, and eat enough of it to put an end to our hunger, and then let us take the rest, and go off somewhere and support ourselves by begging."

After these reflections they proceeded to roast the goat, and while they were so engaged, their two uncles arrived, who had been running after them, and saw them cooking the goat. When they saw their uncles in the distance, they were terrified, and they rose up in great trepidation, and fled from the spot. And those two uncles in their wrath pronounced [661] on them the following curse, "Since, in your longing for flesh, you have done a deed worthy of Rákshasas, you shall become flesh-eating Bráhman-Rakshasas." And immediately those two young Bráhmans became Brahman-Rákshasas, having mouths formidable with tusks, flaming hair, and insatiable hunger; and they wandered about in the forest catching animals and eating them.

But one day they rushed upon an ascetic, who possessed supernatural power, to slay him, and he in self-defence cursed them, and they became Pisáchas. And in their condition as Pisáchas, they were carrying off the cow of a Bráhman, to kill it, but they were overpowered by his spells, and reduced by his curse to the condition of Chandálas.

One day, as they were roaming about in their condition as Chandálas, bow in hand, tormented with hunger, they reached, in their search for food, a village of bandits. The warders of the village, supposing them to be thieves, arrested them both, as soon as they saw them, and cut off their ears and noses. And they bound them, and beat them with sticks, and brought them in this condition before the chiefs of the bandits. There they were questioned by the chiefs, and being bewildered with fear, and tormented with hunger and pain, [662] they related their history to them. Then the chiefs of the gang, moved by pity, set them at liberty, and said to them, "Remain here and take food; do not be terrified. You have arrived here on the eighth day of the month, the day on which we worship Kártikeya, and so you are our guests; and should have a share in our feast." [663] "When the bandits had said this, they worshipped the goddess Durgá, and made the two Chandálas eat in their presence, [664] and having, as it happened, taken a fancy to them, they would not let them out of their sight. Then they lived with those bandits by robbing, and thanks to their courage, became eventually the chiefs of the gang.

And one night those chiefs marched with their followers to plunder a large town, a favourite abode of Siva, which some of their spies had selected for attack. Though they saw an evil omen, they did not turn back, and they reached and plundered the whole city and the temple of the god. Then the inhabitants cried to the god for protection, and Siva in his wrath bewildered the bandits by making them blind. And the citizens suddenly perceiving that, and thinking that it was due to the favour of Siva, assembled and smote those bandits with sticks and stones. And Ganas, moving about invisibly, flung some of the bandits into ravines, and dashed others to pieces against the ground.

And the people, seeing the two leaders, were about to put them to death, but they immediately turned into bob-tailed dogs. And in this transformation they suddenly remembered their former birth, and danced in front of Siva, and fled to him for protection. When the citizens, Bráhmans, merchants, and all, saw that, they were delighted at being free from fear of robbers, and went laughing to their houses. And then the delusion, that had possessed those two beings now turned into dogs, disappeared, and they awoke to reality, and in order to put an end to their curse, they fasted, and appealed to Siva by severe asceticism. And the next morning, the citizens, making high festival and worshipping Siva, beheld those dogs absorbed in contemplation, and though they offered them food, the creatures would not touch it.

And the two dogs remained in this state for several days, beheld by all the world, and then Siva's Ganas preferred this prayer to him, "O god, these two Ganas, Pingesvara and Guhesvara, who were cursed by the goddess, have been afflicted for a long time, so take pity on them." When the holy god heard that, he said, "Let these two Ganas be delivered from their canine condition and became crows!" Then they became crows, and broke their fast upon the rice of the offering, and lived happily, remembering their former state, exclusively devoted to Siva.

After some time, Siva having been satisfied by their devotion to him, they became by his command first vultures, and then peacocks; then those noble Ganas, in course of time, became swans; and in that condition also they strove with the utmost devotion to propitiate Siva. And at last they gained the favour of that god by bathing in sacred waters, by performing vows, by meditations, and acts of worship, and they became all composed of gold and jewels, and attained supernatural insight.

"Know that we are those very two, Pingesvara and Guhesvara, who by the curse of Párvatí endured a succession of woes, and have now become swans. But the Gana Manipushpesvara, who was in love with the daughter of Jayá, and was cursed by the goddess, has become a king upon earth, even yourself, Brahmadatta. And that daughter of Jayá has been born as this lady, your wife Somaprabhá; and that Dhúrjata has been born as this your minister Sivabhúti. And therefore we, having attained insight, and remembering the end of the curse appointed by Párvatí, appeared to you at night. By means of that artifice we have all been re-united here to-day; and we will bestow on you the perfection of insight.

"Come, let us go to that holy place of Siva on the Tridasa mountain, rightly named Siddhísvara, [665] where the gods performed asceticism in order to bring about the destruction of the Asura Vidyuddhvaja. And they slew that Asura in fight, with the help of Muktáphalaketu, the head of all the Vidyádhara princes, who had been obtained by the favour of Siva. And that Muktáphalaketu, having passed through the state of humanity brought upon him by a curse, obtained reunion with Padmávatí by the favour of the same god. Let us go to that holy place, which has such splendid associations connected with it, and there propitiate Siva, and then we will return to our own home, for such was the end of the curse appointed to all of us by the goddess, to take place at the same time." When the two heavenly swans said this to king Brahmadatta, he was at once excited with curiosity to hear the tale of Muktáphalaketu.

Chapter CXV

Then king Brahmadatta said to those celestial swans, "How did Muktáphalaketu kill that Vidyuddhvaja? And how did he pass through the state of humanity inflicted on him by a curse, and regain Padmávatí? Tell me this first, and afterwards you shall carry out your intentions." When those [666] birds heard this, they began to relate the story of Muktáphalaketu as follows.

Story of Muktáphalaketu and Padmávatí.

Once on a time there was a king of the Daityas named Vidyutprabhá, hard for gods to conquer. He, desiring a son, went to the bank of the Ganges, and with his wife performed asceticism for a hundred years to propitiate Brahmá. And by the favour of Brahmá, who was pleased with his asceticism, that enemy of the gods obtained a son named Vidyuddhvaja, who was invulnerable at their hands.

That son of the king of the Daityas, even when a child, was of great valour; and one day seeing that their town was guarded on all sides by troops, he said to one of his companions, "Tell me, my friend, what have we to be afraid of, that this town is thus guarded on all sides by troops?" Then his companion said to him, "We have an adversary in Indra the king of the gods; and it is on his account that this system of guarding the town is kept up. Ten hundred thousand elephants, and fourteen hundred thousand chariots, and thirty hundred thousand horsemen, and a hundred millions of footmen guard the city in turn for one watch of the night, and the turn of guarding comes round for every division in seven years."

When Vidyuddhvaja heard this, he said, "Out on such a throne, that is guarded by the arms of others, and not by its own might! However, I will perform such severe asceticism, as will enable me to conquer my enemy with my own arm, and put an end to all this insolence of his." When Vidyuddhvaja had said this, he put aside that companion of his, who tried to prevent him, and without telling his parents, went to the forest to perform penance.

But his parents heard of it, and in their affection for their child, they followed him, and said to him, "Do not act rashly, son; severe asceticism ill befits a child like you. Our throne has been victorious over its enemies; is there one more powerful in the whole world? What do you desire to get by withering yourself in vain? Why do you afflict us?" When Vidyuddhvaja's parents said this to him, he answered them, "I will acquire, even in my childhood, heavenly arms by the force of asceticism; as for our empire over the world being unopposed by enemies, do I not know so much from the fact that our city is guarded by troops ever ready in their harness?"

When the Asura Vidyuddhvaja, firm in his resolution, had said so much to his parents, and had sent them away, he performed asceticism to win over Brahmá. He continued for a period of three hundred years living on fruits only, and successively for similar periods living on water, air, and nothing at all. Then Brahmá, seeing that his asceticism was becoming capable of upsetting the system of the world, came to him, and at his request gave him the weapons of Brahmá. He said, "This weapon of Brahmá cannot be repelled by any weapon except the weapon of Pasupati Rudra, which is unattainable by me. So, if you desire victory, you must not employ it unseasonably." When Brahmá had said this, he went away, and that Daitya went home.

Then Vidyuddhvaja marched out to conquer his enemies with his father, and with all his forces, who came together to that great feast of war. Indra, the ruler of the gods' world, heard of his coming, and kept guard in heaven, and when he drew near, marched out to meet him, eager for battle, accompanied by his friend Chandraketu, the king of the Vidyádharas, and by the supreme lord of the Gandharvas, named Padmasekhara. Then Vidyuddhvaja appeared, hiding the heaven with his forces, and Rudra and others came there to behold that battle. Then there took place between those two armies a battle, which was involved in darkness [667] by the sun's being eclipsed with the clashing together of missiles; and the sea of war swelled high, lashed by the wind of wrath, with hundreds of chariots for inflowing streams, and rolling horses and elephants for marine monsters.

Then single combats took place between the gods and Asuras, and Vidyutprabhá, the father of Vidyuddhvaja, rushed in wrath upon Indra. Indra found himself being gradually worsted by the Daitya in the interchange of missiles; so he flung his thunderbolt at him. And then that Daitya, smitten by the thunderbolt, fell dead. And that enraged Vidyuddhvaja so that he attacked Indra. And, though his life was not in danger, he began by discharging at him the weapon of Brahmá; and other great Asuras struck at him with other weapons. Then Indra called to mind the weapon of Pasupati, presided over by Siva himself, which immediately presented itself in front of him; he worshipped it, and discharged it among his foes. That weapon, which was of the nature of a destroying fire, consumed the army of the Asuras; but Vidyuddhvaja, being a child, only fell senseless when smitten by it; for that weapon does not harm children, old men, or fugitives. Then all the gods returned home victorious.

And Vidyuddhvaja, for his part, who had fallen senseless, recovered his senses after a very long time, and fled weeping, and then said to the rest of his soldiers, who had assembled; "In spite of my having acquired the weapon of Brahmá, we were not victorious to-day, though victory was in our grasp; on the contrary we were defeated. So I will go and attack Indra, and lose my life in battle. Now that my father is slain, I shall not be able to return to my own city." When he said this, an old minister of his father's said to him, "The weapon of Brahmá, discharged unseasonably, is too languid to contend with other weapons discharged, for that great weapon was to-day overcome by the weapon of Siva, which will not brook the presence of others. So you ought not unseasonably to challenge your victorious enemy, for in this way you will strengthen him and destroy yourself. The calm and resolute man preserves his own life, and in due time regains might, and takes revenge on his enemy, and so wins a reputation esteemed by the whole world."

When that old minister said this to Vidyuddhvaja, he said to him, "Then go you and take care of my kingdom, but I will go and propitiate that supreme lord Siva."

When he had said this, he dismissed his followers, though they were loth to leave him, and he went with five young Daityas, companions of equal age, and performed asceticism on the bank of the Ganges, at the foot of mount Kailása. During the summer he stood in the midst of five fires, and during the winter in the water, meditating on Siva; and for a thousand years he lived on fruits only. For a second thousand years he ate only roots, for a third he subsisted on water, for a fourth on air, and during the fifth he took no food at all.

Brahmá once more came to grant him a boon, but he did not shew him any respect: on the contrary he said, "Depart, I have tested the efficiency of thy boon." And he remained fasting for another period of equal duration, and then a great volume of smoke rose up from his head; and Siva manifested himself to him, and said to him, "Choose a boon." When thus addressed, that Daitya said to him, "May I, Lord, by thy favour slay Indra in fight!" The god answered, "Rise up! There is no distinction between the slain [668] and the conquered; so thou shalt conquer Indra and dwell in his heaven."

When the god had said this, he disappeared, and Vidyuddhvaja, considering that the wish of his heart was attained, broke his fast, and went to his city. There he was welcomed by the citizens, and met by that minister of his father's, who had endured suffering for his sake, and who now made great rejoicing. He then summoned the armies of the Asuras, and made preparation for battle, and sent an ambassador to Indra to warn him to hold himself in readiness for fight. And he marched out, hiding with his banners the sky, which he clove with the thunderous roar of his host, and so he seemed to be fulfilling the wish [669] of the inhabitants of heaven. And Indra, for his part, knowing that he had returned from winning a boon, was troubled, but after taking counsel with the adviser of the gods, [670] he summoned his forces.

Then Vidyuddhvaja arrived, and there took place between those two armies a great battle, in which it was difficult to distinguish between friend and foe. Those Daityas, who were headed by Subáhu, fought with the wind-gods, and Pingáksha and his followers with the gods of wealth, and Mahámáya and his forces with the gods of fire, and Ayahkáya and his hosts with the sun-gods, and Akampana and his warriors with the Siddhas; some other Daityas fought with the Vidyádharas, and the rest with the Gandharvas and their allies. So a great battle continued between them for twenty days, and on the twenty-first day the gods were routed in fight by the Asuras.

And when routed, they fled, and entered heaven: and then Indra himself issued, mounted on Airávana. And the forces of the gods rallied round him, and marched out again, with the leaders of the Vidyádharas, headed by Chandraketu. Then a desperate fight took place, and Asuras and gods [671] were being slain in great numbers, when Vidyuddhvaja attacked Indra, to revenge the slaughter of his father. The king of the gods cleft over and over again the bow of that chief of the Asuras, who kept repelling his shafts with answering shafts. Then Vidyuddhvaja, elated with the boon of Siva, seized his mace, and rushed furiously on Indra. He leapt up, planting his feet on the tusks of Airávana, and climbed up on his forehead, and killed his driver. And he gave the king of the gods a blow with his mace, and he quickly returned it with a similar weapon. But when Vidyuddhvaja struck him a second time with his mace, Indra fell senseless on to the chariot of the Wind-god. And the Wind-god carried him away in his chariot out of the fight with the speed of thought; and Vidyuddhvaja, who sprang after him, [672] fell on the ground.

At that moment a voice came from the air, "This is an evil day, so carry Indra quickly out of the fight." Then the Wind-god carried off Indra at the utmost speed of his chariot, and Vidyuddhvaja pursued them, mounted on his; and in the meanwhile Airávanah, infuriated and unrestrained by the driver's hook, ran after Indra, trampling and scattering the forces. And the army of the gods left the field of battle and followed Indra; and Brihaspati carried off his wife Sachí, who was much alarmed, to the heaven of Brahmá. Then Vidyuddhvaja, having gained the victory, and having found Amarávatí empty, entered it, accompanied by his shouting troops.

And Indra, having recovered consciousness, and seeing that it was an evil time, entered that heaven of Brahmá with all the gods. And Brahmá comforted him, saying, "Do not grieve; at present this boon of Siva is predominant; but you will recover your position." And he gave him, to dwell in, a place of his own, furnished with all delights, named Samádhisthala, situated in a region of the world of Brahmá. There the king of the gods dwelt, accompanied by Sachí and Airávana: and by his orders the Vidyádhara kings went to the heaven of the Wind-god. And the lords of the Gandharvas went to the inviolable world of the moon; and others went to other worlds, abandoning severally their own dwellings. And Vidyuddhvaja, having taken possession of the territory of the gods with beat of drum, enjoyed sway over heaven, [673] as an unlimited monarch.

At this point of the story, Chandraketu the Vidyádhara king, having remained long in the world of the Wind-god, said to himself, "How long am I to remain here, fallen from my high rank? The asceticism of my enemy Vidyuddhvaja has not even now spent its force; but I have heard that my friend Padmasekhara, the king of the Gandharvas, has gone from the world of the Moon to the city of Siva to perform asceticism. I do not know as yet, whether Siva has bestowed a boon on him, or not; when I have discovered that, I shall know what I myself ought to do."

While he was going through these reflections, his friend, the king of the Gandharvas, came towards him, having obtained a boon. That king of the Gandharvas, having been welcomed with an embrace by Chandraketu, and questioned, [674] told him his story, "I went to the city of Siva and propitiated Siva with asceticism; and he said to me, 'Go, thou shalt have a noble son; and thou shalt recover thy kingdom, and obtain a daughter of transcendent beauty, whose husband shall be the heroic slayer of Vidyuddhvaja.' [675] Having received this promise from Siva, I have come here to tell you."

When Chandraketu had heard this from the king of the Gandharvas he said, "I too must go and propitiate Siva in order to put an end to this sorrow; without propitiating him we cannot obtain the fulfilment of our desires. "When Chandraketu had formed this resolution, he went with his wife Muktávalí to the heavenly abode of Siva, to perform asceticism.

And Padmasekbara told the story of his boon to Indra, and having conceived a hope of the destruction of his enemy, went to the world of the moon. Then that king of the gods in Samádhisthala, having also conceived a hope of the destruction of his enemy, called to mind the counsellor of the immortals. And he appeared as soon as he was thought upon, and the god, bowing before him, and honouring him, said to him, "Siva, pleased with the asceticism of Padmasekhara, has promised that he shall have a son-in-law who shall slay Vidyuddhvaja. So we shall eventually see an end put to his crimes; in the meanwhile I am despondent, dwelling here in misery on account of my having fallen from my high position. So devise, holy sir, some expedient that will operate quickly." When the adviser of the gods heard this speech of Indra's, he said to him; "It is true that that enemy of ours has nearly exhausted his asceticism by his crimes; so now we have an opportunity of exerting ourselves against him. Come, then; let us tell Brahmá; he will point out to us an expedient."

When Brihaspati had said this to Indra, he went with him to Brahmá, and after worshipping him, he told him what was in his mind. Then Brahmá said, "Am I not also anxious to bring about the same end? But Siva alone can remove the calamity that he has caused. And that god requires a long propitiation: [676] so let us go to Vishnu, who is like-minded with him; he will devise an expedient."

When Brahmá and Indra and Brihaspati had deliberated together to this effect, they ascended a chariot of swans, and went to Svetadvípa; [677] where all the inhabitants carried the conch, discus, lotus, and club, and had four arms, being assimilated to Vishnu in appearance as they were devoted to him in heart. There they saw the god in a palace composed of splendid jewels, reposing on the serpent Sesha, having his feet adored by Lakshmí. After bowing before him, and having been duly welcomed by him, and venerated by the divine sages, they took the seats befitting them. When the holy one asked the gods how they prospered, they humbly said to him, "What prosperity can be ours, O god, as long as Vidyuddhvaja is alive? For you know all that he has done to us, and it is on his account that we have come here now: it now rests with you to determine what further is to be done in this matter."

When the gods said this to Vishnu, he answered them, "Why, do I not know that my regulations are broken by that Asura? But what the great lord, the slayer of Tripura has done, he alone can undo: I cannot. And from him must proceed the overthrow of that wicked Daitya. You must make haste, provided I tell you an expedient; and I will tell you one; listen! There is a heavenly abode of Siva, named Siddhísvara. There the god Siva is found ever manifest. And long ago that very god manifested to me and Prajápati [678] his form as the flame-linga, and told me this secret. So come, let us go there and entreat him with asceticism: he will put an end to this affliction of the worlds." When the god Vishnu had uttered this behest, they all went to Siddhísvara by means of two conveyances, the bird Garuda and the chariot of swans. That place is untouched by the calamities of old age, death, and sickness, and it is the home of unalloyed happiness, and in it beasts, birds, and trees are all of gold. There they worshipped the linga of Siva, that exhibits in succession all his forms, [679] and is in succession of various jewels; and then Vishnu, Brahmá, Indra, and Brihaspati, all four, with their minds devoted to Siva, proceeded to perform a severe course of asceticism in order to propitiate him.

And in the meanwhile Siva, propitiated by the severe asceticism of Chandraketu, bestowed a boon on that prince of the Vidyádharas, "Rise up, king, a son shall be born to thee, who shall be a great hero, and shall slay in fight thy enemy Vidyuddhvaja; he shall become incarnate among the human race by a curse, and shall render a service to the gods, and shall recover his position by virtue of the asceticism of Padmávatí, the daughter of the king of the Gandharvas: and with her for a wife he shall be emperor over all the Vidyádharas for ten kalpas." [680] When the god had granted this boon, he disappeared, and Chandraketu went back to the world of the Wind-god with his wife.

In the meanwhile Siva was pleased with the severe asceticism of Vishnu and his companions in Siddhísvara, and he appeared to them in the linga and delighted them by the following speech, "Rise up, afflict yourselves no longer; I have been fully propitiated with self-torture by your partizan Chandraketu, the prince of the Vidyádharas. And he shall have a heroic son, sprung from a part of me, who shall soon slay in fight that Daitya Vidyuddhvaja. Then, in order that he may perform another service to the gods, he shall fall [681] by a curse into the world of men, and the daughter of the Gandharva Padmasekhara shall deliver him from that condition. And he shall rule the Vidyádharas with that lady, who shall be an incarnation of a portion of Gaurí, and shall be named Padmávatí, for his consort, and at last he shall come to me. So bear up for a little: this desire of yours is already as good as accomplished." "When Siva had said this to Vishnu and his companions, he disappeared; then Vishnu, Brahmá, Indra and Brihaspati went, in high delight, back to the places from which they came.

Then Muktávalí the wife of that king of the Vidyádharas, named Chandraketu, became pregnant, and in time she brought forth a son, illuminating the four quarters with his irresistible splendour, [682] like the infant sun arisen to remove the oppression under which those ascetics were groaning. And as soon as he was born this voice was heard from heaven, "Chandraketu, this son of thine shall slay the Asura Vidyuddhvaja, and know that he is to be by name Muktáphalaketu, the terror of his foes."

When the voice had said so much to the delighted Chandraketu, it ceased; and a rain of flowers fell; and Padmasekhara, and Indra, hearing what had taken place, came there, and the other gods, who were lurking concealed. Conversing to one another of the story of the boon of Siva, and having rejoiced thereat, they went to their own abodes. And Muktáphalaketu had all the sacraments performed for him, and gradually grew up; and as he grew, the joy of the gods increased.

Then, some time after the birth of his son, a daughter was born to Padmasekhara, the supreme lord of the Gandharvas. And when she was born, a voice came from the air, "Prince of the Gandharvas, this daughter of thine Padmávatí shall be the wife of that king of the Vidyádharas who shall be the foe of Vidyuddhvaja." Then that maiden Padmávatí gradually grew up, adorned with an overflowing effulgence of beauty, as if with billowy nectar acquired by her being born in the world of the moon. [683]

And that Muktáphalaketu, even when a child, was high-minded, and being always devoted to Siva, he performed asceticism, in the form of vows, fasts, and other penances. And once on a time, when he had fasted twelve days, and was absorbed in meditation, the adorable Siva appeared to him, and said, "I am pleased with this devotion of thine, so by my special favour the weapons, the sciences, and all the accomplishments shall manifest themselves to thee. And receive from me this sword named Invincible, [684] by means of which thou shalt hold sovereign sway, unconquered by thy enemies." When the god had said this, he gave him the sword and disappeared, and that prince at once became possessed of powerful weapons and great strength and courage.

Now, one day, about this time, that great Asura Vidyuddhvaja, being established in heaven, was disporting himself in the water of the heavenly Ganges. He saw the water of that stream flowing along brown with the pollen of flowers, and remarked that it was pervaded by the smell of the ichor of elephants, and troubled with waves. Then, puffed up with pride of his mighty arm, he said to his attendants, "Go and see who is disporting himself in the water above me." When the Asuras heard that, they went up the stream, and saw the bull of Siva sporting in the water with the elephant of Indra. And they came back and said to that prince of the Daityas, "King, the bull of Siva has gone higher up the stream, and is amusing himself in the water with Airávana: so this water is full of his garlands and of the ichor of Airávana." When that Asura heard this, he was wroth, in his arrogance making light of Rudra, and infatuated by the full ripening of his own evil deeds he said to his followers, "Go and bring that bull and Airávana here bound." Those Asuras went there, and tried to capture them, and thereupon the bull and elephant ran upon them in wrath and slew most of them. And those who escaped from the slaughter went and told Vidyuddhvaja; and he was angry, and sent a very great force of Asuras against those two animals. And those two trampled to death that army, upon which destruction came as the result of matured crime, and then the bull returned to Siva, and the elephant to Indra.

Then Indra heard about that proceeding of the Daitya's from the guards, who followed Airávana to take care of him, and he concluded that the time of his enemy's destruction had arrived, as he had treated with disrespect even the adorable Siva. He told that to Brahmá, and then he united himself with the assembled forces of the gods, and the Vidyádharas, and his other allies; and then he mounted the chief elephant of the gods, and set out to slay that enemy of his; and on his departure Sachí performed for him the usual ceremony to ensure good fortune.

Chapter CXVI

Then Indra reached heaven and surrounded it with his forces, that were rendered confident by the favour of Siva, and had gained the suitable opportunity and the requisite strength. When Vidyuddhvaja saw that, he marched out with his army ready for battle; but as he marched out evil omens manifested themselves to him; lightning flashes struck his banners, vultures circled above his head, the state-umbrellas were broken, and jackals uttered boding howls. [685] Disregarding these evil omens, nevertheless that Asura sallied forth; and then there took place a mighty battle between the gods and the Asuras.

And Indra said to Chandraketu the king of the Vidyádharas, "Why has Muktáphalaketu not yet come?" Then Chandraketu humbly made answer, "When I was marching out I was in such a hurry that I forgot to tell him; but he is sure to hear of it, and will certainly follow me quickly." When the king of the gods heard this, he quickly sent the dexterous charioteer of the Wind-god to bring the noble Muktáphalaketu. And his father Chandraketu sent with Indra's messenger his own warder, with a force and a chariot, to summon him.

But Muktáphalaketu, hearing that his father had gone to battle with the Daityas, was eager to set out for that fight with his followers. Then he mounted his elephant of victory, and his mother performed for him the ceremony to ensure good fortune, and he set out from the world of the Wind, bearing the sword of Siva. And when he had set out, a rain of flowers fell on him from heaven, and the gods beat their drums, and favouring breezes blew. And then the hosts of the gods, that had fled and hid themselves out of fear of Vidyuddhvaja, assembled and surrounded him. As he was marching along with that large army, he saw in his way a great temple of Párvatí named Meghavana. His devotion to the goddess would not allow him to pass it without worshipping [686]; so he got down from his elephant, and taking in his hand heavenly flowers, he proceeded to adore the goddess.

Now it happened that, at that very time, Padmávatí the daughter of Padmasekhara the king of the Gandharvas, who had now grown up, had taken leave of her mother, who was engaged in austerities to bring good fortune to her husband who had gone to war, and had come, with her attendant ladies, in a chariot, from the world of Indra, to that temple of Gaurí, with the intention of performing asceticism in order to ensure success to her father in battle, and to the bridegroom on whom she had set her heart.

On the way one of her ladies said to her, "You have not as yet any chosen lover, who might have gone to the war, and your mother is engaged in asceticism for the well-being of your father; for whose sake, my friend, do you, a maiden, seek to perform asceticism?" When Padmávatí had been thus addressed by her friend on the way, she answered, "My friend, a father is to maidens a divinity procuring all happiness; moreover there has already been chosen for me a bridegroom of unequalled excellence. That Muktáphalaketu, the son who has been born to the Vidyádhara king, in order that he may slay Vidyuddhvaja, has been destined for my husband by Siva. This I heard from the mouth of my father, when questioned by my mother. And that chosen bridegroom of mine has either gone, or certainly is going to battle: so I am about to propitiate with asceticism the holy Gaurí, desiring victory for my future husband [687] as well as for my father."

When the princess said this, her attendant lady answered her, "Then this exertion on your part, though directed towards an object still in the future, is right and proper; may your desire be accomplished!" Just as her friend was saying this to her, the princess reached a large and beautiful lake in the neighbourhood of the temple of Gaurí. It was covered all over with bright full-blown golden lotuses, and they seemed as if they were suffused with the beauty flowing forth from the lotus of her face. The Gandharva maiden went down into that lake, and gathered lotuses with which to worship Ambiká, and was preparing to bathe, when two Rákshasís came that way, as all the Rákshasas were rushing to the battle between the gods and Asuras, eager for flesh. They had up-standing hair, yellow as the flames vomited forth from their mouths terrible with tusks, gigantic bodies black as smoke, and pendulous breasts and bellies. The moment that those wanderers of the night saw that Gandharva princess, they swooped down upon her, and seized her, and carried her up towards the heaven.

But the deity, that presided over her chariot, impeded the flight of those Rákshasís, and her grieving retinue cried for help; and while this was going on, Muktáphalaketu issued from the temple of the goddess, having performed his worship; and hearing the lamentation, he came in that direction. When the great hero beheld Padmávatí gleaming bright in the grasp of that pair of Rákshasís, looking like a flash of lightning in the midst of a bank of black clouds, he ran forward and delivered her, hurling the Rákshasís senseless to earth by a blow from the flat of his hand. And he looked on that torrent river of the elixir of beauty, adorned with a waist charming with three wave-like wrinkles, who seemed to have been composed by the Creator of the essence of all beauty, when he was full of the wonderful skill he had acquired by forming the nymphs of heaven. And the moment he looked on her, his senses were benumbed by love's opiate, though he was strong of will; and he remained for a moment motionless, as if painted in a picture.

And Padmávatí too, now that the alarm caused by the Rákshasís was at an end, at once recovered her spirits, and looked on the prince, who possessed a form that was a feast to the eyes of the world, and who was one fitted to madden womankind, and seemed to have been created by Fate by a blending together in one body of the moon and the god of Love. Then, her face being cast down with shame, she said of her own accord to her friend, "May good luck befall him! I will depart hence, from the presence of a strange man."

Even while she was saying this, Muktáphalaketu said to her friend, "What did this young lady say?" And she answered, "This lovely maiden bestowed a blessing on you, the saver of her life, and said to me, "Come, let us depart from the presence of a strange man." When Muktáphalaketu heard this, he said to her with eager excitement, "Who is she? Whose daughter is she? To what man of great merit in a former life is she to be given in marriage? [688]"

When he addressed this question to the princess's companion, she answered him, "Fair sir, this my friend is the maiden named Padmávatí, the daughter of Padmasekhara the king of the Gandharvas, and Siva has ordained that her husband is to be Muktáphalaketu, the son of Chandraketu, the darling of the world, the ally of Indra, the destined slayer of Vidyuddhvaja. Because she desires the victory for that future husband of hers and for her father in the battle now at hand, she has come to this temple of Gaurí to perform asceticism."

When the followers of Chandraketu's son heard this, they delighted the princess by exclaiming, "Bravo! here is that future husband of yours." Then the princess and her lover had their hearts filled with joy at discovering one another, and they both thought, "It is well that we came here to-day," and they continued casting loving sidelong timid glances at one another; and while they were thus engaged, the sound of drums was heard, and then a host appeared, and a chariot with the wind-god, [689] and the warder of Chandraketu coming quickly.

Then the wind-god and the warder respectfully left the chariot, and went up to that Muktáphalaketu, and said to him, "The king of the gods and your father Chandraketu, who are in the field of battle, desire your presence: so ascend this chariot, and come quickly." Then the son of the Vidyádhara king, though fettered by love of Padmávatí, ascended the chariot with them, out of regard for the interests of his superiors. And putting on a heavenly suit of armour [690] sent by Indra, he set out quickly, often turning back his head to look at Padmávatí.

And Padmávatí followed with her eyes, as long as he was in sight, that hero, who with one blow from the flat of his hand had slain the two Rákshasís, and with him ever in her thoughts, she bathed and worshipped Siva and Párvatí, and from that time forth kept performing asceticism in that very place, to ensure his success.

And Muktáphalaketu, still thinking on his sight of her, which was auspicious and portended victory, reached the place where the battle was going on between the gods and Asuras. And when they saw that hero arrive well-armed and accompanied by a force, all the great Asuras rushed to attack him. But the hero cut their heads to pieces with a rain of arrows, and made with them an offering to the gods of the cardinal points, by way of inaugurating the feast of battle.

But Vidyuddhvaja, seeing his army being slain by that Muktáphalaketu, himself rushed in wrath to attack him. And when he smote with arrows that Daitya, as he came on, the whole army of the Asuras rushed upon him from every quarter. When Indra saw that, he at once attacked the army of the Daityas, with the Siddhas, Gandharvas, Vidyádharas, and gods at his back.

Then a confused battle arose, with dint of arrow, javelin, lance, mace and axe, costing the lives of countless soldiers; rivers of blood flowed along, with the bodies of elephants and horses for alligators, with the pearls from the heads of elephants [691] for sands, and with the heads of heroes for stones. That feast of battle delighted the flesh-loving demons, who, drunk with blood instead of wine, were dancing with the palpitating trunks. The fortune of victory of the gods and Asuras in that sea of battle, swayed hither and thither from time to time, fluctuating like a tide-wave. And in this way the fight went on for twenty-four days, watched by Siva, Vishnu, and Brahmá, who were present in their chariots.

And at the end of the twenty-fifth day a series of single combats was taking place between the principal warriors of both armies along the greater part of the line of fight. And then a duel began between the noble Muktáphalaketu, and Vidyuddhvaja, the former in a chariot, the latter on an elephant. Muktáphalaketu repelled the weapon of darkness with the weapon of the sun, the weapon of cold with the weapon of heat, the rock-weapon with the thunderbolt-weapon, the serpent-weapon with the weapon of Garuda, and then he slew the elephant-driver of that Asura with one arrow, and his elephant with another. Then Vidyuddhvaja mounted a chariot, and Muktáphalaketu killed the charioteer and the horses. Then Vidyuddhvaja took refuge in magic. He ascended into the sky invisible with his whole army, and rained stones and weapons on all sides of the army of the gods. And as for the impenetrable net of arrows which Muktáphalaketu threw around it, that Daitya consumed it with showers of fire.

Then Muktáphalaketu sent against that enemy and his followers the weapon of Brahmá, which was capable of destroying the whole world, after he had pronounced over it the appropriate spells. That weapon killed the great Asura Vidyuddhvaja and his army, and they fell down dead from the sky. And the rest, namely, Vidyuddhvaja's son and his followers, and Vajradanshtra and his crew fled in fear to the bottom of Rasátala. [692]

And then the gods from heaven exclaimed, "Bravo! Bravo!" and they honoured the noble Muktáphalaketu with a rain of flowers. Then Indra, having recovered his sway, as his enemy was slain, entered heaven, and there was great rejoicing in the three worlds. And Prajápati [693] himself came there, making Sachí precede him, and fastened a splendid crest-jewel on the head of Muktáphalaketu. And Indra took the chain from his own neck, and placed it on the neck of that victorious prince, who had restored his kingdom to him. And he made him sit on a throne equal in all respects to his own; and the gods, full [694] of joy, bestowed upon him various blessings. And Indra sent on his warder to the city of the Asura Vidyuddhvaja, and took possession of it in addition to his own city, with the intention of bestowing it on Muktáphalaketu, when a fitting time presented itself.

Then the Gandharva Padmasekhara, wishing to bestow Padmávatí on that prince, looked meaningly at the face of the Disposer. And the Disposer, knowing what was in his heart, said to that prince of the Gandharvas, "There is still a service remaining to be done, so wait a little." Then there took place the triumphal feast of Indra, with the songs of Háhá and Húhú, and the dances of Rambhá and others, which they accompanied with their own voices. And when the Disposer had witnessed the festive rejoicing, he departed, and Indra honoured the Lokapálas and dismissed them to their several stations. [695] And after honouring that Gandharva monarch Padmasekhara and his train, he dismissed them to their own Gandharva city. And Indra, after treating with the utmost respect the noble Muktáphalaketu and Chandraketu, sent them to their own Vidyádhara city to enjoy themselves. And then Muktáphalaketu, having destroyed the plague of the universe, returned to his palace, accompanied by his father, and followed by many Vidyádhara kings. And on account of the prince having returned victorious with his father, after a long absence, that city displayed its joy, being adorned with splendid jewels, and garlanded with flags. And his father Chandraketu at once bestowed gifts on all his servants and relations, and kept high festival in the city for the triumph of his son, showering wealth on it, as a cloud showers water. But Muktáphalaketu, though he had gained glory by conquering Vidyuddhvaja, derived no satisfaction from his enjoyments without Padmávatí. However, being comforted in soul by a friend named Samyata, who reminded him of the decree of Siva, and consoling topics of that kind, he managed, though with difficulty, to get through those days.

Chapter CXVII

In the meanwhile, that king of the Gandharvas, Padmasekhara, re-entered his city, celebrating a splendid triumph; and hearing from his wife that his daughter Padmávatí had performed asceticism in the temple of Gaurí, to procure for him victory, he summoned her. And when his daughter came, emaciated with asceticism and separation from her lover, and fell at his feet, he gave her his blessing, and said to her, "Dear girl, for my sake you have endured great hardship in the form of penance, so obtain quickly for a husband the noble Muktáphalaketu, the son of the king of the Vidyádharas, the slayer of Vidyuddhvaja, the victorious protector of the world, who has been appointed to marry you by Siva himself."

When her father said this to her, she remained with face fixed on the ground, and then her mother Kuvalayávali said to him, "How, my husband, was so terrible an Asura, that filled the three worlds with consternation, slain by that prince in fight?" When the king heard that, he described to her the valour of that prince, and the battle between the gods and Asuras. Then Padmávatí's companion, whose name was Manoháriká, described the easy manner in which he slew the two Rákshasís. Then the king and queen, finding out that he and their daughter had met and fallen in love, were pleased, and said, "What could those Rákshasís do against one, who swallowed the whole army of the Asuras, as Agastya swallowed the sea?" Then the fire of Padmávatí's love blazed up more violently, being fanned by this description of her lover's surpassing courage, as by a breeze.

Then the princess left her parents' presence, and immediately ascended in eager longing a jewelled terrace in the women's apartments, which had pillars of precious stone standing in it, and lattices of pearl fastened to them, and had placed on its pavement, of costly mosaic, luxurious couches and splendid thrones, and was rendered still more delightful by means of the various enjoyments which there presented themselves as soon as thought of. Even when there, she was exceedingly tortured with the fire of separation. And she saw from the top of this terrace a magnificent heavenly garden, planted with trees and creepers of gold, and full of hundreds of tanks adorned with costly stone. And when she saw it, she said to herself, "Wonderful! This splendid city of ours is more beautiful even than the world of the moon in which I was born. And yet I have not explored this city which is the very crest-jewel of the Himálayas, in which there is such a splendid suburban garden excelling Nandana. So I will go into this lovely shrubbery, cool with the shade of trees, and alleviate a little the scorching of the fires of separation."

After the young maiden had gone through these reflections, she dexterously managed to descend slowly from the terrace alone, and prepared to go to that city garden. And as she could not go on foot, she was carried there by some birds that were brought to her by her power, and served as her conveyance. When she reached the garden, she sat in an arbour formed of plantains growing together, on a carpet of flowers, with heavenly singing and music sounding in her ears. And even there she did not obtain relief, and her passion did not abate; on the contrary, the fire of her love increased still more, as she was separated from her beloved.

Then in her longing she was eager to behold that loved one, though only in a picture, so by her magic power she summoned for herself a tablet for painting and colour-pencils. And she said to herself, "Considering even the Disposer is unable to create a second like my beloved, how can I, reed [696] in hand, produce a worthy likeness of him? Nevertheless, I will paint him as well as I can for my own consolation." After going through these reflections she proceeded to paint him on a tablet, and while she was thus engaged, her confidante Manoháriká, who had been troubled at not seeing her, came to that place to look for her. She stood behind the princess, and saw her languishing alone in the bower of creepers, with her painting-tablet in her hand. She said to herself, "I will just see now what the princess is doing here alone." So the princess's confidante remained there concealed.

And then Padmávatí, with her lotus-like eyes gushing with tears, began to address in the following words her beloved in the painting. "When thou didst slay the formidable Asuras and deliver Indra, how comes it that thou dost not deliver me from my woe, though near me, by speaking to me at any rate? To one whose merits in a former life are small, even a wishing-tree is ungenerous, even Buddha is wanting in compassion, and even gold becomes a stone. Thou knowest not the fever of love, and canst not comprehend my pain; what could the poor archer Love, whose arrows are but flowers, do against one whom the Daityas found invincible? But what am I saying? Truly Fate is adverse to me, for Fate stops my eyes with tears, and will not allow me to behold thee for long together, even in a picture." When the princess had said this, she began to weep with teardrops that were so large that it appeared as if her necklace were broken, and great pearls were falling from it.

At that moment her friend Manoháriká advanced towards her, and the princess concealed the picture and said to her, "My friend, I have not seen you for ever so long; where have you been?" When Manoháriká heard this, she laughed and said, "I have been wandering about, my friend, for a long time to look for you; so, why do you hide the picture? I saw a moment ago a wonderful picture." [697]

When Padmávatí's friend said this to her, she seized her hand, and said to her with a face cast down from shame, and a voice choked with tears, "My friend, you knew it all long ago; why should I try to conceal it? [698] The fact is, that prince, though on that occasion, in the sacred enclosure of Gaurí, he delivered me from the terrible fire of the Rákshasí's wrath, plunged me nevertheless in the fire of love, with its intolerable flame of separation. So I do not know, where to go, whom to speak to, what to do, or what expedient I must have recourse to, since my heart is fixed on one hard to obtain."

When the princess said this, her friend answered her, "My dear, this attachment of your mind is quite becoming and suitable; your union would certainly be to the enhancement of one another's beauty, as the union of the digit of the new moon with the hair of Siva matted into the form of a diadem. And do not be despondent about this matter: of a truth he will not be able to live without you; did you not see that he was affected in the same way as yourself? Even women, who see you, [699] are so much in love with your beauty that they desire to become men; so what man would not be a suitor for your hand? Much more will he be, who is equal to you in beauty. Do you suppose that Siva, who declared that you should be man and wife, can say what is false? However, what afflicted one feels quite patient about an object much desired, even though it is soon to be attained? So cheer up! He will soon become your husband. It is not hard for you to win any husband, but all men must feel that you are a prize hard to win."

When the princess's attendant said this to her, she answered her, "My friend, though I know all this, what am I to do? My heart cannot endure to remain for a moment without that lord of my life, to whom it is devoted, and Cupid will not bear to be trifled with any further. For when I think of him, my mind is immediately refreshed, [700] but my limbs burn, and my breath seems to leave my body with glowing heat."

Even as the princess was saying this, she, being soft as a flower, fell fainting with distraction into the arms of that friend of hers. Then her weeping friend gradually brought her round by sprinkling her with water and fanning her with plantain-leaves. Her friend employed with her the usual remedies of a necklace and bracelet of lotus-fibres, a moist anointing with sandal-wood unguent, and a bed of lotus-leaves; but these contracted heat by coming in contact with her body, and seemed by their heating and withering to feel the same pain as she felt.

Then Padmávatí, in her agitation, said to that friend, "Why do you weary yourself in vain? My suffering cannot be alleviated in this way. It would be a happy thing, if you would take the only step likely to alleviate it." When she said this in her pain, her friend answered her, "What would not I do for your sake? Tell me, my friend, what that step is."

When the princess heard this, she said with difficulty, as if ashamed, "Go, my dear friend, and bring my beloved here quickly; for in no other way can my suffering be allayed, and my father will not be angry; on the contrary, as soon as he comes here, he will give me to him." When her friend heard that, she said to her in a tone of decision, "If it be so, recover your self-command. This is but a little matter. Here am I, my friend, setting out for Chandrapura the famous and splendid city of Chandraketu the king of the Vidyádharas, the father of your beloved, to bring your beloved to you. Be comforted! What is the use of grief?"

When the princess had been thus comforted by Manoháriká, she said, "Then rise up, my friend, may your journey be prosperous! Go at once! And you must say courteously from me to that heroic lord of my life, who delivered the three worlds, 'When you delivered me so triumphantly in that temple of Gaurí from the danger of the Rákshasís, how is that you do not deliver me now, when I am being slain by the god Cupid, the destroyer of women? Tell me, my lord, what kind of virtue is this in persons like yourself able to deliver the worlds--to neglect in calamity one whom you formerly saved, though she is devoted to you.' [701] This is what you must say, auspicious one, or something to this effect as your own wisdom may direct." When Padmávatí had said this, she sent that friend on her errand. And she mounted a bird which her magic knowledge brought to her, to carry her, and set out for that city of the Vidyádharas.

And then Padmávatí, having to a certain extent recovered her spirits by hope, took the painting-tablet, and entered the palace of her father. There she went into her own apartment surrounded by her servants, and bathed and worshipped Siva with intense devotion, and thus prayed to him, "Holy one, without thy favouring consent no wish, great or small, is fulfilled for any one in these three worlds. So if thou wilt not give me for a husband that noble son of the emperor of the Vidyádharas, on whom I have set my heart, I will abandon my body in front of thy image."

When she addressed this prayer to Siva, her attendants were filled with grief and astonishment, and said to her, "Why do you speak thus, princess, regardless of your body's weal? Is there anything in these three worlds difficult for you to obtain? Even Buddha would forget his self-restraint, if loved by you. So he must be a man of exceptional merit, whom you thus love." When the princess heard this, carried away by the thought of his virtues, she said, "How can I help loving him, who is the only refuge of Indra and the rest of the gods, who alone destroyed the army of the Asuras, as the sun destroys the darkness, and who saved my life?" Saying such things, she remained there full of longing, engaged in conversation about her beloved with her confidential attendants.

In the meanwhile her friend Manoháriká, travelling at full speed, reached Chandrapura, that city of the king of the Vidyádharas; which Visvakarman made wonderful, and of unparalleled magnificence, as if dissatisfied with the city of the gods, though of that also he was the architect. There she searched for Muktáphalaketu, but could not find him, and then, riding on her bird, she went to the garden belonging to that city. She derived much pleasure from looking at that garden, the magic splendour of which was inconceivable; the trees of which were of glittering jewels, and had this peculiarity that one tree produced a great many flowers of different kinds; which was rendered charming by the blending of the notes of various birds with the sound of heavenly songs; and which was full of many slabs of precious stone.

And then, various gardeners, in the form of birds, saw her, and came up to her, speaking with articulate voice, and addressing her kindly, and they invited her to sit down on a slab of emerald at the foot of a párijáta-tree, and when she was seated, served her with appropriate luxuries. And she received that attention gratefully, and said to herself, "Wonderful are the magic splendours of the princes of the Vidyádharas, since they possess such a garden in which enjoyments present themselves unlooked for, in which the servants are birds, and the nymphs of heaven keep up a perpetual concert." When she had said this to herself, she questioned those attendants, and at last, searching about, she found a thicket of párijáta and other trees of the kind, and in it she saw Muktáphalaketu appearing to be ill, [702] lying on a bed of flowers sprinkled with sandal-wood juice. And she recognized him, as she had become acquainted with him in the hermitage of Gaurí, and she said to herself, "Let me see what his illness is, that he is lying here concealed."

In the meanwhile Muktáphalaketu began to say to his friend Samyataka, who was attempting to restore him with ice, and sandal-wood, and fanning, "Surely this god of love has placed hot coals in the ice for me, and in the sandal-wood juice a flame of chaff, and in the air of the fan a fire as of a burning forest, since he produces a scorching glow on every side of me, who am tortured with separation. So why, my friend, do you weary yourself in vain? In this garden, which surpasses Nandana, even the delightful songs and dances and other sports of heavenly nymphs afflict my soul. And without Padmávatí, the lotus-faced, the daughter of Padmasekhara, this fever produced by the arrows of love cannot be alleviated. But I do not dare to say this, and I do not find a refuge in any one; indeed I know only of one expedient for obtaining her. I will go to the temple of Gaurí, where I saw my beloved, and where she tore out my heart with the arrows of her sidelong glances, and carried it away. There Siva, who is united with the daughter of the king of mountains, will, when propitiated with penance, shew me how to become united with my beloved."

When the prince had said this, he was preparing to rise up, and then Manoháriká, being much pleased, shewed herself; and Samyataka, delighted, said to that prince, "My friend, you are in luck; your desire is accomplished. Look! here is that beloved's female attendant come to you. I beheld her at the side of the princess in the hermitage of the goddess Ambiká." Then the prince, beholding the friend of his beloved, was in a strange state, a state full of the bursting forth of joy, astonishment, and longing. And when she came near him, a rain of nectar to his eyes, he made her sit by his side, and asked her about the health of his beloved.

Then she gave him this answer, "No doubt my friend will be well enough, when you become her husband; but at present she is afflicted. For ever since she saw you, and you robbed her of her heart, she has been despondent, and neither hears nor sees. The maiden has left off her necklace, and wears a chain of lotus-fibres; and has abandoned her couch, and rolls on a bed of lotus-leaves. Best of conquerors, I tell you, her limbs, now white with the sandal-wood juice which is drying up with their heat, seem laughingly [703] to say, 'That very maiden, who formerly was too bashful to endure the mention of a lover [704], is now reduced to this sad condition by being separated from her dear one.' And she sends you this message." Having said so much, Manoháriká recited the two verses which Padmávatí had put into her mouth.

When Muktáphalaketu heard all that, his pain departed, and he joyfully welcomed Manoháriká, and said to her, "This my mind has been irrigated by your speech, as by nectar, and is refreshed; and I have recovered my spirits, and got rid of my languor: my good deeds in a former life have to-day borne fruit, in that that daughter of the Gandharva king is so well-disposed towards me. But, though I might possibly be able to endure the agony of separation, how could that lady, whose body is as delicate as a sirísha-flower, endure it? So I will go to that very hermitage of Gaurí; and do you bring your friend there, in order that we may meet at once. And go quickly, auspicious one, and comfort your friend, and give her this crest-jewel, which puts a stop to all grief, which the Self-existent gave me, when pleased with me. And this necklace, which Indra gave me, is a present for yourself." When the prince had said this, he gave her the crest-jewel from his head, and he took the necklace from his neck, and put it on hers.

Then Manoháriká was delighted, and she bowed before him, and set out, mounted on her bird, to find her friend Padmávatí. And Muktáphalaketu, his languor having been removed by delight, quickly entered his own city with Samyataka.

And Manoháriká, when she came into the presence of Padmávatí, told her of the love-pain of her beloved, as she had witnessed it, and repeated to her his speech, sweet and tender with affection, as she had heard it; and told her of the arrangement to meet her in the hermitage of Gaurí, which he had made, and then gave her the crest-jewel which he had sent, and shewed her the chain which he had given herself as a present. Then Padmávatí embraced and honoured that friend of hers who had been so successful; and forgot that pain of the fire of love which had tortured her before, and she fastened that crest-jewel on her head, as if it were joy, and began to prepare to go to the wood of Gaurí.

In the meanwhile it happened that a hermit, of the name of Tapodhana, came to that grove of Gaurí, with his pupil, named Dridhavrata. And while there, the hermit said to his pupil Dridhavrata, "I will engage in contemplation for a time in this heavenly garden. You must remain at the gate, and not let any one in, and after I have finished my contemplation, I will worship Párvatí." When the hermit had said this, he placed that pupil at the gate of the garden, and began to engage in contemplation under a párijáta-tree. After he rose up from his contemplation, he went into the temple to worship Ambiká, but he did not tell his pupil, who was at the gate of the garden.

And in the meanwhile Muktáphalaketu came there adorned, with Samyataka, mounted on a heavenly camel. And as he was about to enter that garden, that pupil of the hermit forbade him, saying, "Do not do so! My spiritual superior is engaged in contemplation within." But the prince, longing to see his beloved, said to himself, "The area of this garden is extensive, and it is possible that she may have arrived and may be somewhere within it, whereas the hermit is only in one corner of it." So he got out of sight of that hermit's pupil, and with his friend entered the garden by flying through the air.

And while he was looking about, the hermit's pupil came in to see if his spiritual superior had completed his meditation. He could not see his superior there, but he did see the noble Muktáphalaketu with his friend, who had entered the garden by a way by which it was not meant to be entered. Then that pupil of the hermit cursed the prince in his anger, saying to him, "As you have interrupted the meditation of my spiritual guide, and driven him away, go with your friend to the world of men on account of this disrespect." After he had pronounced this curse, he went in search of his superior. But Muktáphalaketu was thrown into great despondency by this curse having fallen on him like a thunderbolt, when his desire was on the point of being fulfilled. And in the meanwhile, Padmávatí, eager to meet her beloved, came mounted on a bird, with Manoháriká and her other attendants. And when the prince saw that lady, who had come to meet him of her own accord, but was now separated from him by a curse, he was reduced to a painful frame of mind in which sorrow and joy were blended. And at that very moment Padmávatí's right eye throbbed, boding evil fortune, and her heart fluttered. Then the princess, seeing that her lover was despondent, thought that he might be annoyed because she had not come before he did, and approached him with an affectionate manner. Then the prince said to her, "My beloved, our desire, though on the point of fulfilment, has been again baffled by Fate." She said excitedly, "Alas! how baffled?" And then the prince told her how the curse was pronounced on him.

Then they all went, in their despondency, to entreat the hermit, who was the spiritual guide of him who inflicted the curse, and was now in the temple of the goddess, to fix an end to the curse. When the great hermit, who possessed supernatural insight, saw them approach in humble guise, he said with a kind manner to Muktáphalaketu, "You have been cursed by this fool who acted rashly before he had reflected; [705] however you have not done me any harm, since I rose up of myself. And this curse can only be an instrument, not the real reason of your change; in truth you have in your mortal condition to do the gods a service. You shall come in the course of destiny to behold this Padmávatí, and sick with love, you shall abandon your mortal body, and be quickly released from your curse. And you shall recover this lady of your life, wearing the same body that she wears now; for being a deliverer of the universe, you do not deserve to lie long under a curse. And the cause of all this that has befallen you is the slight stain of unrighteousness which attaches to you, on account of your having slain with that weapon of Brahmá, which you employed, old men and children."

When Padmávatí heard this, she said, with tears in her eyes, to that sage, "Holy Sir, let me now have the same lot as my future husband! I shall not be able to live for a moment without him." When Padmávatí made this request, the hermit said to her, "This cannot be: do you remain here for the present engaged in asceticism, in order that he may be quickly delivered from his curse, and may marry you. And then, as the consort of that Muktáphalaketu, you shall rule the Vidyádharas and Asuras for ten kalpas. And while you are performing asceticism, this crest-jewel, which be gave you, shall protect you; for it is of great efficacy, having sprung from the water-pot of the Disposer."

When the hermit, possessing divine insight, had said this to Padmávatí, Muktáphalaketu, bending low, addressed this prayer to him, "Holy Sir, may my faith in Siva be unwavering during my life as a man, and may my mind never be inclined to any lady but Padmávatí." The hermit replied, "So let it be!" and then Padmávatí, sorely grieved, pronounced on that pupil, whose fault had entailed these misfortunes, the following curse, "Since you cursed in your folly my destined husband, you shall be a vehicle for him to ride on in his human condition, possessing the property of going with a wish and changing your shape at will." When the pupil had been thus cursed, he was despondent, and then the hermit Tapodhana disappeared with him.

Then Muktáphalaketu said to Padmávatí, "I will now go to my city, and see what will happen to me there." When Padmávatí heard this, being terrified at separation, she at once fell on the earth with all her ornaments, as a creeper, broken by the wind, falls with all its flowers. And Muktáphalaketu comforted, as well as he could, his crying love, and departed with his friend, frequently turning round his eyes to look at her. And after he was gone, Padmávatí was much grieved, and weeping, said to her friend Manoháriká, who tried to comfort her, "My friend, I am certain that I saw the goddess Párvatí to-day in a dream, and she was about to throw a garland of lotuses round my neck, when she said, 'Never mind! I will give it you on some future occasion,' and desisted from her intention. So I understand that she wished in this way to let me know that my union with my beloved would be hindered." When she was mourning in this way over what had occurred, her friend said to her, "This dream was no doubt sent to you when you say, by the goddess, in order to comfort you. And the hermit said the very same to you, and the gods have clearly thus ordained: so, be of good cheer, you will soon be reunited with your beloved."

This and other speeches from her friend, and the magic efficacy of the crest-jewel made Padmávatí recover her self-command, and she remained there in the hermitage of Gaurí. And she performed asceticism, worshipping there Siva and Párvatí, three times a day, and also the picture of her beloved, which she had brought from her own city, looking upon it as the image of a divinity. Her parents, hearing what had taken place, came to her in tears, and tried to prevent her, saying, "Do not uselessly fatigue yourself with penance, to bring about a desired end, which will anyhow take place." But she said to them, "How could I live here with any comfort, now that the husband recently appointed for me by the god has fallen into misery owing to a curse? For to ladies of good family a husband is a god. And no doubt, this calamity may soon be brought to an end by austerities, and Siva may be propitiated, and then I may be reunited with my beloved, for there is nothing [706] that austerities cannot accomplish." When Padmávatí had said this with firm resolution, her mother Kuvalayávalí said to her father the king, "King, let her perform this severe asceticism! Why trouble her further on false grounds? This is appointed for her by destiny: there is a reason for it; listen. Long ago, in the city of Siva, the daughter of the king of the Siddhas, named Devaprabhá, was performing a very severe penance, in order to obtain the husband she desired. Now my daughter Padmávatí had gone there with me to visit the shrine of the god, and she went up to the Siddha maiden and laughed at her, saying, 'Are you not ashamed to practise austerities in order to obtain a husband?' Then the Siddha maiden cursed her in her rage, saying, 'Fool! your laughter proceeds from childishness: you also shall perform painful austerities to your heart's content to obtain a husband.' Accordingly she must of necessity endure the misery which the curse of the Siddha maiden has entailed; who can alter that? So let her do what she is doing?" When the queen had said this to the king of the Gandharvas, he took leave at last, though reluctantly, of his daughter, who bowed at his feet, and went to his own city. And Padmávatí remained in that hermitage of Párvatí, intent on religious observances and prayers, and every day she went through the air and worshipped that Siddhísvara, that was worshipped by Brahmá and the other gods, of which Siva had told her in a dream.

Chapter CXVIII

While Padmávatí was engaged in asceticism, in order that she might be reunited to Muktáphalaketu, the son of the emperor of the Vidyádharas, that prince, feeling that his descent into the world of men was nigh at hand owing to the curse of the Bráhman, in his fear, fled to Siva as a refuge.

And while he was worshipping Siva, he heard a voice issue from the inner cell of his temple, "Fear not, for thou shalt not have to endure misery while dwelling in the womb, and thou shalt not have to suffer during thy life as a mortal, nor shalt thou long remain in that condition. [707] Thou shalt be born as a strong and valorous prince. Thou shalt obtain from the hermit Tapodhana the control of all weapons, and my Gana named Kinkara shall be thy younger brother. With his help thou shalt conquer thy enemies, and accomplish the required service for the gods, and thou shalt be reunited with Padmávatí and rule the Vidyádharas." When that prince had heard this voice, he conceived hope, and remained waiting for the ripening, so to speak, of the fruit of the curse pronounced upon him.

At this point of my story there was a city in the eastern region named Devasabha, that surpassed in splendour the court of the gods. In it there lived a universal monarch named Merudhvaja, the comrade of Indra when war arose between the gods and Asuras. That great-hearted prince was greedy of glory, not of the goods of others; his sword was sharp, but not his punishments; he feared sin, but not his enemy. His brows were sometimes curved in anger, but there was no crookedness in his heart. His arm was hard, where it was marked with the horny thickening produced by the bowstring, but there was no hardness in his speech. He spared his helpless enemies in battle, but he did not exhibit any mean parsimony with regard to his treasure; [708] and he took pleasure in virtuous deeds and not in women.

That king had always two anxieties in his heart, the first was that not even one son was as yet born to him, the second was that the Asuras, who escaped from the slaughter in the great fight long ago between the gods and Asuras, and fled to Pátála, kept continually sallying out to a distance from it, and treacherously destroying holy places, temples, and hermitages in his land, and then retiring into Pátála again; and the king could not catch them, as they could move through the air as well as through Pátála; that afflicted the brave monarch, though he had no rivals upon earth.

It happened that once, when he was afflicted with these anxieties, he went to the assembly of the gods, on the day of the full moon in the month Chaitra, in Indra's splendid chariot, which he sent to fetch him; for Indra always held a general assembly in the early part of that day, and king Merudhvaja always went to it in his chariot. But on that occasion the king kept sighing, though he was amused with the dances and songs of the heavenly nymphs, and honoured by Indra.

When the king of the gods saw that, knowing what was in his heart, he said to him, "King, I know what thy grief is; dismiss it from thy mind. One son shall be born to thee, who shall be called Muktáphaladhvaja, and shall be a portion of Siva, and a second named Malayadhvaja, who shall be an incarnation of a Gana. Muktáphaladhvaja and his younger brother shall obtain from the hermit Tapodhana the sciences and all weapons and a creature to ride on, that shall possess the power of assuming any shape. And that invincible warrior shall again obtain the great weapon of Pasupati, and shall slay the Asuras, and get into his power the earth and Pátála. And receive from me these two air-going elephants Kánchanagiri and Kánchanasekhara, together with mighty weapons." When Indra had said this to Merudhvaja, he gave him the arms and the elephants, and dismissed him, and he went delighted to his own city on the earth. But those Asuras, who had managed by their treachery to cast discredit upon the king, escaped being caught by him, even when mounted on the sky-going elephant, for they took refuge in Pátála.

Then the king, desiring a son, went, on his heavenly elephant, to the hermitage of that hermit Tapodhana, of whom Indra had told him. There he approached that hermit, and told him that command of Indra, and said to him, "Reverend Sir, quickly tell me what course I ought to take to gain my end." And the hermit recommended that the king and his wife should immediately take upon them a vow for the propitiation of Siva, in order that they might attain their end. The king then proceeded to propitiate Siva with that vow, and then that god, being pleased, said to the king in a dream, "Rise up, king, thou shalt soon [709] obtain one after another two invincible sons for the destruction of the Asuras." When the king had heard this, he told it to the hermit when he woke up in the morning, and after he and his wife had broken their fast, he returned to his own city.

Then that august and beautiful lady, the queen of Merudhvaja, became pregnant within a few days. And Muktáphalaketu was in some mysterious way conceived in her, having been compelled by the curse to abandon his Vidyádhara body. And that body of his remained in his own city of Chandrapura, guarded by his relations, kept by magic from corrupting.

So the queen of king Merudhvaja, in the city of Devasabha, delighted her husband by becoming pregnant. And the more the queen was oppressed by her condition, the more sprightly was her husband the king. And when the time came, she gave birth to a boy resembling the sun, who, though an infant, was of great might, even as Párvatí gave birth to the god of war. And then not only did rejoicing take place over the whole earth, but in the heaven also in which the gods struck their drums. And the hermit Tapodhana, who possessed heavenly insight, came there in person, to congratulate that king Merudhvaja. With the help of that hermit, the rejoicing king gave his son the name Muktáphaladhvaja mentioned by Indra.

Then the hermit departed; but after the lapse of a year a second son was born to the king by that queen, and the king, with the help of that hermit, who, in the same way, came there out of joy, named him Malayadhvaja.

Then Samyataka was born as the son of the king's minister in accordance with the curse, and his father gave him the name of Mahábuddhi. Then those two princes gradually grew up, like lions' whelps, with that minister's son, and as they grew, their might developed also.

And after eight years only had passed, the hermit Tapodhana came and invested those princes with the sacred thread. And during eight more years he instructed them [710] in knowledge, and in the accomplishments, and in the use of all the mighty weapons. Then king Merudhvaja, seeing that his sons were young men, able to fight with all weapons, considered that he had not lived in vain.

Then the hermit was about to return to his hermitage, but the king said to him, "Reverend Sir, now take whatever present you desire." The great sage answered, "This is the present I desire from you, king, that, with your sons, you would slay the Asuras that impede my sacrifices. The king said to him, "Then, reverend sir, you must now take your present; so begin a sacrifice; the Asuras will come to impede it, and then I will come with my sons. For formerly those Daityas, after they had treacherously wrought you wrong, used to fly up into the air, and dive into the sea, and go to Pátála. But now I have two air-going elephants given me by Indra, by means of those two I and my sons will catch them, even if they do fly through the air."

When the hermit heard that, he was pleased and he said to the king, "Then do you make in the mean time fit preparation for my sacrifice, in order that I may go and begin a long sacrificial session that will be famous in every corner of the earth. And I will send you, as a messenger, this my pupil Dridhavrata, who has acquired the shape of an unrestrained mighty bird going with a wish; and on him shall Muktáphaladhvaja ride."

When the hermit had said this, he returned to his hermitage, and the king sent after him the preparations for the sacrifice. With those he began a sacrifice, at which the gods and rishis assembled in a body, and the Dánavas, dwelling in Pátála, were excited when they heard of it.

When the hermit knew that, he sent his pupil Dridhavrata, who had been made by the curse to assume the form of a bird, to the city of Devasabha. When king Merudhvaja saw him arrive there, he remembered the words of the hermit, and got ready those two heavenly elephants. And he himself mounted the chief one, which was named Kánchanagiri, and the lesser one, which was named Kánchanasekhara, he gave to the younger of his sons. But Muktáphaladhvaja, taking with him the heavenly weapons, mounted the great bird Dridhavrata, and the bards hailed him with songs. Then those three heroes sent their armies on in front, and set forth, mounted on air-going steeds, and blessed by holy Bráhmans. And when they reached the hermitage, the hermit, being pleased with them, granted them this boon, that they should be invulnerable by all weapons.

In the meanwhile the army of the Asuras came to impede the sacrifice, and the soldiers of Merudhvaja, when they saw the Asuras, charged them with a shout. Then a battle took place between the Daityas and the men, but the Daityas, being in the air, pressed sore the men who were on the ground. Then Muktáphaladhvaja, mounted on his winged steed, rushed forward, and cut and crushed the Daityas with a shower of arrows. And those Daityas who escaped his destroying hand, seeing him mounted on a bird, and resplendent with brightness, took to flight, supposing that he was Náráyana. And all of them fled in fear to Pátála, and told what had happened to Trailokyamálin, who was at that time king of the Daityas.

When the king of the Asuras heard that, he quickly enquired into the matter by means of his spies, and found out that Muktáphaladhvaja was a mortal; and unable to endure the disgrace of having been defeated by a man, he collected all the Dánavas in Pátála, and though warned by omens to desist, he went to that hermitage to fight. But Muktáphaladhvaja and his men, who were on the alert there, rushed to attack the king of the Dánavas, as soon as they saw him arrive with his army. Then a second great battle took place between the Asuras and the men; and the gods, headed by Rudra and Indra, came in their chariots to witness it.

And then Muktáphaladhvaja saw instantly presenting itself before him there a great weapon of Pasupati, of irresistible might, of huge size, with a flame of fire streaming up from it, with three eyes, with four faces, with one leg, and eight arms, looking like the fire which is to burn up the world at the end of the kalpa. The weapon said, "Know that I have come by the command of Siva, to ensure your victory." When the weapon said this, the prince worshipped it and clutched it.

In the meanwhile those Asuras in the air, raining arrows, pressed hard the fainting army of Merudhvaja that was below them. Then Muktáphaladhvaja, who fought in various manners, came to deliver that army and fought with the Asuras, placing a net of arrows between them and his own men.

And when Trailokyamálin, the king of the Asuras, saw him and his father and brother, mounted on their air-going steeds, he sent forth the snake-weapon. Innumerable terrible venomous snakes came out of it, and these Malayadhvaja slew with Garuda-birds, that came out of the Garuda-weapon. Then Muktáphalaketu repelled with case every weapon that the king of the Daityas and his son sent forth.

Then that enemy of the gods, and his son, and the other Dánavas were enraged, and they all at one time launched at him their fiery weapons. But those weapons, seeing the weapon of Pasupati blazing in front of him, were immediately terrified and fled.

Then the Daityas were terrified and tried to escape, but the hero Muktáphaladhvaja perceived their intention, and immediately constructed above them, and on all sides of them, an impenetrable net of arrows, like a cage of adamant. And while the Dánavas were circling within this, like birds, Muktáphaladhvaja with the help of his father and brother, smote them with sharp arrows. And the severed hands, feet, bodies, and heads of those Daityas fell on the ground, and streams of blood [711] flowed. Then the gods exclaimed "Bravo!" and followed up their acclamation with a rain of flowers, and Muktáphaladhvaja used the bewildering weapon against those enemies. That made the Asuras and their king fall senseless on the earth, and then by means of the weapon of Varuna the prince bound them all with nooses.

Then the hermit Tapodhana said to king Merudhvaja, "You must by no means kill those Asura warriors that have escaped the slaughter: but you must win them over and enter Rasátala with them. As for this king of the Daityas, and his son, and his ministers, you must take them with the great Asuras, and the malignant Nágas, and the principal Rákshasas, and imprison them in the cave of Svetasaila in Devasabha." [712] When the hermit had said this to Merudhvaja, he said to the Daitya warriors, "Do not be afraid, we must not slay you, but you must henceforth be subject to the sway of this Muktáphaladhvaja and his brother." When the king said this to the Dánavas, they joyfully consented to his proposal. Then the king had Trailokyamálin, the sovereign of the Daityas, with his son and the others, conveyed to Svetasaila. And he placed them in confinement in that cave, and had them guarded by his principal minister, who was backed by a force of many brave warriors.

Then, the battle having come to an end, and the gods, who were present in their chariots, having departed, after showering mandára flowers, an universal rejoicing took place over the whole world, and the victorious king Merudhvaja said to his two sons, "I will remain here for the present to guard the sacrifice, and do you march to Pátála with these soldiers of ours, who have possessed themselves of many chariots belonging to the Daityas, and with those soldiers of the Asura army who have escaped destruction. And conciliate and win over to our allegiance the inhabitants of Pátála, and appoint chief governors throughout the territory, and having thus taken possession of it you must return here."

When the heroic Muktáphaladhvaja, who was mounted on his heavenly steed, that went with a wish, and Malayadhvaja heard this, the two brothers, with their forces, entered Rasátala, together with that portion of the army of the Dánavas, that had made submission, which marched in front of them. And they killed the guards that opposed them in various places, and proclaimed an amnesty to the others by beat of drum. And, as the people shewed confidence and were submissive, they took possession of the seven Rasátalas, adorned with splendid palaces [713] built of various jewels, and they enjoyed those palaces which were rendered delightful by gardens that gratified every wish, and had in them lakes of heavenly wine with many ladders of precious stone. And there they beheld Dánava ladies of wonderful beauty, and their daughters, who by means of magic concealed their forms within trees.

And then Svayamvaraprabhá, the wife of Trailokyamálin, began austerities in order to bring about the welfare of her imprisoned husband, and in the same way her daughters, Trailokyaprabhá and Tribhuvanaprabhá, began austerities for the welfare of their father.

And those princes honoured with various favours all the inhabitants of Pátála, who were happy now that they had obtained repose; and they appointed Sangrámasinha and others governors, and went to their father in the hermitage of Tapodhana.

And in the meanwhile the sacrifice of the hermit there reached completion, and the gods and the rishis prepared to go to their own abodes. [714] And as Indra was exceedingly pleased, Merudhvaja said to him, "Come with me to my city, king of heaven, if thou be pleased with me." When Indra heard that, he went, in order to please him, with the king and his son to the city of Devasabha, after taking leave of the hermit. And there the king, who was sovereign of two worlds, entertained Indra so sumptuously, that he forgot his happiness in heaven. Then Indra too, being gratified, took the king and his sons in his own heavenly chariot to his celestial abode, and in that place which was charming with the pleasures of a concert in which Nárada, Rambhá and others performed, he made Merudhvaja, with Muktáphaladhvaja and Malayadhvaja, forget their toils, and gave them garlands from the Párijáta-tree, and celestial diadems, and after honouring them, sent them home.

And they, when they returned, kept going to and fro between the earth and Pátála, and though kings of men, bare sway in two worlds. Then Merudhvaja said to Muktáphaladhvaja, "Our enemies are conquered; you two brothers are young men, and I have various princesses who are subject to my sway, and I have sent for some of them: the fitting time has come; so take to yourselves wives."

When Muktáphaladhvaja's father said this to him, he answered, "Father, my mind is not inclined to marriage at present. I will now perform a course of austerities to propitiate [715] Siva; but let this Malayadhvaja my dear younger brother, be married." When his younger brother Malayadhvaja heard this, he said, "Noble brother, is it fitting that I should be married, before you have taken a wife, or that I should hold sway while you are without a kingdom? I follow in your footsteps."

When Malayadhvaja said this, king Merudhvaja said to his eldest son Muktáphaladhvaja, "Your younger brother here has spoken rightly, but what you have just said is not right; it is no time for asceticism in this fresh youth of yours; the present should be to you a time of enjoyment; so abandon, my son, this perverse crotchet of yours, which is most inopportune." Though the king addressed these admonitions to his eldest son, that prince resolutely refused to take a wife: so the king remained silent, to wait for a more favourable time.

In the meanwhile, in Pátála, the two daughters of Trailokyamálin's wife, Svayamprabhá, who were engaged in austerities, said to their mother, "Mother, when one of us was seven and the other eight years old, owing to our want of merits, [716] our father was imprisoned, and we were hurled from the royal rank. It is now the eighth year, that we have been engaged in austerities, and yet Siva is not pleased with us, and our father has not, as yet, been released from his imprisonment. So let us even consume these unlucky bodies in the fire, before we also are imprisoned, or experience some other insult at the hands of our enemy."

When Svayamprabhá's daughters said this to her, she answered them, "Wait a while, my daughters, we shall regain our former glory. For I know that, while I was engaged in austerities, the god Siva said to me in a dream, 'My child, be of good courage; thy husband shall recover his kingdom, and the princes Muktáphaladhvaja and Malayadhvaja shall be the husbands of thy two daughters. And do not suppose that they are men; for one of them is a noble Vidyádhara, and the other is a Gana of mine.' When I had received this revelation from Siva, I woke up at the close of night; and supported by this hope I have borne great suffering. So I will inform the king your father of this matter, and with his consent, I will endeavour to bring about your marriage."

When the queen Svayamprabhá had in these words comforted her daughters, she said to Indumatí, an old woman of the harem, "Go to my husband in the cave of Svetasaila, and fall at his feet, and say to him from me, 'My husband, the Creator has formed me of such strange wood, that, though the fire of separation from you burns fiercely, I have not yet been consumed by it. But it is because I entertain a hope of seeing you again that I have not abandoned life.' When you have said this, tell him the revelation that Siva made to me in a dream, then ask him about the marriage of our daughters, and come back, and tell me what he says; I will then act accordingly."

When she had said this, she sent off Indumatí; and she left Pátála and reached the well-guarded entrance of that mountain-cave. She entreated the guards and entered, and seeing Trailokyamálin there a prisoner, she burst into tears, and embraced his feet; and when he asked her how she was, she slowly told him all his wife's message; then that king said, "As for what Siva says about my restoration to my kingdom, may that turn out as the god announced, but the idea of my giving my daughters to the sons of Merudhvaja is preposterous. I would rather perish here than give my daughters as a present to enemies and men too, while myself a prisoner."

When Indumatí had been sent away by the king with this message, she went and delivered it to his wife Svayamprabhá. And when Trailokyaprabhá and Tribhuvanaprabhá the daughters of the Daitya sovereign heard it, they said to their mother Svayamprabhá, "Anxiety lest our youthful purity should be outraged makes the fire seem our only place of safety, so we will enter it, mother, on the fourteenth day, that is now approaching." When they had thus resolved, their mother and her suite also made up their minds to die. And when the fourteenth day arrived, they all worshipped Hátakesvara, and made pyres in a holy bathing-place called Páparipu.

Now it happened that on that very day king Merudhvaja, with his son, and his wife, was coming there to worship Hátakesvara. And as he was going to the holy water of Páparipu, with his suite, to bathe, he saw smoke rising from the midst of a grove on its bank. And when the king asked, "How comes smoke to be rising here?" those governors he had set over Pátála, Sangrámasinha and the others, said to him, "Great king, Svayamprabhá, the wife of Trailokyamálin, is engaged in austerities here with her daughters the princesses. Without doubt they are now performing here some sacrificial rite in honour of the fire, or possibly they are wearied out with excessive asceticism, and are immolating themselves by entering it."

When the king heard that, he went to see what was going on, with his sons, and his wife, and those governors of Pátála, ordering the rest of his suite to remain behind. And concealing himself there, he beheld those Daitya maidens, with their mother, worshipping the fire of the pyres, which was burning brightly. [717] They seemed with the effulgence of the great beauty of their faces which shone out in all directions, to be creating in the lower world a hundred discs of the moon: and to be installing the god of love as king after the conquest of the three worlds, with their swiftly-moving necklaces that looked like liquid streams poured down from the golden pitchers of their breasts. Their broad hips, surrounded with the girdles which they wore, looked like the head of the elephant of love adorned with a girdle of constellations. The long wavy masses of hair which they bore, seemed like snakes made by the Creator to guard the treasure of their beauty. When the king saw them, he was astonished, and he said, "The creation of the Maker of All is surprising for the novelty that is ever being manifested in it: [718] for neither Rambhá, nor Urvasí, nor Tilottamá is equal in beauty to these two daughters of the Asura king."

While the king was making these reflections to himself, Trailokyaprabhá, the elder of the two Daitya maidens, after worshipping the god present in the Fire, addressed this prayer to him, "Since, from the time that my mother told me of the revelation of Siva received by her in a dream, my mind has been fixed upon prince Muktáphaladhvaja, that treasure-house of virtue, as my chosen husband, I pray, holy one, that he may be my husband in a future birth, inasmuch as, though in this birth my mother wishes to give me to him, my haughty father, being a captive, will not consent to it." When Tribhuvanaprabhá heard that, she, in the same way, prayed to the Fire-god that Malayadhvaja might be her husband in a future life.

Then king Merudhvaja, who was delighted at hearing that, and the queen his wife said to one another, "If our two sons could obtain these two maidens for their wives, they would reap fruit from their conquest of the two worlds. So let us go to them and their mother, before they have cast themselves into the fire, as they intend to do in a moment, and dissuade them from doing so." When the king, in consultation with the queen, had made up his mind to this, he went up to them, and said, "Do not act rashly: for I will put a stop to your sorrow." When all the Asura ladies heard this speech of the king's, that seemed like a rain of nectar to their ears, and afterwards saw him, they all bowed before him.

And Svayamprabhá said to him, "Before we were concealed by magic, and you did not see us, though we saw you, but now we have been seen here by you, the sovereign of the two worlds. And now that we have been seen by you, our sorrow will soon come to an end; much more since you have bestowed on us by your own mouth a boon we never craved; so take a seat and receive the arghya and water for the feet. [719] For you deserve to be honoured by the three worlds; and this is our hermitage." When she said this, the king answered laughing, "Give the arghya and water for the feet to these your sons-in-law." Then Svayamprabhá said, "To them the god Siva will give the arghya and soon, but do you receive it to-day." Then Merudhvaja said, "I have already received it all; but do you, ladies, immediately give up your intention of committing suicide; and go and dwell in one of your cities where every wish can be gratified; then I will take steps to ensure your welfare."

When the king said this, Svayamprabhá said to him, "In accordance with your Majesty's order we have given up our intention of abandoning the body, but while our lord is in prison, how would it be becoming for us to live in our palace? So we will remain here, king, for the present, until your Highness shall perform the promise which you spontaneously made to us, and shall cause our lord to be set free with his servants and ministers. And he will hold sway as your Majesty's zealous officer, and will make over his realm to you if you desire it; indeed he will make a strict agreement [720] with you to this effect. And for this we and all the inhabitants of Pátála will be your sureties, so take our jewels from the regions of Pátála, and make them your own."

When she said this, king Merudhvaja said to her, "I will see about that, but you must remember your promise." When the king had said this, he bathed and worshipped Hátakesa. And those Daitya princesses, having now seen his sons with their own eyes, had their minds entirely fixed on them. Then all the inhabitants of Rasátala [721] fell at the feet of the virtuous king Merudhvaja, and asked that Trailokyamálin should be set at liberty; and then king Merudhvaja, with his wife, sons, and servants, left the world of the Asuras, and returned to his own city, covering the regions with his umbrellas white as his own glory. There his son Malayadhvaja spent the night in thinking on the younger daughter of the king of the Dánavas, being tortured with the fever of love, and though he closed his eyes, he never slept. But that sea of self-control Muktáphaladhvaja, though he thought upon the elder daughter of the Asura monarch who was deeply in love with him, and though he was young, and she was fair enough to shake with love the saintly minds of anchorites, still in virtue of the boon he had craved from the hermit, was no whit disturbed in mind. But Merudhvaja, finding that his elder son was determined not to take a wife, while Malayadhvaja was desperately in love, and that on the other hand that great Asura was averse to giving him his daughters, remained with his mind bewildered as to how to devise an expedient.

Chapter CXIX

Then king Merudhvaja, seeing that Malayadhvaja was thus overpowered with the fever of love, said to his queen, "If those two daughters of Trailokyamálin, whom I saw in Pátála, do not become the wives of my two sons, what advantage shall I have gained? And my son Malayadhvaja is consumed with smouldering flame, because he cannot obtain the younger of the two, though shame makes him conceal the fire of love. It is for this very reason that, though I promised Trailokyamálin's queen that I would set him at liberty, I do not at once make my promise good. For, if he is set free from his imprisonment, his pride as an Asura will prevent his ever giving his daughters to my sons as being men. So it is now advisable to propose this matter to him in a conciliatory manner."

When he had gone through these reflections with the queen, he said to his warder, "Go to the cave of Svetasaila, and say, as from me, in a kind manner to Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, who is imprisoned there, 'King of the Daityas, by the appointment of Destiny you have been long afflicted here, so now do what I advise, and bring your affliction to an end. Give to my two sons your two daughters, who fell in love with them at first sight, and thus procure your release, and rule your kingdom, after you have given security for your fidelity.'"

With this message the king sent off his warder, and he went and delivered it to the Daitya monarch in that cave. The monarch answered, "I will not give my two daughters to two men;" and the warder returned and reported his answer to the king.

Then king Merudhvaja began to look about for some other means of attaining his end, and in the course of some days Svayamprabhá heard how he had sped, so she again sent Indumatí from Pátála to his palace with a message.

And Indumatí arrived, and had herself announced by the female warder, and went into the presence of the great queen, who received her graciously. And she bowed before her, and said to her, "Queen, queen Svayamprabhá sends you this message, 'Have you forgotten your own promise? The seas and the principal mountains will suffer change at the day of doom, but the promises of people like you will not change even then. Although my husband has not consented to bestow our daughters as you wished, reflect, how could he have given them as a present while himself a prisoner? If you release him in a proper way as an act of kindness, [722] he will certainly make you a return by giving you his daughters. Otherwise Svayamprabhá and her daughters will abandon their lives, and in this way you will fail to obtain daughters-in-law, and also to keep your promise? So manage, queen, to make the king set our lord free on the conditions of compact and security and so on, in order that all may turn out well; and accept this ornament sent by Svayamprabhá, studded with various gems, that confer the power of becoming a Vidyádhara, and other advantages.'"

When Indumatí said this, the queen answered her, "How can I take this from your mistress now that she is in trouble?" But Indumatí urged her vehemently to take it, saying, "We shall be quite unhappy if you refuse to accept it, but if you take it, we shall consider our affliction alleviated." Being thus strongly urged by Indumatí, the queen took from her that jewelled ornament, to comfort her; and she made her wait there, saying to her, "Remain here, noble lady, until the king shall come this way."

In the meanwhile the king came there, and Indumatí rose up, and having been introduced by the queen, bowed before him, and he received her graciously. And she gave to that king a crest-jewel sent by Svayamprabhá, that was a talisman against poison, Rákshasas, old age, and disease. [723] The king said, "I will accept this jewel when I have kept my promise; but the ready-witted Indumatí said to him, "A promise made by the king is as good as kept. But, if your Majesty will accept this, we shall be very much comforted." When she made this speech, the queen observed, "Well said," and took that crest-jewel, and fastened it on the king's head.

Then Indumatí repeated to the king the message of Svayamprabhá, as she had delivered it to the queen; then the king, being entreated to the same effect by the queen, went on to say to Indumatí, "Remain here for to-day; to-morrow morning I will give you an answer."

Having said this, king Merudhvaja allowed a night to pass, and the next morning he summoned his ministers, and said to Indumatí, "Noble lady, go with these ministers of mine, and after informing Trailokyamálin, bring from Pátála those Asura ladies, Svayamprabhá and the others, and all the principal inhabitants of Pátála, and the water of ordeal connected with Hátakesvara, in a sealed vessel. And let Svayamprabhá and the others touch the feet of Svayamprabhá's husband, in the presence of my ministers, and by solemn oaths make themselves sureties for this, namely, that Trailokyamálin, with his friends and servants, shall ever remain firm in his allegiance to me, and that the Nágas shall not injure the crops. And let all the lords in Pátála be sureties to the same effect, and let them all, with their king, give their children as hostages, [724] and let them all, with their king, put this in writing, and drink the water of ordeal in which the image of Hátakesvara has been washed: then I will release Trailokyamálin from prison."

Having said so much, the king sent off Indumatí with his ministers. She went with them, and informed Trailokyamálin of what was being done, and as he approved of her proceedings, she went in the same way to Pátála, and she brought there Svayamprabhá and the others, and the water of ordeal, [725] and she made them all do in the presence of the king's ministers all that he had prescribed. And when king Trailokyamálin had in this way given security, king Merudhvaja set him free from prison with his suite. And he had brought him to his own palace with his family and his attendants, and courteously entertained him; and then he took possession of all the jewels of the Asuras, and sent Trailokyamálin back to his kingdom. And Trailokyamálin returned to Rasátala his home, and having recovered his kingdom, rejoiced with his servants and relations. And Merudhvaja filled the earth with abundant treasures that came from Pátála, as a rain-cloud showers water.

Then Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, took counsel with his wife, desiring to bestow his two beautiful daughters on Merudhvaja's sons, and he invited him to his palace, with his relations, and came himself to escort him there, remembering the benefit conferred on him. So he came to king Merudhvaja, who entertained him, and then he said to him, "On a former occasion, your great joy prevented your seeing Rasátala properly. But now come and see it, while we give ourselves up to attending on you; and accept from me my two beautiful daughters for your sons."

When the Asura king had said this to Merudhvaja, the latter summoned his wife and his two sons. And he told them the speech of the Asura king, and how he proposed to give his two daughters; then his eldest son Muktáphaladhvaja said to him, "I will not marry until I have propitiated Siva; I said this long ago; you must pardon this fault in me. When I have gone, let Malayadhvaja marry; for he will never be happy without that Pátála maiden." When the younger son heard this, he said to his elder brother, "Noble sir, while you are alive, I will never perform such a disgraceful and unrighteous act." Then king Merudhvaja earnestly exhorted Muktáphaladhvaja to marry, but he would not consent to do so; and therefore Trailokyamálin took leave of the king, who was in a state of despondency, and went back with his suite to Pátála as he had come.

There he told what had taken place and said to his wife and son, "Observe how exclusively bent on humiliating us Fortune is. Those very men, to whom formerly I refused to give my daughters in marriage when they asked for them, now refuse to accept them, though I ask them to do so." When they heard it, they said, "Who can tell how this matter is in the mind of Destiny? Can Siva's promise be falsified?"

While they were saying these things, those maidens, Trailokyaprabhá and Tribhuvanaprabhá, heard what had happened, and took upon them the following vow, "We will remain without food for twelve days, and if at the end of that time the god does not shew us favour by bringing about our marriage, we will enter the fire together, and we will not preserve our bodies for insult, or merely for the sake of continuing in life." When the daughters of the Daitya sovereign had made this vow, they remained fasting in front of the god, engaged in meditation and muttering prayers. And their mother and their father the sovereign of the Daityas, hearing of it, and being very fond of their daughters, remained fasting in the same way.

Then Svayamprabhá their mother quickly sent off Indumatí once more to Merudhvaja's queen consort, to tell her how matters were going. She went and told that queen the trouble in her master's house, and so Merudhvaja also came to hear of it. Then that couple abandoned food out of regard for the other royal couple, and their sons did so as well, out of regard for their parents.

Thus in two worlds the royal families were in trouble. And Muktáphaladhvaja remained without eating, and meditated on Siva as his refuge. And, after six nights had passed, in the morning the prince woke up, and said to his friend Mahábuddhi, who had formerly been Samyataka, "My friend, I remember that last night in a dream I mounted my steed given me by the hermit Tapodhana, that changes its shape at will, and goes where the mind directs, and had become a flying chariot, and, in my despondency I went to a heavenly temple of Siva, very far from here, on the slope of Meru. There I saw a certain celestial maiden emaciated with austerities; and a certain man with matted hair, pointing to her, said to me laughing, 'You have come here in this way to escape from one maiden, and lo! here is another waiting for you.' When I heard this speech of his, I remained gazing at the beauty of that maiden, but found it impossible to gaze my fill, and so at the end of the night I suddenly woke up.

"So I will go there to obtain that heavenly maiden, and if I do not find her there, I will enter the fire. What can Destiny mean, by causing my mind to become attached to this maiden seen in a dream, after rejecting, in the way I did, the Daitya maiden, offered to me a short time ago? At any rate, I am persuaded that, if I go there, good fortune will certainly befall me."

Having said this, he called to mind that vehicle given to him by the hermit, which would carry him to any place conceived in the mind, and assume any desired form. It turned into an air-going chariot, and he mounted it, and set out for that heavenly temple of Siva, and when he reached it, he saw that it was just as it had seemed in his dream, and he rejoiced. Then he proceeded to perform religious ablution with all the attendant rites, in the holy water there, named Siddhodaka, with no one to wait on him but his friend.

Then his father king Merudhvaja, who was in his own city, emaciated with fasting, accompanied by his wife, son, and suite, heard that he had gone off somewhere secretly, and became bewildered with grief. And all this was at once known in Pátála, exactly as it had taken place. Then Trailokyamálin took with him his two daughters, and came fasting, with his wife and suite, to visit king Merudhvaja. And they all resolved on the following course of action; "Surely, as it is the fourteenth day, the prince has gone somewhere to worship Siva; so we will wait for him here this day. But to-morrow, if he has not returned, we will go where he is: then, happen what will."

In the meanwhile Padmávatí, who was in that hermitage of Siva, named Meghavana, said that very day to her ladies-in-waiting; "My friends, I remember that last night I went in a dream to Siddhísvara, and a certain man wearing matted hair came out of the temple of the god, and said to me, 'My daughter, thy sorrow is at an end, thy reunion with thy husband is nigh at hand.' When he had said this, he departed, and night and sleep left me together. So come, let us go there." When Padmávatí had said this, she went to that temple of Gaurí on the slope of Meru.

There she saw with astonishment that Muktáphaladhvaja at a distance bathing in Siddhodaka, and she said to her friends, "This man is like my beloved. Observe how very like he is. Wonderful! Can he be the very same? It cannot be, for he is a mortal." When her ladies-in-waiting heard that, and saw him, they said to her, "Princess, not only is this man very like your beloved, but observe, his companion also bears a resemblance to your lover's friend Samyataka. So we know for certain that, in accordance with your last night's dream which you related to us, Siva has by his power brought those two here, after their becoming incarnate as men owing to a curse. Otherwise, how, being mortals, could they have come to this region of the gods?" When Padmávatí had been thus addressed by her ladies-in-waiting, she worshipped Siva, and in a state of eager excitement, remained concealed near the god's symbol to find out who the stranger was.

In the meanwhile Muktáphaladhvaja, having bathed, came into the temple to worship the god, and after looking all round, said to Mahábuddhi, "Strange to say, here is that very temple, which I saw in my dream, made of precious stone, with the form of Siva visible within the linga. And now I behold here those very localities, which I saw in my dream, full of jewel-gleaming trees, which are alive with heavenly birds. But I do not see here that heavenly maiden, whom I then saw; and if I do not find her, I am determined to abandon the body in this place."

When he said this, Padmávatí's ladies-in-waiting said to her in a whisper, "Listen! it is certain that he has come here, because he saw you here in a dream, and if he does not find you, he intends to surrender his life; so let us remain here concealed, and see what he means to do."

And while they remained there in concealment, Muktáphaladhvaja entered, and worshipped the god, and came out. And when he came out, he devoutly walked round the temple three times, keeping his right hand towards it, and then he and his friend remembered their former birth, and in their joy they were telling to one another the events of their life as Vidyádharas, when Padmávatí met their view. And Muktáphaladhvaja, remembering the occurrences of his former life, as soon as he saw her, was filled with joy, and said to his friend, "Lo! this very princess Padmávatí, the lady I saw in my dream! and she has come here by good luck; so I will at once go and speak to her."

When he had said this, he went up to her weeping and said, "Princess, do not go away anywhere now; for I am your former lover Muktáphalaketu. I became a man by the curse of the hermit Dridhavrata, and I have now remembered my former birth." When he had said this, he tried, in his eagerness, to embrace her. But she was alarmed and made herself invisible, and remained there with her eyes full of tears: and the prince, not seeing her, fell on the ground in a swoon.

Then his friend sorrowfully spoke these words into the air, "How is it, princess Padmávatí, that, now this lover has come, for whom you suffered such severe austerities, you will not speak to him? I too am Samyataka the comrade of your beloved: why do you not say something kind to me, as I was cursed for you?" After saying this, he restored the prince, and said to him, "This punishment has come upon you as the result of the crime you committed in not accepting the Daitya princess, who offered herself to you out of love."

When Padmávatí, who was concealed, heard this, she said to her ladies-in-waiting, "Listen, he has no inclination for Asura maidens." Then her ladies said to her, "You see that all tallies together. Do you not remember that long ago, when your beloved was cursed, he craved as a boon from the hermit Tapodhana, that while he was a man, his heart might never be inclined to any one but Padmávatí. It is in virtue of that boon that he now feels no love for other women." When the princess heard this, she was bewildered with doubt.

Then Muktáphaladhvaja, who had no sooner seen his beloved, than she disappeared from his eyes, cried out, "Ah! my beloved Padmávatí, do you not see that when I was a Vidyádhara, I incurred a curse in Meghavana for your sake? And now be assured that I shall meet my death here."

When Padmávatí heard him utter this and other laments, she said to her ladies-in-waiting, "Though all indications seem to tally, still these two may possibly have heard these things at some time or other by communication from mouth to mouth, and therefore my mind is not convinced. But I cannot bear to listen to his sorrowful exclamations, so I will go to that temple of Gaurí; moreover it is the hour of worship for me there." When Padmávatí had said this, she went with her ladies-in-waiting to that hermitage of Ambiká, and after worshipping the goddess she offered this prayer, "If the man I have just seen in Siddhísvara is really my former lover, bring about for me, goddess, my speedy reunion with him."

And while Padmávatí was there, longing for her beloved, Muktáphaladhvaja, who had remained behind in Siddhísvara, said to his friend Mahábuddhi, who had been in a former life his friend Samyataka, "I am convinced, my friend, that she has gone to her own haunt, that temple of Gaurí; so come, let us go there." When he had said this, he ascended that chariot of his, which went wherever the mind desired, and flew to that hermitage of Ambiká.

When Padmávatí's ladies-in-waiting saw him afar off, coming down in the chariot from the sky, they said to Padmávatí, "Princess, behold this marvel. He has come here also, travelling in an air-going chariot; how can he, a mere man, have such power?" Then Padmávatí said, "My friends, do you not remember that on Dridhavrata, who cursed him, I laid the following curse, 'When my beloved is incarnate as a man, you shall be his vehicle, assuming any desired shape, and moving in obedience to a wish.' So, no doubt, this is that hermit's pupil, his vehicle, wearing at present the form of an air-going chariot, and by means of it he roams everywhere at will."

When she said this, her ladies-in-waiting said to her, "If you know this to be the case, princess, why do you not speak to him? What are you waiting for?" When Padmávatí heard this speech of her ladies', she went on to say, "I think that this probably is the case, but I am not absolutely certain as yet. But, even supposing he really is my beloved, how can I approach him, now that he is not in his own body, but in another body? So, let us for a time watch his proceedings, being ourselves concealed." When the princess had said this, she remained there concealed, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting.

Then Muktáphaladhvaja descended from the chariot in that hermitage of Ambiká, and being full of longing, said to his friend, "Here I had my first interview with my beloved, when she had been terrified by the Rákshasís; and I again saw her in the garden here, when she came having chosen me for her own; and here I received the curse, and she wished to follow me by dying; but was, though with difficulty, prevented by that great hermit: and now, see, that very same lady flies out of reach of my eyes."

When Padmávatí heard him speak thus, she said to her ladies-in-waiting, "True, my friends, it is really my beloved, but how can I approach him, before he has entered his former body? In this matter Siddhísvara is my only hope. He sent me the dream, and he will provide for me a way out of my difficulties." When she had formed this resolution, she went back to Siddhísvara. And she worshipped that manifestation of Siva, and offered this prayer to him, "Unite me with my beloved in his former body, or bestow death on me. I see no third way of escape from my woe." And then she remained with her friends in the court of the god's temple.

In the meanwhile Muktáphaladhvaja searched for the princess in the temple of Gaurí, and not finding her was despondent, and said to that friend, "I have not found her here; let us go back to that temple of Siva; if I cannot find her there, I will enter the fire."

When that friend heard it, he said, "Good luck will befall you! The word of the hermit and Siva's promise in your dream cannot be falsified." With those words did Muktáphaladhvaja's friend try to comfort him; and then Muktáphaladhvaja ascended the chariot, and went with him to Siddhísvara.

When Padmávatí saw him arrive, she still remained there invisible, and she said to her ladies-in-waiting, "Look! he has come to this very place." He too entered, and seeing that offerings had been recently placed in front of the god, prince Muktáphaladhvaja said to that companion of his, "Look, my friend, some one has been quite recently worshipping this symbol of the god; surely, that beloved of mine must be somewhere here, and she must have done this worship." When he had said this, he looked for her, but could not find her; and then in the anguish of separation he cried out again and again, "Ah! my beloved Padmávatí!"

Then, thinking that the cry of the cuckoo was her voice, and that the tail of the peacock was her hair, and that the lotus was her face, the prince ran wildly about, overpowered with an attack of the fever of love, and with difficulty did his friend console him; and coaxing him, he said to him, "What is this that you have taken up, being weak with much fasting? Why do you disregard your own welfare, though you have conquered the earth and Pátála? Your father Merudhvaja, and king Trailokyamálin, the king of the Dánavas, your future father-in-law, and his daughter Trailokyaprabhá, who wishes to marry you, and your mother Vinayavatí, and your younger brother Malayadhvaja will, if you do not go to them, suspect that some misfortune has happened, and fasting as they are, will give up their breath. So come along! Let us go and save their lives, for the day is at an end."

When Muktáphaladhvaja's friend said this to him, he answered him, "Then go yourself in my chariot and comfort them." Then his friend said, "How will that hermit's pupil, who has been made your vehicle by a curse, submit to me?" When the prince's friend said this, he replied, "Then wait a little, my friend; let us see what will happen here."

When Padmávatí heard this conversation of theirs, she said to her ladies-in-waiting, "I know that this is my former lover by all the notes tallying, but he is degraded by the curse, being enclosed in a human body, and I too am thus afflicted with a curse, because I laughed at the Siddha-maiden." While she was saying this, the moon rose, red in hue, the fire that devours the forest of separated lovers. And gradually the moonlight filled the world on every side, and the flame of love's fire filled the heart of Muktáphaladhvaja.

Then the prince began to lament like a chakraváka at the approach of night; and Padmávatí, who was concealed, being despondent, said to him, "Prince, though you are my former lover, still, as you are now in another body, you are to me a strange man, and I am to you as the wife of another; so why do you lament again and again? Surely some means will be provided, if that speech of the hermit's was true."

When Muktáphaladhvaja heard this speech of hers, and could not see her, he fell into a state which was painful from the contending emotions of joy and despondency; and he said to her, "Princess, my former birth has returned to my recollection, and so I recognised you, as soon as I saw you, for you still wear your old body, but as you saw me when I was dwelling in my Vidyádhara [726] body, how can you recognise me, now that I am in a mortal body? So I must certainly abandon this accursed frame." When he had said this, he remained silent, and his beloved continued in concealment.

Then, the night being almost gone, and his friend Mahábuddhi, who was formerly Samyataka, having gone to sleep out of weariness, prince Muktáphaladhvaja, thinking that he could never obtain Padmávatí, as long as he continued in that body, collected wood, [727] and lighted a fire; and worshipped Siva embodied in the linga, uttering this prayer, "Holy one, may I by thy favour return to my former body, and soon obtain my beloved Padmávatí!" And having said this, he consumed his body in that blazing fire.

And in the meanwhile Mahábuddhi woke up, and not being able, in spite of careful search, to find Muktáphaladhvaja, and seeing the fire blazing up, he came to the conclusion that his friend, distracted with separation, had burnt himself, and out of regret for his loss, he flung himself into that same fire.

When Padmávatí saw that, she was tortured with grief, and she said to her ladies-in-waiting, "Alas! Fie! the female heart is harder than the thunderbolt, otherwise my breath must have left me beholding this horror. So, how long am I to retain this wretched life? Even now, owing to my demerits, there is no end to my woe; moreover, the promise of that hermit has been falsified; so it is better that I should die. But it is not fitting that I should enter this fire and be mixed up with strange men, so in this difficult conjuncture hanging, which gives no trouble, is my best resource." When the princess had said this, she went in front of Siva, and proceeded to make a noose by means of a creeper, which she fastened to an asoka-tree.

And while her ladies-in-waiting were trying to prevent her by encouraging speeches, that hermit Tapodhana came there. He said, "My daughter, do not act rashly, that promise of mine will not be falsified. Be of good courage, you shall see that husband of yours come here in a moment. His curse has been just now cancelled by virtue of your penance; so why do you now distrust the power of your own austerities? And why do you shew this despondency when your marriage is at hand? I have come here because I learnt all this by my power of meditation." When Padmávatí saw the hermit approaching uttering these words, she bowed before him, and was for a moment, as it were, swung to and fro by perplexity. Then her beloved Muktáphalaketu, having by the burning of his mortal body entered his own Vidyádhara body, came there with his friend. And Padmávatí, seeing that son of the king of the Vidyádharas coming through the air, as a female chátaka beholds a fresh rain-cloud, or a kumudvatí the full moon newly risen, felt indescribable joy in her heart. And Muktáphalaketu, when he saw her, rejoiced, and so to speak, drank her in with his eyes, as a traveller, wearied with long wandering in a desert, rejoices, when he beholds a river. And those two, reunited like a couple of chakravákas by the termination of the night of their curse, took their fill of falling at the feet of that hermit of glowing brilliancy. [728] Then that great hermit welcomed them in the following words, "My heart has been fully gratified to-day by seeing you reunited, happy at having come to the end of your curse."

And when the night had passed, king Merudhvaja came there in search of them, mounted on the elephant of Indra, accompanied by his wife and his youngest son, and also Trailokyamálin the sovereign of the Daityas, with his daughter Trailokyaprabhá, mounted on a chariot, attended by his harem and his suite. Then the hermit pointed out Muktáphalaketu to those two kings and described what had taken place, how he had become a man by a curse, in order to do a service to the gods, and how he had been delivered from his human condition. And when Merudhvaja and the others heard that, though they were before eager to throw themselves into the fire, they bathed in Siddhodaka and worshipped Siva, by the hermit's direction, and were at once delivered from their sorrow. Then that Trailokyaprabhá suddenly called to mind her birth and said to herself "Truly I am that same Devaprabhá, the daughter of the king of the Siddhas, who, when undergoing austerities [729] in order that the emperor of all the Vidyádharas might be my husband, was ridiculed by Padmávatí, and entered the fire to gain the fulfilment of my desire. And now I have been born in this Daitya race, and here is this very prince with whom I was in love, who has recovered his Vidyádhara body. But it is not fitting that, now that his body is changed, he should be united to this body of mine, so I will consume my Asura body also in the fire, in order to obtain him."

Having gone through these reflections in her mind, and having communicated her intention to her parents, she entered [730] the fire which had consumed Muktáphaladhvaja; and then the god of fire himself appeared with her, on whom out of pity he had bestowed her former body, and said to Muktáphaladhvaja, "Muktáphaladhvaja, this lady Devaprabhá, the daughter of the king of the Siddhas, for thy sake abandoned her body in me; so receive her as thy wife." When the god of fire had said this, he disappeared; and Brahmá came there with Indra and the rest of the gods, and Padmasekhara the king of the Gandharvas, with Chandraketu, the sovereign of the Vidyádharas. Then that prosperous king of the Gandharvas [731] gave his daughter Padmávatí, with due rites and much activity on the part of his followers, as wife to Muktáphalaketu, who bowed before him, congratulated by all. And then that prince of the Vidyádharas, having obtained that beloved, whom he had so long desired, considered that he had gathered the fruit of the tree of his birth, and married also that Siddha-maiden. And prince Malayadhvaja was united to that Daitya princess, his beloved Tribhuvanaprabhá, whom her father bestowed on him with due rites. Then Merudhvaja, having, on account of his son Malayadhvaja's complete success, anointed him to be sole ruler of a kingdom extending over the earth with all its islands, went with his wife to the forest to perform austerities. And Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, went with his wife to his own region, and Indra gave to Muktáphalaketu the splendid kingdom of Vidyuddhvaja. And this voice came from heaven, "Let this Muktáphalaketu enjoy the sovereignty over the Vidyádharas and Asuras, and let the gods go to their own abodes!" When they heard that voice, Brahmá and Indra and the other gods went away delighted, and the hermit Tapodhana went with his pupil, who was released from his curse, and Chandraketu went to his own Vidyádhara home, with his son Muktáphalaketu who was graced by two wives. And there the king, together with his son, long enjoyed the dignity of emperor over the Vidyádharas, but at last he threw on him the burden of his kingdom, and, disgusted with the world and its pleasures, went with the queen to an ascetic grove of hermits. And Muktáphalaketu, having before obtained from Indra the rule over the Asuras, and again from his father the empire over the Vidyádharas, enjoyed, in the society of Padmávatí, who seemed like an incarnation of happiness, for ten kalpas, the good fortune of all the pleasures which the sway of those two wealthy realms could yield, and thus obtained the highest success. But he saw that passions are in their end distasteful, and at last he entered a wood of mighty hermits, and by the eminence of his asceticism obtained the highest glory, and became a companion of the lord Siva.

Thus king Brahmadatta and his wife and his minister heard this romantic tale from the couple of swans, and gained knowledge from their teaching, and obtained the power of flying through the air like gods; and then they went accompanied by those two birds to Siddhísvara, [732] and there they all laid aside the bodies they had entered in consequence of the curse, and were reinstated in their former position as attendants upon Siva. [733]

Hearing this story from Gomukha in the absence of Madanamanchuká, for a moment only, hermits, I cheered my heart with hope.

When the emperor Naraváhanadatta had told this story, those hermits in the hermitage of Kasyapa, accompanied by Gopálaka, rejoiced exceedingly.