Chapter XX…

Chapter XX

Then the king of Vatsa, while encamped in Lávánaka to rest his army, said in secret to Yaugandharáyana, "Through your sagacity I have conquered all the kings upon the earth, and they being won over by politic devices will not conspire against me. But this king of Benares, Brahmadatta, is an ill-conditioned fellow, and he alone, I think, will plot against me; what confidence can be reposed in the wicked-minded?" Then Yaugandharáyana, being spoken to in this strain by the king, answered, "O king, Brahmadatta will not plot against you again, for when he was conquered and submitted, you shewed him great consideration; and what sensible man will injure one who treats him well? Whoever does, will find that it turns out unfortunately for himself, and on this point, listen to what I am going to say; I will tell you a tale."

Story of Phalabhúti.

There was once on a time in the land of Padma an excellent Bráhman of high renown, named Agnidatta, who lived on a grant of land given by the king. He had born to him two sons, the elder named Somadatta, and the second Vaisvánaradatta. The elder of them was of fine person, but ignorant, and ill-conducted, but the second was sagacious, well-conducted, and fond of study. And those two after they were married, and their father had died, divided that royal grant and the rest of his possessions between them, each taking half; and the younger of the two was honoured by the king, but the elder Somadatta, who was of unsteady character, remained a husbandman. One day a Bráhman, who had been a friend of his father's, seeing him engaged in conversation with some Súdras, thus addressed him, "Though you are the son of Agnidatta, you behave like a Súdra, you blockhead, and you are not ashamed, though you see your own brother in favour with the king." Somadatta, when he heard that, flew into a passion, and forgetting the respect due to the old man, ran upon him, and gave him a kick. Then the Bráhman, enraged on account of the kick, immediately called on some other Bráhmans to bear witness to it, and went and complained to the king. The king sent out soldiers to take Somadatta prisoner, but they, when they went out, were slain by his friends, who had taken up arms. Then the king sent out a second force, and captured Somadatta, and blinded by wrath ordered him to be impaled. Then that Bráhman, as he was being lifted on to the stake, suddenly fell to the ground, as if he were flung down by somebody. And those executioners, when preparing to lift him on again, became blind, for the fates protect one who is destined to be prosperous. The king, as soon as he heard of the occurrence, was pleased, and being entreated by the younger brother, spared the life of Somadatta; then Somadatta, having escaped death, desired to go to another land with his wife on account of the insulting treatment of the king, and when his relations in a body disapproved of his departure, he determined to live without the half of the king's grant, which he resigned; then, finding no other means of support, he desired to practise husbandry, and went to the forest on a lucky day to find a piece of ground suitable for it. There he found a promising piece of ground, from which it seemed likely that an abundant crop could be produced, and in the middle of it he saw an Asvattha tree of great size. Desiring ground fit for cultivation, and seeing that tree to be cool like the rainy season, as it kept off the rays of the sun with its auspicious thick shade, he was much delighted. He said, "I am a faithful votary of that being, whoever he may be, that presides over this tree," and walking round the tree so as to keep it on his right, he bowed before it. [298] Then he yoked a pair of bullocks, and recited a prayer for success, and after making an oblation to that tree, he began to plough there. And he remained under that tree night and day, and his wife always brought him his meals there. And in course of time, when the corn was ripe that piece of ground was, as fate would have it, unexpectedly plundered by the troops of a hostile kingdom. Then the hostile force having departed, the courageous man, though his corn was destroyed, comforted his weeping wife, gave her the little that remained, and after making an offering as before, remained in the same place, under the same tree. For that is the character of resolute men, that their perseverance is increased by misfortune. Then one night, when he was sleepless from anxiety and alone, a voice came out from that Asvattha tree, "O Somadatta, I am pleased with thee, therefore go to the kingdom of a king named Ádityaprabha in the land of Sríkantha; continually repeat at the door of that king, (after reciting the form of words used at the evening oblation to Agni,) the following sentence--'I am Phalabhúti by name, a Bráhman, hear what I say: he who does good will obtain good, and he who does evil, will obtain evil;'--by repeating this there thou shalt attain great prosperity; and now learn from me the form of words used at the evening oblation to Agni; I am a Yaksha." Having said this, and having immediately taught him by his power the form of words used in the evening oblation, the voice in the tree ceased. And the next morning the wise Somadatta set out with his wife, having received the name of Phalabhúti by imposition of the Yaksha, and after crossing various forests uneven and labyrinthine as his own calamities, [299] he reached the land of Sríkantha. There he recited at the king's door the form of words used at the evening oblation, and then he announced, as he had been directed, his name as Phalabhúti, and uttered the following speech which excited the curiosity of the people, "The doer of good will obtain good, but the doer of evil, evil." And after he had said this frequently, the king Ádityaprabha, being full of curiosity, caused Phalabhúti to be brought into the palace, and he entered, and over and over again repeated that same speech in the presence of the king. That made the king and all his courtiers laugh. And the king and his chiefs gave him garments and ornaments, and also villages, for the amusement of great men is not without fruit; and so Phalabhúti, having been originally poor, immediately obtained by the favour of the Guhyaka [300] wealth bestowed by the king; and by continually reciting the words mentioned above, he became a special favourite of the monarch for the regal mind loves diversion. And gradually he attained to a position of love and respect in the palace, in the kingdom, and in the female apartments, as being beloved by the king. One day that king Ádityaprabha returned from hunting in the forest, and quickly entered his harem; his suspicions were aroused by the confusion of the warders, and when he entered, he saw the queen named Kuvalayávalí engaged in worshipping the gods, stark naked, [301] with her hair standing on end, and her eyes half-closed, with a large patch of red lead upon her forehead, with her lips trembling in muttering charms, in the midst of a great circle [302] strewed with various coloured powders, after offering a horrible oblation of blood, spirits, and human flesh. She for her part, when the king entered, in her confusion seized her garments, and when questioned by him immediately answered, after craving pardon for what she had done, "I have gone through this ceremony in order that you might obtain prosperity, and now, my lord, listen to the way in which I learnt these rites, and the secret of my magic skill."

Story of Kuvalayávalí and the witch Kálarátri.

Long ago, when I was living in my father's house, I was thus addressed, while enjoying myself in the garden during the spring festival, by my friends who met me there; "There is in this pleasure-garden an image of Ganesa, the god of gods, in the middle of an arbour made of trees, and that image grants boons, and its power has been tested. Approach with devout faith that granter of petitions, and worship him, in order that you may soon obtain without difficulty a suitable husband." When I heard that, I asked my friends in my ignorance; "What! do maidens obtain husbands by worshipping Ganesa?" Then they answered me; "Why do you ask such a question? Without worshipping him no one obtains any success in this world; and in proof of it we will give you an instance of his power, listen." Saying this, my friends told me the following tale:

Story of the birth of Kártikeya.

Long ago, when Indra oppressed by Táraka was desirous or obtaining a son from Siva to act as general of the gods, and the god of love had been consumed, [303] Gaurí by performing austerities sought and gained as a husband the three-eyed god, who was engaged in a very long and terrible course of mortification. Then she desired the obtaining of a son, and the return to life of the god of love, but she did not remember to worship Ganesa in order to gain her end. So, when his beloved asked that her desire should be granted, Siva said to her, "My dear goddess, the god of love was born long ago from the mind of Brahmá, and no sooner was he born than he said in his insolence, 'Whom shall I make mad? (kan darpayámi).' So Brahmá called him Kandarpa, and said to him, 'Since thou art very confident, my son, avoid attacking Siva only, lest thou receive death from him.' Though the Creator gave him this warning, the ill-disposed god came to trouble my austerities, therefore he was burnt up by me, and he cannot be created again with his body. [304] But I will create by my power a son from you, for I do not require the might of love in order to have offspring as mortals do." While the god, whose ensign is a bull, [305] was saying this to Párvatí, Brahmá accompanied by Indra appeared before him; and when he had been praised by them, and entreated to bring about the destruction of the Asura Táraka, Siva consented to beget on the goddess a son of his body. And, at their entreaty, he consented that the god of love should be born without body in the minds of animate creatures, to prevent the destruction of created beings. And he gave permission to love to influence his own mind; pleased with that, the Creator went away and Párvatí was delighted. But when, after the lapse of hundreds of years, there appeared no hope of Párvatí having any offspring, the god by the order of Brahmá called to mind Agni; Agni for his part, the moment they called him to mind, thinking that the foe of the god of love was irresistible, and afraid to interfere, fled from the gods and entered the water; but the frogs being burned by his heat told the gods, who were searching for him, that he was in the water; then Agni by his curse immediately made the speech of the frogs thenceforth inarticulate, and again disappearing fled to a place of refuge. There the gods found him, concealed in the trunk of a tree, in the form of a snail, for he was betrayed by the elephants and parrots, and he appeared to them. And after making by a curse the tongues of the parrots and the elephants incapable of clear utterance, he promised to do what the gods requested, having been praised by them. So he went to Siva, and after inclining humbly before him, through fear of being cursed, he informed him of the commission the gods had given him. Siva thereupon deposited the embryo in the fire. Then the goddess distracted with anger and grief, said, "I have not obtained a son from you after all," and Siva said to her; "An obstacle has arisen in this matter, because you neglected to worship Ganesa, the lord of obstacles; therefore adore him now in order that a child may be born to us of the fire." When thus addressed by Siva, the goddess worshipped Ganesa, and the fire became pregnant with that germ of Siva. Then, bearing that embryo of Siva, the fire shone even in the day as if the sun had entered into it. And then it discharged into the Ganges the germ difficult to bear, and the Ganges, by the order of Siva, placed it in a sacrificial cavity on mount Meru. [306] There that germ was watched by the Ganas, Siva's attendants, and after a thousand years had developed it, it became a boy with six faces. Then, drinking milk with his six mouths from the breasts of the six Krittikás [307] appointed by Gaurí to nurse him, the boy grew big in a few days. In the meanwhile, the king of the gods, overcome by the Asura Táraka, fled to the difficult peaks of mount Meru, abandoning the field of battle. And the gods together with the Rishis went to the six-mouthed Kártikeya for protection, and he, defending the gods, remained surrounded by them. When Indra heard that, he was troubled, considering that his kingdom was taken from him, and being jealous he went and made war upon Kártikeya. But from the body of Kártikeya, when struck by the thunderbolt of Indra, there sprang two sons called Sákha and Visákha, both of incomparable might. Then Siva came to his offspring Kártikeya, who exceeded Indra in might, and forbade him and his two sons to fight, and rebuked him in the following words: "Thou wast born in order that thou mightest slay Táraka and protect the realm of Indra, therefore do thy own duty." Then Indra was delighted and immediately bowed before him, and commenced the ceremony of consecrating by ablutions Kártikeya as general of his forces. But when he himself lifted the pitcher for that purpose, his arm became stiff, wherefore he was despondent, but Siva said to him; "Thou didst not worship the elephant-faced god, when thou desiredst a general; it was for this reason that thou hast met with this obstacle, therefore adore him now." Indra, when he heard that, did so, and his arm was set free, and he duly performed the joyful ceremony of consecrating the general. And not long after, the general slew the Asura Táraka, and the gods rejoiced at having accomplished their object, and Gaurí at having obtained a son. So, princess, you see even the gods are not successful without honouring Ganesa, therefore adore him when you desire a blessing.

After hearing this from my companions I went, my husband, and worshipped an image of Ganesa, that stood in a lonely part of the garden, and after I had finished the worship, I suddenly saw that those companions of mine had flown up by their own power and were disporting themselves in the fields of the air; when I saw that, out of curiosity I called them and made them come down from the heaven, and when I asked them about the nature of their magic power, they immediately gave me this answer; "These are the magic powers of witches' spells, and they are due to the eating of human flesh, and our teacher in this is a Bráhman woman known by the name of Kálarátri." When my companions said this to me, I being desirous of acquiring the power of a woman that can fly in the air, but afraid of eating human flesh, was for a time in a state of hesitation; then eager to possess that power, I said to those friends of mine, "Cause me also to be instructed in this science." And immediately they went and brought, in accordance with my request, Kálarátri, who was of repulsive appearance. Her eyebrows met, [308] she had dull eyes, a depressed flat nose, large cheeks, widely parted lips, projecting teeth, a long neck, pendulous breasts, a large belly, and broad expanded feet. She appeared as if the creator had made her as a specimen of his skill in producing ugliness. When I fell at her feet, after bathing and worshipping Ganesa, she made me take off my clothes and perform, standing in a circle, a horrible ceremony in honour of Siva in his terrific form, and after she had sprinkled me with water, she gave me various spells known to her, and human flesh to eat that had been offered in sacrifice to the gods; so, after I had eaten man's flesh and had received the various spells, I immediately flew up, naked as I was, into the heaven with my friends, and after I had amused myself, I descended from the heaven by command of my teacher, and I, the princess, went to my own apartments. Thus even in my girlhood I became one of the society of witches, and in our meetings we devoured the bodies of many men.

Story of Sundaraka.

But listen, king, to a story which is a digression from my main tale. That Kálarátri had for husband a Bráhman of the name of Vishnusvámin, and he, being an instructor in that country, taught many pupils who came from different lands, as he was skilful in the exposition of the Vedas. And among his pupils he had one young man of the name of Sundaraka, the beauty of whose person was set off by his excellent character; one day the teacher's wife Kálarátri being love-sick secretly courted him, her husband having gone away to some place or other. Truly Love makes great sport with ugly people as his laughing-stocks, in that she, not considering her own appearance, fell in love with Sundaraka. But he, though tempted, detested with his whole soul the crime; however women may misbehave, the mind of the good is not to be shaken. Then, he having departed, Kálarátri in a rage tore her own body with bites and scratches, and she remained weeping, [309] with dress and locks disordered, until the teacher Vishnusvámin entered the house. And when he had entered, she said to him,--"Look, my Lord, to this state has Sundaraka reduced me, endeavouring to gain possession of me by force." As soon as the teacher heard that, he was inflamed with anger, for confidence in women robs even wise men of their power of reflection; and when Sundaraka returned home at night, he ran upon him, and he and his pupils kicked him, and struck him with fists, and sticks; moreover when he was senseless with the blows, he ordered his pupils to fling him out in the road by night, without regard to his safety, and they did so. Then Sundaraka was gradually restored to consciousness by the cool night breeze, and seeing himself thus outraged he reflected, "Alas! the instigation of a woman troubles the minds even of those men whose souls are not under the dominion of passion, as a storm disturbs the repose of lakes which are not reached by dust. [310] This is why that teacher of mine in the excess of his anger, though old and wise, was so inconsiderate as to treat me so cruelly. But the fact is, lust and wrath are appointed in the dispensation of fate, from the very birth even of wise Bráhmans, to be the two bolts on the door of their salvation. [311] For were not the sages long ago angry with Siva in the devadáru-wood, being afraid that their wives would go astray? And they did not know that he was a god, as he had assumed the appearance of a Buddhist mendicant, with the intention of shewing Umá that even Rishis do not possess self-restraint. But after they had cursed him, they discovered that he was the ruling god, that shakes the three worlds, and they fled to him for protection. So it appears that even hermits injure others, when beguiled by the six faults that are enemies of man, [312] lust, wrath, and their crew, much more so Bráhmans learned in the Vedas." Thinking thus, Sundaraka from fear of robbers during the night, climbed up and took shelter in a neighbouring cow-house. And while he was crouching unobserved in a corner of that cow-house, Kálarátri came into it with a drawn sword in her hand, [313] terrible from the hissing she uttered, with wind and flames issuing from her mouth and eyes, accompanied by a crowd of witches. Then the terrified Sundaraka, beholding Kálarátri arriving in such a guise, called to mind the spells that drive away Rákshasas, and bewildered by these spells Kálarátri did not see him crouching secretly in a corner, with his limbs drawn together from fear. Then Kálarátri with her friends recited the spells that enable witches to fly, and they flew up into the air, cow-house and all.

And Sundaraka heard the spell and remembered it; [314] but Kálarátri with the cow-house quickly flew through the air to Ujjayiní: there she made it descend by a spell in a garden of herbs, and went and sported in the cemetery among the witches: and immediately Sundaraka being hungry went down into the garden of herbs, and made a meal on some roots which he dug up, and after he had allayed the pangs of hunger, and returned as before to the cow-house, Kálarátri came back in the middle of the night from her meeting. Then she got up into the cow-house, and, just as before, she flew through the air with her pupils by the power of her magic, and returned home in the night. And after she had replaced the cow-house, which she made use of as a vehicle, in its original situation, and had dismissed those followers of hers, she entered her sleeping apartment. And Sundaraka, having thus passed through that night, astonished at the troubles he had undergone, in the morning left the cow-house and went to his friends; there he related what had happened to him, and, though desirous of going to some other country, he was comforted by those friends and took up his abode among them, and leaving the dwelling of his teacher, and taking his meals in the almshouse for Bráhmans, he lived there enjoying himself at will in the society of his friends. One day Kálarátri, having gone out to buy some necessaries for her house, saw Sundaraka in the market. And being once more love-sick, she went up to him and said to him a second time--"Sundaraka, shew me affection even now, for my life depends on you." When she said this to him, the virtuous Sundaraka said to her, "Do not speak thus, it is not right; you are my mother, as being the wife of my teacher." Then Kálarátri said; "If you know what is right, then grant me my life, for what righteousness is greater than the saving of life?" Then Sundaraka said--"Mother, do not entertain this wish, for what righteousness can there be in approaching the bed of my preceptor." Thus repulsed by him, and threatening him in her wrath, she went home, after tearing her upper garment with her own hand, and shewing the garment to her husband, she said to him, "Look, Sundaraka ran upon me, and tore this garment of mine in this fashion;" so her husband went in his anger and stopped Sundaraka's supply of food at the almshouse, by saying that he was a felon who deserved death. Then Sundaraka in disgust, being desirous of leaving that country, and knowing the spell for flying up into the air which he had learnt in the cow-house, but being conscious that he had forgotten, after hearing it, the spell for descending from the sky, which he had been taught there also, again went in the night to that deserted cow-house, and while he was there, Kálarátri came as before, and flying up in the cow-house in the same way as on the former occasion, travelled through the air to Ujjayiní, and having made the cow-house descend by a spell in the garden of herbs, went again to the cemetery to perform her nightly ceremonies.

And Sundaraka heard that spell again, but failed again to retain it; for how can magic practices be thoroughly learnt without explanation by a teacher? Then he ate some roots there, and put some others in the cow-house to take away with him, and remained there as before; then Kálarátri came, and climbing up into the cow-house, flew through the air by night, and stopping the vehicle, entered her house. In the morning Sundaraka also left that house, and taking the roots with him he went to the market in order to procure money with which to purchase food. And while he was selling them there, some servants of the king's, who were natives of Málava, took them away without paying for them, seeing that they were the produce of their own country. Then he began to remonstrate angrily, so they manacled him, and took him before the king on a charge of throwing stones at them, and his friends followed him. Those villains said to the king--"This man, when we asked him how he managed continually to bring roots from Málava and sell them in Ujjayiní, would not give us any answer, on the contrary he threw stones at us."

When the king heard this, he asked him about that marvel, [315] then his friends said--"If he is placed on the palace with us, he will explain the whole wonder, but not otherwise." The king consented, and Sundaraka was placed on the palace, whereupon by the help of the spell he suddenly flew up into the heaven with the palace. And travelling on it with his friends, he gradually reached Prayága, [316] and being now weary he saw a certain king bathing there, and after stopping the palace there, he plunged from the heaven into the Ganges, and, beheld with wonder by all, he approached that king. The king inclining before him, said to him, "Who art thou, and why hast thou descended from heaven?" Sundaraka answered, "I am an attendant of the god Siva, named Murajaka, and by his command I have come to thee desiring human pleasures." When the king heard this, he supposed it was true, and gave him a city, rich in corn, filled with jewels, with women and all the insignia of rank. Then Sundaraka entered that city and flew up into the heaven with his followers, and for a long time roamed about at will, free from poverty. Lying on a golden bed, and fanned with chowries by beautiful women, he enjoyed happiness like that of Indra. Then once on a time a Siddha, that roamed in the air, with whom he had struck up a friendship, gave him a spell for descending from the air, and Sundaraka, having become possessed of this spell enabling him to come down to earth, descended from the sky-path in his own city of Kányakubja. Then the king hearing that he had come down from heaven, possessed of full prosperity, with a city, went in person to meet him out of curiosity, and Sundaraka, when recognized and questioned, knowing what to say on all occasions, informed the king of all his own adventures brought about by Kálarátri. Then the king sent for Kálarátri and questioned her, and she fearlessly confessed her improper conduct, and the king was angry and made up his mind to cut off her ears, but she, when seized, disappeared before the eyes of all the spectators. Then the king forbade her to live in his kingdom, and Sundaraka having been honourably treated by him returned to the air.

Having said this to her husband the king Ádityaprabha, the queen Kuvalayávalí went on to say; "King, such magic powers, produced by the spells of witches, do exist, and this thing happened in my father's kingdom, and it is famous in the world, and, as I told you at first, I am a pupil of Kálarátri's, but because I am devoted to my husband, I possess greater power even than she did. And to-day you saw me just at the time when I had performed ceremonies to ensure your welfare, and was endeavouring to attract by a spell a man to offer as a victim. So do you enter now into our practice, and set your foot on the head of all kings, conquering them by magic power. When he heard this proposal, the king at first rejected it, saying, "What propriety is there in a king's connecting himself with the eating of human flesh, the practice of witches?" But when the queen was bent on committing suicide, he consented, for how can men who are attracted by the objects of passion remain in the good path? Then she made him enter into the circle previously consecrated, and said to the king, after he had taken an oath; "I attempted to draw hither as a victim that Bráhman named Phalabhúti, who is so intimate with you, but the drawing him hither is a difficult task, so it is the best way to initiate some cook in our rites, that he may himself slay him and cook him. And you must not feel any compunction about it, because by eating a sacrificial offering of his flesh, after the ceremonies are complete, the enchantment will be perfect, for he is a Bráhman of the highest caste." When his beloved said this to him, the king, though afraid of the sin, a second time consented. Alas! terrible is compliance with women! Then that royal couple had the cook summoned, whose name was Sáhasika, and after encouraging him, and initiating him, they both said to him,--"Whoever comes to you to-morrow morning and says--'The king and queen will eat together to-day, so get some food ready quickly,' him you must slay, and make for us secretly a savoury dish of his flesh." When the cook heard this, he consented, and went to his own house. And the next morning, when Phalabhúti arrived, the king said to him, "Go and tell the cook Sáhasika in the kitchen, 'the king together with the queen will eat to-day a savoury mess, therefore prepare as soon as possible a splendid dish.'" Phalabhúti said, "I will do so" and went out. When he was outside, the prince whose name was Chandraprabha, came to him, and said--"Have made for me this very day with this gold a pair of earrings, like those you had made before for my noble father." When the prince said this, Phalabhúti, in order to please him, went that moment, as he was commissioned, to get the earrings made, and the prince readily went with the king's message, which Phalabhúti told him, alone to the kitchen; when he got there and told the king's message, the cook Sáhasika, true to his agreement, immediately killed him with a knife, and made a dish of his flesh, which the king and queen, after performing their ceremonies, ate, not knowing the truth; [317] and after spending that night in remorse, the next morning the king saw Phalabhúti arrive with the earrings in his hand.

So, being bewildered, he questioned him about the earrings immediately; and when Phalabhúti had told him his story, the king fell on the earth, and cried out; "Alas my son!" blaming the queen and himself, and when his ministers questioned him, he told them the whole story, and repeated what Phalabhúti had said every day--"'The doer of good will obtain good, and the doer of evil, evil.' Often the harm that one wishes to do to another, recoils on one's self, as a ball thrown against a wall rebounding frequently; thus we, wicked ones, desiring to slay a Bráhman, have brought about our own son's death, and devoured his flesh." After the king had said this and informed his ministers, who stood with their faces fixed on the earth, of the whole transaction, and after he had anointed that very Phalabhúti as king in his place, he made a distribution of alms and then, having no son, entered the fire with his wife to purify himself from guilt, though already consumed by the fire of remorse: and Phalabhúti, having obtained the royal dignity, ruled the earth; thus good or evil done by a man is made to return upon himself.

Having related the above tale in the presence of the king of Vatsa, Yaugandharáyana again said to that king; "If Brahmadatta therefore were to plot against you, O great king, who, after conquering him, treated him kindly, he ought to be slain." When the chief minister had said this to him, the king of Vatsa approved of it, and rising up went to perform the duties of the day, and the day following he set out from Lávánaka to go to his own city Kausámbí, having accomplished his objects in effecting the conquest of the regions; in course of time the lord of earth accompanied by his retinue reached his own city, which seemed to be dancing with delight, imitating with banners uplifted the taper arms [318] of the dancing girl. So he entered the city, producing, at every step, in the lotus-garden composed of the eyes of the women of the city, the effect of the rising of a breeze. And the king entered his palace, sung by minstrels, praised by bards, and worshipped by kings. Then the monarch of Vatsa laid his commands on the kings of every land, who bowed before him, and triumphantly ascended that throne, the heirloom of his race, which he had found long ago in the deposit of treasure. And the heaven was filled with the combined high and deep echoes of the sound of the drums, which accompanied the auspicious ceremonies on that occasion, like simultaneous shouts of applause uttered by the guardians of the world, each in his several quarter, being delighted with the prime minister of the king of Vatsa. Then the monarch, who was free from avarice, distributed to the Bráhmans all kinds of wealth acquired by the conquest of the world, and after great festivities, satisfied the desires of the company of kings and of his own ministers. Then in that city filled with the noise of drums resembling the thunder of the clouds, while the king was raining benefits on the fields [319] according to each man's desert, the people, expecting great fruit in the form of corn, kept high festival in every house. Having thus conquered the world, that victorious king devolved on Rumanvat and Yaugandharáyana the burden of his realm, and lived at ease there with Vásavadattá and Padmávatí. So he, being praised by excellent bards, seated between those two queens as if they were the goddesses of Fame and Fortune, enjoyed the rising of the moon white as his own glory, and continually drank wine as he had swallowed the might of his foes.

Chapter XXI

Victory to the conqueror of obstacles, [320] who marks with a line like the parting of the hair, the principal mountains [321] by the mighty fanning of his ear-flaps, pointing out, as it were, a path of success!

Then Udayana, the king of Vatsa, remaining in Kausámbí, enjoyed the conquered earth which was under one umbrella; and the happy monarch devolved the care of his empire upon Yaugandharáyana and Rumanvat, and addicted himself to pleasure only in the society of Vasantaka. Himself playing on the lute, in the company of the queen Vásavadattá and Padmávatí, he was engaged in a perpetual concert. While the notes of his lyre were married to the soft sweet song of the queens, the rapid movement of his executing finger alone indicated the difference of the sounds. And while the roof of the palace was white with moonlight as with his own glory, he drank wine in plenteous streams as he had swallowed the pride of his enemies [322]; beautiful women brought him, as he sat retired, in vessels of gold, wine flaming with rosy glow, [323] as it were the water of his appointment as ruler in the empire of love; he divided between the two queens the cordial liquor red, delicious, and pellucid, in which danced the reflection of their faces; as he did his own heart, impassioned, enraptured and transparent, in which the same image was found; his eyes were never sated with resting on the faces of those queens, which had the eyebrows arched, and blushed with the rosy hue of love, though envy and anger were far from them; the scene of his banquet, filled with many crystal goblets of wine, gleamed like a lake of white lotuses tinged red with the rising sun. And occasionally, accompanied by huntsmen, clad in a vest dark green as the palása tree, he ranged, bow and arrows in hand, the forest full of wild beasts, which was of the same colour as himself. He slew with arrows herds of wild boars besmeared with mud, as the sun disperses with its dense rays the masses of darkness; when he ran towards them, the antelopes fleeing in terror, seemed like the sidelong glances of the quarters previously conquered [324] by him.

And when he slew the buffaloes, the ground, red with blood, looked like a bed of red lotuses, come to thank him humbly for delivering it from the goring of their horns. When the lions too were transfixed by his javelins falling in their open mouths, and their lives issued from them with a suppressed roar, he was delighted. In that wood he employed dogs in the ravines, and nets in the glades; this was the method of his pursuit of the chase in which he relied only upon his own resources. While he was thus engaged in his pleasant enjoyments, one day the hermit Nárada came to him as he was in the hall of audience, diffusing a halo with the radiance of his body, like the sun, the orb of heaven, descending therefrom out of love for the Solar dynasty. The king welcomed him, inclining before him again and again, and the sage stood a moment as if pleased, and said to that king, "Listen, O king, I will tell you a story in few words; you had an ancestor once, a king of the name of Pándu; he like you had two noble wives; one wife of the mighty prince was named Kuntí and the other Mádrí. That Pándu conquered this sea-engirdled earth, and was very prosperous, and being addicted to the vice of hunting he went one day to the forest. There he let fly an arrow and slew a hermit of the name of Arindama, who was sporting with his wife in the form of a deer. [325] That hermit abandoned that deer-form, and with his breath struggling in his throat cursed that Pándu, who in his despair had flung away his bow; 'Since I have been slain while sporting at will by thee, inconsiderate one, thou also shalt die in the embraces of thy wife.' Having been thus cursed, Pándu, through fear of its effect, abandoned the desire of enjoyment, and accompanied by his wives lived in a tranquil grove of ascetic quietism. While he was there, one day impelled by that curse, he suddenly approached his beloved Mádrí, and died. So you may rest assured that the occupation called hunting is a madness of kings, for other kings have been done to death by it, even as the various deer they have slain. For how can hunting produce benign results, since the genius of hunting is like a female Rákshasa, roaring horribly, intent on raw flesh, defiled with dust, with upstanding hair and lances for teeth. Therefore give up that useless exertion, the sport of hunting; wild elephants and their slayers are exposed to the same risk of losing their lives. And you, who are ordained for prosperity, are dear to me on account of my friendship with your ancestors, so hear how you are to have a son who is to be a portion of the god of love. Long ago, when Rati worshipped Siva with praises in order to effect the restoration of Káma's body, Siva being pleased told her this secret in few words; 'This Gaurí, [326] desiring a son, shall descend to earth with a part of herself, and after propitiating me, shall give birth to an incarnation of Káma.' Accordingly, king, the goddess has been born in the form of this Vásavadattá, daughter of Chandamahásena, and she has become your queen. So she, having propitiated Siva, shall give birth to a son who shall be a portion of Káma, and shall become the emperor of all the Vidyádharas." By this speech the Rishi Nárada, whose words command respect, gave back to the king the earth which he had offered him as a present, and then disappeared. When he had departed, the king of Vatsa in company with Vásavadattá, in whom had arisen the desire of obtaining a son, spent the day in thinking about it.

The next day the chief warder called Nityodita, came to the lord of Vatsa while he was in the hall of assembly, and said to him; "A certain distressed Bráhman woman, accompanied by two children, is standing at the door, O king, desiring to see your Highness." When the king heard this, he permitted her to enter, and so that Bráhman woman entered, thin, pale, and begrimed, distressed by the tearing of her clothes and wounding of her self-respect, carrying in her bosom two children looking like Misery and Poverty. After she had made the proper obeisance, she said to the king, "I am a Bráhman woman of good caste, reduced to such poverty; as fate would have it, I gave birth to these two boys at the same time, and I have no milk for them, O king, without food. Therefore I have come in my misery and helplessness for protection to the king, who is kind to all who fly to him for protection; now, my lord the king must determine what my lot is to be." When the king heard that, he was filled with pity, and said to the warder, "Take this woman and commend her to the queen Vásavadattá." Then that woman was conducted into the presence of the queen by that warder, as it were by her own good actions marching in front of her. The queen, when she heard from that warder that the Bráhman woman who had come had been sent by the king, felt all the more confidence in her. And when she saw that the woman, though poor, had two children, she thought, "This is exceedingly unfair dealing on the part of the Creator! Alas! he grudges a son to me who am rich, and shews affection to one who is poor! I have not yet one son, but this woman has these twins." Thus reflecting, the queen, who was herself desiring a bath, gave orders to her servants to provide the Bráhman woman with a bath and other restoratives. After she had been provided with a bath, and had had clothes given her, and had been supplied by them with agreeable food, that Bráhman woman was refreshed like the heated earth bedewed with rain. And as soon as she had been refreshed, the queen Vásavadattá, in order to test her by conversation, artfully said to her, "O Bráhman lady, tell us some tale," when she heard that, she agreed and began to tell this story.

Story of Devadatta.

In old time there was a certain petty monarch of the name of Jayadatta and there was born to him a son, named Devadatta. And that wise king wishing to marry his son who was grown up, thus reflected--"The prosperity of kings is very unstable, being like a hetæra to be enjoyed by force, but the prosperity of merchants is like a woman of good family, it is steady and does not fly to another man. Therefore I will take a wife to my son from a merchant's family, in order that misfortune may not overtake his throne, though it is surrounded with many relations." Having formed this resolve, that king sought for his son the daughter of a merchant in Pátaliputra named Vasudatta. Vasudatta, for his part, eager for such a distinguished alliance, gave that daughter of his to the prince, though he dwelt in a remote foreign land.

And he loaded his son-in-law with wealth to such an extent that he no longer felt much respect for his father's magnificence. Then king Jayadatta dwelt happily with that son of his who had obtained the daughter of that rich merchant. Now one day the merchant Vasudatta came, full of desire to see his daughter, to the palace of his connexion by marriage, and took away his daughter to his own home. Shortly after the king Jayadatta suddenly went to heaven, and that kingdom was seized by his relations who rose in rebellion; through fear of them his son Devadatta was secretly taken away by his mother during the night to another country. Then that mother distressed in soul said to the prince--"Our feudal lord is the emperor who rules the eastern region, repair to him, my son, he will procure you the kingdom." When his mother said this to him, the prince answered her; "Who will respect me if I go there without attendants?" When she heard that, his mother went on to say, "Go to the house of your father-in-law, and get money there and so procure followers, and then repair to the emperor." Being urged in these words by his mother, the prince, though full of shame, slowly plodded on and reached his father-in-law's house in the evening, but he could not bear to enter at such an unseasonable hour, for he was afraid of shedding tears, being bereaved of his father, and having lost his worldly splendour, besides shame withheld him. So he remained in the verandah of an alms house near, and at night he suddenly beheld a woman descending with a rope from his father-in-law's house, and immediately he recognized her as his wife, for she was so resplendent with jewels that she looked like a meteor fallen from the clouds, and he was much grieved thereat, but she, though she saw him, did not recognise him, as he was emaciated and begrimed, and asked him who he was; when he heard that, he answered, "I am a traveller;" then the merchant's daughter entered the alms-house, and the prince followed her secretly to watch her. There she advanced towards a certain man, and he towards her, and asking her why she had come so late, he bestowed several kicks on her. [327] Then the passion of the wicked woman was doubled, and she appeased him and remained with him on the most affectionate terms. When he saw that, the discreet prince reflected; "This is not the time for me to shew anger, for I have other affairs in hand, and how could I employ against these two contemptible creatures, this wife of mine and the man who has done me this wrong, this sword which is to be used against my foes? Or what quarrel have I with this adulteress, for this is the work of malignant destiny, that showers calamities upon me, shewing skill in the game of testing my firmness? It is my marriage with a woman below me in rank that is in fault, not the woman herself; how can a female crow leave the male crow to take pleasure in a cuckoo?" Thus reflecting, he allowed that wife of his to remain in the society of her paramour; for in the minds of heroes possessed with an ardent desire of victory, of what importance is woman, valueless as a straw? But at the moment when his wife ardently embraced her paramour, there fell from her ear an ornament thickly studded with valuable jewels. And she did not observe this, but at the end of her interview taking leave of her paramour, returned hurriedly to her house as she came. And that unlawful lover also departed somewhere or other. Then the prince saw that jewelled ornament and took it up; it flashed with many jewel-gleams, dispelling the gathering darkness of despondency, and seemed like a hand-lamp obtained by him to assist him in searching for his lost prosperity. The prince immediately perceived that it was very valuable, and went off, having obtained all he required, to Kányakubja; there be pledged that ornament for a hundred thousand gold pieces, and after buying horses and elephants went into the presence of the emperor. And with the troops, which he gave him, he marched and slew his enemies in fight, and recovered his father's kingdom, and his mother applauded his success. Then he redeemed from pawn that ornament, and sent it to his father-in-law to reveal that unsuspected secret; his father-in-law, when he saw that ear-ring of his daughter's, which had come to him in such a way, was confounded and shewed it to her: she looked upon it, lost long ago like her own virtue, and when she heard that it had been sent by her husband, she was distracted and called to mind the whole circumstance: "This is the very ornament which I let fall in the alms-house the night I saw that unknown traveller standing there; so that must undoubtedly have been my husband come to test my virtue, but I did not recognize him, and he picked up this ornament." While the merchant's daughter was going through this train of reflection, her heart, afflicted by the misfortune of her unchastity having been discovered, in its agony, broke. Then her father artfully questioned a maid of hers who knew all her secrets, and found out the truth, and so ceased to mourn for his daughter; as for the prince, after he recovered the kingdom, he obtained as wife the daughter of the emperor won by his virtues, and enjoyed the highest prosperity.

So you see that the hearts of women are hard as adamant in daring sin, but are soft as a flower when the tremor of fear falls upon them. But there are some few women born in good families, that, having hearts virtuous [328] and of transparent purity, become like pearls the ornaments of the earth. And the fortune of kings is ever bounding away like a doe, but the wise know how to bind it by the tether of firmness, as you see in my story; therefore those who desire good fortune must not abandon their virtue even in calamity, and of this principle my present circumstances are an illustration, for I preserved my character, O queen, even in this calamity, and that has borne me fruit in the shape of the good fortune of beholding you.

Having heard this tale from the mouth of that Bráhman woman, the queen Vásavadattá, feeling respect for her, immediately thought,--"Surely this Bráhman woman must be of good family, for the indirect way in which she alluded to her own virtue and her boldness in speech prove that she is of gentle birth, and this is the reason why she shewed such tact in entering the king's court of justice,"--having gone through these reflections, the queen again said to the Bráhman woman: "Whose wife are you, or what is the history of your life? Tell me." When she heard that, the Bráhman woman again began to speak--

Story of Pingaliká.

Queen, there was a certain Bráhman in the country or Málava, named Agnidatta, the home of Fortune and of Learning, who willingly impoverished himself to help suppliants, and in course of time there were born to him two sons like himself; the eldest was called Sankaradatta and the other Sántikara; of these two, oh glorious one, Sántikara suddenly left his father's house in quest of learning, while he was still a boy, and went, I know not whither, and the other son his elder brother married me, who am the daughter of Yajnadatta who collected wealth for the sake of sacrifice only. In course of time the father of my husband, who was named Agnidatta, being old, went to the next world and his wife followed him, [329] and my husband left me, when I was pregnant, to go to holy places, and through sorrow for his loss abandoned the body in fire purified by the goddess Sarasvatí; and when that fact was told us by those who accompanied him in his pilgrimage, I was not permitted to follow him by my relations, as I was pregnant. Then, while my grief was fresh, brigands suddenly swooped down on us and plundered my house and all the royal grant; immediately I fled with three Bráhman women from that place, for fear that I might be outraged, taking with me very few garments. And, as the whole kingdom was ravaged, I went to a distant land accompanied by them, and remained there a month only supporting myself by menial drudgery. And then hearing from people that the king of Vatsa was the refuge of the helpless, I came here with the three Bráhman women, with no other travelling provision than my virtue; and as soon as I arrived I gave birth at the same time to two boys. Thus, though I have the friendly assistance of these three Bráhman women, I have suffered bereavement, banishment, poverty, and now comes this birth of twins; Alas! Providence has opened to me the door of calamity. Accordingly, reflecting that I had no other means of maintaining these children, I laid aside shame, the ornament of women, and entering into the king's court I made a petition to him. Who is able to endure the sight of the misery of youthful offspring? And in consequence of his order, I have come into your august presence, and my calamities have turned back, as if ordered away from your door. This is my history: as for my name, it is Pingaliká, because from my childhood my eyes have been reddened by the smoke of the burnt-offerings. And that brother-in-law of mine Sántikara dwells in a foreign land, but in what land he is now living, I have not as yet discovered.

When the Bráhman woman had told her history in these words, the queen came to the conclusion that she was a lady of high birth, and after reflecting, said this to her with an affectionate manner: "There is dwelling here a foreign Bráhman of the name of Sántikara, and he is our domestic chaplain; I am certain he will turn out to be your brother-in-law." After saying this to the eager Bráhman lady, the queen allowed that night to pass, and the next morning sent for Sántikara and asked him about his descent. And when he had told her his descent, she, ascertaining that the two accounts tallied completely, shewed him that Bráhman lady, and said to him--"Here is your brother's wife." And when they recognised one another, and he had heard of the death of his relations, he took the Bráhman lady the wife of his brother to his own house. There he mourned exceedingly, as was natural, for the death of his parents and his brother, and comforted the lady who was accompanied by her two children; and the queen Vásavadattá settled that the Bráhman lady's two young sons should be the domestic chaplains of her future son, and the queen also gave the eldest the name of Sántisoma, and the next of Vaisvánara, and she bestowed on them much wealth. The people of this world are like a blind man, being led to the place of recompense by their own actions, going before them, [330] and their courage is merely an instrument. Then those two children, and their mother and Sántikara remained united there, having obtained wealth.

Then once upon a time, as days went on, the queen Vásavadattá beheld from her palace a certain woman of the caste of potters coming with five sons, bringing plates, and she said to the Bráhman lady Pingaliká, who was at her side; "Observe, my friend: this woman has five sons, and I have not even one as yet, to such an extent is such a one the possessor of merit, while such a one as myself is not." [331]

Then Pingaliká said, "Queen, these numerous sons are people who have committed many sins in a previous existence, and are born to poor people in order that they may suffer for them, but the son that shall be born to such a one as you, must have been in a former life a very virtuous person. Therefore do not be impatient, you will soon obtain a son such as you deserve." Though Pingaliká said this to her, Vásavadattá, being eager for the birth of a son, remained with her mind overpowered by anxiety about it. At that moment the king of Vatsa came and perceiving what was in her heart said--"Queen, Nárada said that you should obtain a son by propitiating Siva, therefore we must continually propitiate Siva, that granter of boons." Upon that, the queen quickly determined upon performing a vow, and when she had taken a vow, the king and his ministers and the whole kingdom also took a vow to propitiate Siva; and after the royal couple had fasted for three nights, that Lord was so pleased that he himself appeared to them and commanded them in a dream,--"Rise up; from you shall spring a son who shall be a portion of the god of love, and owing to my favour shall be king of all the Vidyádharas." When the god, whose crest is the moon, had said this and disappeared, that couple woke up, and immediately felt unfeigned joy at having obtained their boon, and considered that they had gained their object. And in the morning the king and queen rose up, and after delighting the subjects with the taste of the nectarous story of their dream, kept high festival with their relations and servants, and broke in this manner the fast of their vow. After some days had past, a certain man with matted locks came and gave the queen Vásavadattá a fruit in her dream. Then the king of Vatsa rejoiced with the queen, who informed him of that clear dream, and he was congratulated by his ministers, and supposing that the god of the moon-crest had given her a son under the form of a fruit, he considered the fulfilment of his wish to be not far off.

Chapter XXII

Then, in a short time, Vásavadattá became pregnant with a child, glorious inasmuch as it was an incarnation of the god of Love, and it was a feast to the eyes of the king of Vatsa. She shone with a face, the eyes of which rolled, and which was of palish hue, as if with the moon come to visit her out of affection for the god of Love conceived in her. When she was sitting down, the two images of her form, reflected in the sides of the jewelled couch, seemed like Rati and Príti come there out of regard for their husband. [332] Her ladies-in-waiting attended upon her like the Sciences that grant desires, come in bodily form to shew their respect for the future king of the Vidyádharas [333] conceived in her. At that time she had breasts with points dark like a folded bud, resembling pitchers intended for the inaugural sprinkling [334] of her unborn son. When she lay down on a comfortable couch in the middle of the palace, which gleamed with pavement composed of translucent, flashing, lustrous jewels, she appeared as if she were being propitiated by the waters, that had come there trembling, through fear of being conquered by her future son, with heaps of jewels on every side. Her image reflected from the gems in the middle of the chariot, appeared like the Fortune of the Vidyáharas coming in the heaven to offer her adoration. And she felt a longing for stories of great magicians provided with incantations by means of spells, introduced appropriately in conversation. Vidyádhara ladies, beginning melodious songs, waited upon her when in her dream she rose high up in the sky, and when she woke up, she desired to enjoy in reality the amusement of sporting in the air, which would give the pleasure of looking down upon the earth. And Yaugandharáyana gratified that longing of the queen's by employing spells, machines, juggling, and such like contrivances. So she roamed through the air by means of those various contrivances, which furnished a wonderful spectacle to the upturned eyes of the citizens' wives. But once on a time, when she was in her palace, there arose in her heart a desire to hear the glorious tales of the Vidyádharas; then Yaugandharáyana, being entreated by that queen, told her this tale while all were listening.

Story of Jímútaváhana.

There is a great mountain named Himavat, the father of the mother of the world, [335] who is not only the chief of hills, but the spiritual preceptor of Siva, and on that great mountain, the home of the Vidyádharas, dwelt the lord of the Vidyádharas, the king Jímútaketu. And in his house there was a wishing-tree [336], which had come down to him from his ancestors, called by a name which expressed its nature, The Giver of Desires. And one day the king Jímútaketu approached that wishing-tree in his garden, which was of divine nature, and supplicated it; "We always obtain from you all we desire, therefore give me, O god, who am now childless, a virtuous son." Then the wishing-tree said,--"King, there shall be born to thee a son who shall remember his past birth, who shall be a hero in giving, and kind to all creatures." When he heard that, the king was delighted, and bowed before that tree, and then he went and delighted his queen with the news: accordingly in a short time a son was born to him, and his father called the son Jímútaváhana. Then that Jímútaváhana, who was of great goodness, grew up step by step with the growth of his innate compassion for all creatures. And in course of time, when he was made Crown-Prince, he being full of compassion for the world said in secret to his father, who was pleased by his attentions--"I know, O father, that in this world all things perish in an instant, but the pure glory of the great alone endures till the end of a Kalpa. [337] If it is acquired by benefiting others, what other wealth can be, like it, valued by high-minded men more than life. And as for prosperity, if it be not used to benefit others, it is like lightning which for a moment pains the eye, and flickering disappears somewhere or other. So, if this wishing-tree, which we possess, and which grants all desires, is employed for the benefit of others, we shall have reaped from it all the fruit it can give. So let me take such steps as that by its riches the whole multitude of men in need may be rescued from poverty." This petition Jímútaváhana made to his father, and having obtained his permission, he went and said to that wishing-tree, "O god, thou always givest us the desired fruit, therefore fulfil to-day this one wish of ours. O my friend, relieve this whole world from its poverty, success to thee, thou art bestowed on the world that desires wealth!" The wishing-tree being addressed in this style by that self-denying one, showered much gold on the earth, and all the people rejoiced; what other compassionate incarnation of a Bodhisattva except the glorious Jímútaváhana would be able to dispose even of a wishing-tree in favour of the needy? For this reason every region of the earth [338] became devoted to Jímútaváhana, and his stainless fame was spread on high.

Then the relations of Jímútaketu, seeing that his throne was firmly established by the glory of his son, were envious, and became hostile to him. And they thought it would be easy to conquer that place, which possessed the excellent wishing-tree that was employed for bestowing gifts, on account of its not being strong: then they assembled and determined on war, and thereupon the self-denying Jímútaváhana said to his father,--"As this body of ours is like a bubble in the water, for the sake of what do we desire prosperity, which flickers like a candle exposed to the wind? And what wise man desires to attain prosperity by the slaughter of others? Accordingly, my father, I ought not to fight with my relations. But I must leave my kingdom and go to some forest or other; let these miserable wretches be, let us not slay the members of our own family." When Jímútaváhana had said this, his father Jímútaketu formed a resolution and said to him; "I too must go, my son, for what desire for rule can I, who am old, have, when you, though young, out of compassion abandon your realm as if it were so much grass?" In these words his father expressed his acquiescence in the project of Jímútaváhana, who then, with his father and his father's wife, went to the Malaya mountain. There he remained in a hermitage, the dwelling of the Siddhas, where the brooks were hidden by the sandal-wood trees, and devoted himself to taking care of his father. There he struck up a friendship with the self-denying son of Visvávasu, the chief prince of the Siddhas, whose name was Mitrávasu. And once on a time the all-knowing Jímútaváhana beheld in a lonely place Mitrávasu's maiden sister, who had been his beloved in a former birth. And the mutual gaze of those two young people was like the catching in a frail net of the deer of the mind. [339]

Then one day Mitrávasu came up suddenly to Jímútaváhana, who deserved the respect of the three worlds, with a pleased expression, and said to him, "I have a younger sister, the maiden called Malayavatí; I give her to you, do not refuse to gratify my wish." When Jímútaváhana heard that, he said to him, "O prince, she was my wife in a former birth, and in that life you became my friend, and were like a second heart to me. I am one who remembers the former state of existence, I recollect all that happened in my previous birth." When he said this, Mitrávasu said to him, "then tell me this story of your former birth, for I feel curiosity about it." When he heard this from Mitrávasu, the benevolent Jímútaváhana told him the tale of his former birth as follows:

Story of Jímútaváhana's adventures in a former birth.

Thus it is; formerly I was a sky-roaming Vidyádhara, and once on a time I was passing over a peak of the Himálaya. And then Siva, who was below, sporting with Gaurí, being angry at my passing above him, cursed me, saying, "Descend into a mortal womb, and after obtaining a Vidyádharí for your wife, and appointing your son in your place, you shall remember your former birth, and again be born as a Vidyádhara." Having pronounced when this curse should end, Siva ceased and disappeared; and soon after I was born upon earth in a family of merchants. And I grew up as the son of a rich merchant in a city named Vallabhí, and my name was Vasudatta. And in course of time, when I became a young man, I had a retinue given me by my father, and went by his orders to another land to traffic. As I was going along, robbers fell upon me in a forest, and after taking all my property, led me in chains to a temple of Durgá in their village, terrible with a long waving banner of red silk like the tongue of Death eager to devour the lives of animals. There they brought me into the presence of their chief named Pulindaka, who was engaged in worshipping the goddess, in order that I might serve as a victim. He, though he was a Savara, [340] the moment he saw me, felt his heart melt with pity for me; an apparently causeless affectionate movement of the heart is a sign of friendship in a former birth. Then that Savara king, having saved me from slaughter, was about to complete the rite by the sacrifice of himself, when a heavenly voice said to him--"Do not act thus, I am pleased with thee, crave a boon of me,"--thereupon he was delighted, and said--"O goddess, thou art pleased; what other blessing can I need, nevertheless I ask so much--may I have friendship with this merchant's son in another birth also." The voice said--"So be it," and then ceased, and then that Savara gave me much wealth, and sent me back to my own home. And then, as I had returned from foreign travel and from the jaws of death, my father, when he heard the whole occurrence, made a great feast in my honour. And in course of time I saw there that very same Savara chief, whom the king had ordered to be brought before him as a prisoner for plundering a caravan. I told my father of it immediately, and making a petition to the king, I saved him from capital punishment by the payment of a hundred thousand gold-pieces. And having in this way repaid the benefit, which he conferred upon me by saving my life, I brought him to my house, and entertained him honourably for a long time with all loving attention. And then, after this hospitable entertainment, I dismissed him, and he went to his own village fixing upon me a heart tender with affection. Then, while he thought about a present for me that might be worthy of my return for his previous kindness, he came to the conclusion that the pearls and musk and treasures of that kind, which were at his disposal, were not valuable enough. Thereupon he took his bow and went off to the Himálaya to shoot elephants, in order to obtain a surpassingly splendid necklace [341] for me. And while he was roaming about there, he reached a great lake with a temple upon its shore, being welcomed by its lotuses, which were as devoted to their friend [342] as he was to me. And suspecting that the wild elephants would come there to drink water, he remained in concealment with his bow, in order to kill them. In the meanwhile he saw a young lady of wonderful beauty come riding upon a lion to worship Siva, whose temple stood on the shore of the lake; looking like a second daughter of the king of the snowy mountains, devoted to the service of Siva while in her girlhood. And the Savara, when he saw her, being overpowered with wonder, reflected--"Who can this be? If she is a mortal woman, why does she ride upon a lion? On the other hand, if she is divine, how can she be seen by such as me? So she must certainly be the incarnate development of the merits of my eyes in a former birth. If I could only marry my friend to her, then I should have bestowed upon him a new and wonderful recompense. So I had better first approach her to question her." Thus reflecting, my friend the Savara advanced to meet her. In the meanwhile she dismounted from the lion, that lay down in the shade, and advancing began to pick the lotuses of the lake. And seeing the Savara, who was a stranger, coming towards her and bowing, out of a hospitable feeling she gratified him with a welcome. And she said to him--"Who are you, and why have you come to this inaccessible land?" Thereupon the Savara answered her, "I am a prince of the Savaras, who regard the feet of Bhavání as my only refuge, and I am come to this wood to get pearls from the heads of elephants. But when I beheld you just now, O goddess, I called to mind my own friend that saved my life, the son of a merchant prince, the auspicious Vasudatta. For he, O fair one, is, like you, matchless for beauty and youth, a very fount of nectar to the eyes of this world. Happy is that maiden in the world, whose braceleted hand is taken in this life by that treasure-house of friendship, generosity, compassion, and patience. And if this beautiful form of yours is not linked to such a man, then I cannot help grieving that Káma bears the bow in vain." By these words of the king of the hunters the mind of the maiden was suddenly carried away, as if by the syllables of the god of Love's bewildering spell. And prompted by love, she said to that Savara, "Where is that friend of yours? Bring him here and shew him to me." When he heard that, he said--"I will do so," and that moment the Savara took leave of her and set out on his journey in high spirits, considering his object attained. And after he had reached his village, he took with him pearls and musk, a weight sufficient for hundreds of heavily-laden porters, and came to our house. There he was honoured by all the inmates, and entering it, he offered to my father that present, which was worth much gold. And after that day and that night had been spent in feasting, he related to me in private the story of his interview with the maiden from the very commencement. And he said to me, who was all excitement, "Come, let us go there," and so the Savara carried me off at night just as he pleased. And in the morning my father found that I had gone off somewhere with the Savara prince, but feeling perfect confidence in his affection, he remained master of his feelings. But I was conducted in course of time by that Savara, who travelled fast, to the Himálaya, and he tended me carefully throughout the journey.

And one evening we reached that lake, and bathed, and we remained that one night in the wood eating sweet fruits. That mountain wood, in which the creepers strewed the ground with flowers, and which was charming with the hum of bees, full of balmy gales, and with beautiful gleaming herbs for lamps, was like the chamber of Rati to repose in during the night for us two, who drank the water of the lake. Then, the next day that maiden came there, and at every step my mind, full of strange longings, flew to meet her, and her arrival was heralded by this my right eye, throbbing as if through eagerness to behold her. [343] And that maid with lovely eyebrows was beheld by me, on the back of a knotty-maned lion, like a digit of the moon resting in the lap of an autumn cloud; and I cannot describe how my heart felt at that time while I gazed on her, being full of tumultuous emotions of astonishment, longing, and fear; then that maiden dismounted from the lion, and gathered flowers, and after bathing in the lake, worshipped Siva who dwelt in the temple on its banks. [344] And when the worship was ended, that Savara, my friend, advanced towards her and announcing himself, bowed, and said to her who received him courteously; "Goddess, I have brought that friend of mine as a suitable bridegroom for you: if you think proper, I will shew him to you this moment." When she heard that, she said, "Shew him," and that Savara came and took me near her and shewed me to her. She looked at me askance with an eye that shed love, and being overcome by Cupid's taking possession of her soul, said to that chieftain of the Savaras; "This friend of yours is not a man, surely he is some god come here to deceive me to-day: how could a mortal have such a handsome shape?" When I heard that, I said myself to remove all doubt from her mind: "Fair one, I am in very truth a mortal, what is the use of employing fraud against one so honest as yourself, lady? For I am the son of a merchant named Mahádhana that dwells in Vallabhí, and I was gained by my father by the blessing of Siva. For he, when performing austerities to please the god of the moony crest, in order that he might obtain a son, was thus commanded by the god in a dream being pleased with him; 'Rise up, there shall spring from thee a great-hearted son, and this is a great secret, what is the use of setting it forth at length?' After hearing this, he woke up, and in course of time I was born to him as a son, and I am known by the name of Vasudatta. And long ago, when I went to a foreign land, I obtained this Savara chieftain for a chosen friend, who shewed himself a true helper in misfortune. This is a brief statement of the truth about me." When I had said this I ceased; and that maiden, with her face cast down from modesty, said--"It is so; to-day, I know, Siva being propitiated deigned to tell me in a dream, after I had worshipped him,--'To-morrow morning thou shalt obtain a husband:'--so you are my husband, and this friend of yours is my brother." When she had delighted me by this nectar-like speech, she ceased; and after I had deliberated with her, I determined to go to my own house with my friend, in order that the marriage might be solemnized in due form. Then that fair one summoned by a sign of her own that lion, on which she rode, and said to me, "Mount it, my husband," then I, by the advice of my friend, mounted the lion, and taking that beloved one in my arms, I set out thence for my home, having obtained all my objects, riding on the lion with my beloved, guided by that friend. And living on the flesh of the deer that he killed with his arrows, we all reached in course of time the city of Vallabhí. Then the people, seeing me coming along with my beloved, riding on a lion, being astonished, ran and told that fact quickly to my father. He too came to meet me in his joy, and when he saw me dismount from the lion and fall at his feet, he welcomed me with astonishment.

And when he saw that incomparable beauty adore his feet, and perceived that she was a fit wife for me, he could not contain himself for joy. So he entered the house, and after asking us about the circumstances, he made a great feast, praising the friendship of the Savara chieftain. And the next day, by the appointment of the astrologers, I married that excellent maiden, and all my friends and relations assembled to witness our wedding. And that lion, on which my wife had ridden, having witnessed the marriage, suddenly before the eyes of all, assumed the form of a man. Then all the by-standers were bewildered thinking--"What can this mean?" But he, assuming heavenly garments and ornaments, thus addressed me: "I am a Vidyádhara named Chitrángada, and this maiden is my daughter Manovatí by name, dearer to me than life. I used to wander continually through the forest with her in my arms, and one day I reached the Ganges, on the banks of which are many ascetic groves. And as I was going along in the middle of the river, for fear of disturbing the ascetics, my garland by accident fell into its waters. Then the hermit Nárada, who was under the water, suddenly rose up, and angry because the garland had fallen upon his back, cursed me in the following words: 'On account of this insolence, depart, wicked one, thou shalt become a lion, and repairing to the Himálaya, shalt carry this daughter upon thy back. And when thy daughter shall be taken in marriage by a mortal, then after witnessing the ceremony, thou shalt be freed from this curse.' After being cursed in these words by the hermit, I became a lion, and dwelt on the Himálaya carrying about this daughter of mine, who is devoted to the worship of Siva. And you know well the sequel of the story, how by the exertions of the Savara chieftain this highly auspicious event has been brought about. So I shall now depart; good luck to you all! I have now reached the termination of that curse." Having said this, that Vidyádhara immediately flew up into the sky. Then my father, overwhelmed with astonishment at the marvel, delighted at the eligible connection, and finding that his friends and relations were overjoyed, made a great feast. And there was not a single person who did not say with astonishment, reflecting again and again on that noble behaviour of the Savara chieftain--"Who can imagine the actions of sincere friends, who are not even satisfied when they have bestowed on their sworn brothers the gift of life?" The king of the land too, hearing of that occurrence, was exceedingly pleased with the affection which the Savara prince had shown me, and finding he was pleased, my father gave him a present of jewels, and so induced him immediately to bestow on the Savara a vast forest territory. Then I remained there in happiness, considering myself to have attained all that heart could wish, in having Manovatí for a wife, and the Savara prince for a friend. And that Savara chieftain generally lived in my house, finding that he took less pleasure in dwelling in his own country than he formerly did. And the time of us two friends, of him and me, was spent in continually conferring benefits upon one another without our ever being satisfied. And not long after I had a son born to me by Manovatí, who seemed like the heart-joy of the whole family in external visible form; and being called Hiranyadatta he gradually grew up, and after having been duly instructed, he was married. Then my father having witnessed that, and considering that the object of his life had been accomplished, being old, went to the Ganges with his wife to leave the body. Then I was afflicted by my father's death, but having been at last persuaded by my relations to control my feelings, I consented to uphold the burden of the family. And at that time on the one hand the sight of the beautiful face of Manovatí, and on the other the society of the Savara prince delighted me. Accordingly those days of mine passed, joyous from the goodness of my son, charming from the excellence of my wife, happy from the society of my friend.

Then, in course of time, I became well-stricken in years, and old age seized me by the chin, as it were out of love giving me this wholesome reproach--"Why are you remaining in the house so long as this, my son?" Then disgust with the world was suddenly produced in my breast, and longing for the forest I appointed my son in my stead. And with my wife I went to the mountain of Kálinjara, together with the king of the Savaras, who abandoned his kingdom out of love to me. And when I arrived there, I at once remembered that I had been a Vidyádhara in a former state of existence, and that the curse I had received from Siva had come to an end. And I immediately told my wife Manovatí of that, and my friend the king of the Savaras, as I was desirous of leaving this mortal body. I said--"May I have this wife and this friend in a future birth, and may I remember this birth," and then I meditated on Siva in my heart, and flung myself from that hill side, and so suddenly quitted the body together with that wife and friend. And so I have been now born, as you see, in this Vidyádhara family, under the name of Jímútaváhana, with a power of recollecting my former existence. And you, that prince of the Savaras, have been also born again by the favour of Siva, as Mitrávasu the son of Visvávasu the king of the Siddhas. And, my friend, that Vidyádhara lady, my wife Manovatí, has been again born as your sister Malayavatí by name. So your sister is my former wife, and you were my friend in a former state of existence, therefore it is quite proper that I should marry her. But first go and tell this to my parents, for if the matter is referred to them, your desire will be successfully accomplished.

When Mitrávasu heard this from Jímútaváhana, he was pleased, and he went and told all that to the parents of Jímútaváhana. And when they received his proposal gladly, he was pleased, and went and told that same matter to his own parents. And they were delighted at the accomplishment of their desire, and so the prince quickly prepared for the marriage of his sister. Then Jímútaváhana, honoured by the king of the Siddhas, received according to usage the hand of Malayavatí. And there was a great festival, in which the heavenly minstrels bustled about, the dense crowd of the Siddhas assembled, and which was enlivened by bounding Vidyádharas. Then Jímútaváhana was married, and remained on that Malaya mountain with his wife in very great prosperity. And once on a time he went with his brother-in-law Mitrávasu to behold the woods on the shore of the sea. And there he saw a young man come in an agitated state, sending away his mother, who kept exclaiming "Alas! my son!" And another man, who seemed to be a soldier, following him, conducted him to a broad and high slab of rock and left him there. Jímútaváhana said to him: "Who are you? What are you about to do, and why does your mother weep for you?" Then the man told him his story.

"Long ago Kadrú and Vinatá, the two wives of Kasyapa, had a dispute in the course of a conversation which they were carrying on. The former said that the Sun's horses were black, the latter that they were white, and they made an agreement that the one that was wrong should become a slave to the other. [345] Then Kadrú, bent on winning, actually induced her sons, the snakes, to defile the horses of the Sun by spitting venom over them; and shewing them to Vinatá in that condition, she conquered her by a trick and made her her slave: terrible is the spite of women against each other! When Garuda the son of Vinatá heard of that, he came and tried to induce Kadrú by fair means to release Vinatá from her slavery; then the snakes, the sons of Kadrú, reflecting, said this to him; 'O Garuda, the gods have began to churn the sea of milk, bring the nectar thence and give it to us as a substitute, and then take your mother away with you, for you are the chief of heroes.' When Garuda heard that, he went to the sea of milk, and displayed his great might in order to obtain the nectar. Then the god Vishnu pleased with his might deigned to say to him, 'I am pleased with thee, choose some boon.' Then Garuda, angry because his mother was made a slave, asked as a boon from Vishnu--'May the snakes become my food.' Vishnu consented, and when Garuda had obtained the nectar by his own valour, he was thus addressed by Indra who had heard the whole story: 'King of birds, you must take steps to prevent the foolish snakes from consuming the nectar, and to enable me to take it away from them again.' When Garuda heard that, he agreed to do it, and elated by the boon of Vishnu, he went to the snakes with the vessel containing the nectar.

And he said from a distance to those foolish snakes, who were terrified on account of the boon granted to him, "Here is the nectar brought by me, release my mother and take it; if you are afraid, I will put it for you on a bed of Darbha grass. When I have procured my mother's release, I will go; take the nectar thence." The snakes consented, and then he put the vessel of nectar on a pure bed of Kusa grass, [346] and they let his mother go. So Garuda departed, having thus released his mother from slavery; but while the snakes were unsuspectingly taking the nectar, Indra suddenly swooped down, and bewildering them by his power, carried off the vessel of nectar from the bed of Kusa grass. Then the snakes in despair licked that bed of Darbha grass, thinking there might be a drop of spilt nectar on it; the effect was that their tongues were split, and they became double-tongued for nothing. [347] What but ridicule can ever be the portion of the over-greedy? Then the snakes did not obtain the nectar of immortality, and their enemy Garuda, on the strength of Vishnu's boon, began to swoop down and devour them. And this he did again and again. And while he was thus attacking them, the snakes [348] in Pátála were dead with fear, the females miscarried, and the whole serpent race was well-nigh destroyed. And Vásuki the king of the snakes, seeing him there every day, considered that the serpent world was ruined at one blow: then, after reflecting, he preferred a petition to that Garuda of irresistible might, and made this agreement with him--"I will send you every day one snake to eat, O king of birds, on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea. But you must not act so foolishly as to enter Pátála, for by the destruction of the serpent world your own object will be baffled." When Vásuki said this to him, Garuda consented, and began to eat every day in this place one snake sent by him: and in this way innumerable serpents have met their death here. But I am a snake called Sankachúda, [349] and it is my turn to-day: for that reason I have to-day, by the command of the king of the snakes, in order to furnish a meal to Garuda, come to this rock of execution, and to be lamented by my mother."

When Jímútaváhana heard this speech of Sankachúda's, he was grieved, and felt sorrow in his heart and said to him, "Alas! Vásuki exercises his kingly power in a very cowardly fashion, in that with his own hand he conducts his subjects to serve as food for his enemy. Why did he not first offer himself to Garuda? To think of this effeminate creature choosing to witness the destruction of his race! And how great a sin does Garuda, though the son of Kasyapa, commit! How great folly do even great ones commit for the sake of the body only! So I will to-day deliver you alone from Garuda by surrendering my body. Do not be despondent, my friend." When Sankachúda heard this, he out of his firm patience said to him,--"This be far from thee, O great-hearted one, do not say so again. The destruction of a jewel for the sake of a piece of glass is never becoming. And I will never incur the reproach of having disgraced my race." In these words the good snake Sankachúda tried to dissuade Jímútaváhana, and thinking that the time of Garuda's arrival would come in a moment, he went to worship in his last hour an image of Siva under the name of Gokarna, that stood on the shore of the sea. And when he was gone, Jímútaváhana, that treasure-house of compassion, considered that he had gained an opportunity of offering himself up to save the snake's life. Thereupon he quickly dismissed Mitrávasu to his own house on the pretext of some business, artfully pretending that he himself had forgotten it. And immediately the earth near him trembled, being shaken by the wind of the wings of the approaching Garuda, as if through astonishment at his valour. That made Jímútaváhana think that the enemy of the snakes was approaching, and full of compassion for others he ascended the stone of execution. And in a moment Garuda swooped down, darkening the heaven with his shadow, and carried off that great-hearted one, striking him with his beak. He shed drops of blood, and his crest-jewel dropped off torn out by Garuda, who took him away and began to eat him on the peak of the mountain. At that moment a rain of flowers fell from heaven, and Garuda was astonished when he saw it, wondering what it could mean.

In the meanwhile Sankachúda came there, having worshipped Gokarna, and saw the rock of execution sprinkled with many drops of blood; then he thought--"Alas! surely that great-hearted one has offered himself for me, so I wonder where Garuda has taken him in this short time. I must search for him quickly, perhaps I may find him." Accordingly the good snake went following up the track of the blood. And in the meanwhile Garuda, seeing that Jímútaváhana was pleased, left off eating and thought with wonder: "This must be some one else, other than I ought to have taken, for though I am eating him, he is not at all miserable, on the contrary the resolute one rejoices." While Garuda was thinking this, Jímútaváhana, though in such a state, said to him in order to attain his object: "O king of birds, in my body also there is flesh and blood; then why have you suddenly stopped eating, though your hunger is not appeased?" When he heard that, that king of birds, being overpowered with astonishment, said to him--"Noble one, you are not a snake, tell me who you are." Jímútaváhana was just answering him, "I am a snake, [350] so eat me, complete what you have begun, for men of resolution never leave unfinished an undertaking they have begun," when Sankachúda arrived and cried out from afar, "Stop, stop, Garuda, he is not a snake, I am the snake meant for you, so let him go, alas! how have you suddenly come to make this mistake?" On hearing that, the king of birds was excessively bewildered, and Jímútaváhana was grieved at not having accomplished his desire. Then Garuda, learning, in the course of their conversation [351] with one another, that he had begun to devour by mistake the king of the Vidyádharas, was much grieved. He began to reflect, "Alas! in my cruelty I have incurred sin. In truth those who follow evil courses easily contract guilt. But this great-hearted one who has given his life for another, and despising [352] the world, which is altogether under the dominion of illusion, come to face me, deserves praise." Thinking thus, he was about to enter the fire to purify himself from guilt, when Jímútaváhana said to him: "King of birds, why do you despond? If you are really afraid of guilt, then you must determine never again to eat these snakes: and you must repent of eating all those previously devoured, for this is the only remedy available in this case, it was idle for you ever to think of any other." Thus Jímútaváhana, full of compassion for creatures, said to Garuda, and he was pleased and accepted the advice of that king, as if he had been his spiritual preceptor, determining to do what he recommended; and he went to bring nectar from heaven to restore to life rapidly that wounded prince, and the other snakes, whose bones only remained. Then the goddess Gaurí, pleased with Jímútaváhana's wife's devotion to her, came in person and rained nectar on him: by that his limbs were reproduced with increased beauty, and the sound of the drums of the rejoicing gods was heard at the same time. Then, on his rising up safe and sound, Garuda brought the nectar of immortality [353] from heaven, and sprinkled it along the whole shore of the sea. That made all the snakes there rise up alive, and then that forest along the shore of the sea, crowded with the numerous tribe of snakes, appeared like Pátála [354] come to behold Jímútaváhana, having lost its previous dread of Garuda. Then Jímútaváhana's relations congratulated him, having seen that he was glorious with unwounded body and undying fame. And his wife rejoiced with her relations, and his parents also. Who would not joy at pain ending in happiness? And with his permission Sankachúda departed to Rasátala, [355] and without it his glory, of its own accord, spread through the three worlds. Then, by virtue of the favour of the daughter of the Himálaya all his relations, Matanga and others, who were long hostile to him, came to Garuda, before whom the troops of gods were inclining out of love, and timidly approaching the glory of the Vidyádhara race, prostrated themselves at his feet. And being entreated by them, the benevolent Jímútaváhana went from that Malaya mountain to his own home, the slope of the Himálaya. There, accompanied by his parents and Mitrávasu and Malayavatí, the resolute one long enjoyed the honour of emperor of the Vidyádharas. Thus a course of fortunate events always of its own accord follows the footsteps of all those, whose exploits arouse the admiration of the three worlds. When the queen Vásavadattá heard this story from the mouth of Yaugandharáyana, she rejoiced, as she was eager to hear of the splendour of her unborn son. Then, in the society of her husband, she spent that day in conversation about her son, who was to be the future king of the Vidyádharas, which was suggested by that story, for she placed unfailing reliance upon the promise of the favouring gods.

Chapter XXIII

Then Vásavadattá on the next day said to the king of Vatsa in private, while he was surrounded by his ministers;--"My husband, ever since I have been pregnant with this child, the difficult duty of taking care of it afflicts my heart; and last night, after thinking over it long, I fell asleep with difficulty, and I am persuaded I saw a certain man come in my dream, glorious with a shape distinguished by matted auburn locks and a trident-bearing hand; and he approaching me, said as if moved by compassion,--'My daughter, you need not feel at all anxious about the child with which you are pregnant, I will protect it, for I gave it to you. And hear something more, which I will tell you to make you confide in me; a certain woman waits to make a petition to you to-morrow, she will come dragging her husband with her as a prisoner, reviling him, accompanied by five sons, begirt with many relations: and she is a wicked woman who desires by the help of her relations to get that husband of hers put to death, and all that she will say will be false. And you, my daughter, must beforehand inform the king of Vatsa about this matter, in order that that good man may be freed from that wicked wife.' This command that august one gave and vanished, and I immediately woke up, and lo! the morning had come." When the queen had said that, all spoke of the favour of Siva, and were astonished, their minds eagerly expecting the fulfilment of the dream; when lo! at that very moment the chief warder entered, and suddenly said to the king of Vatsa, who was compassionate to the afflicted, "O king, a certain woman has come to make a representation, accompanied by her relations, bringing with her five sons, reviling her helpless husband." When the king heard that, being astonished at the way it tallied with the queen's dream, he commanded the warder to bring her into his presence. And the queen Vásavadattá felt the greatest delight, having become certain that she would obtain a good son, on account of the truth of the dream. Then that woman entered by the command of the warder, accompanied by her husband, looked at with curiosity by all, who had their faces turned towards the door. Then, having entered, she assumed an expression of misery, and making a bow according to rule, she addressed the king in council accompanied by the queen: "This man, though he is my husband, does not give to me, helpless woman that I am, food, raiment, and other necessaries, and yet I am free from blame with respect to him."

When she had said this, her husband pleaded--"King, this woman speaks falsely, supported by her relations, for she wishes me to be put to death. For I have given her supplies beforehand to last till the end of the year, and other relations of hers, who are impartial, are prepared to witness the truth of this for me." When he had said this to the king, the king of his own accord answered: "The trident-bearing god himself has given evidence in this case, appearing to the queen in a dream. What need have we of more witnesses? This woman with her relations must be punished." When the king had delivered this judgment, the discreet Yaugandharáyana said, "Nevertheless, king, we must do what is right in accordance with the evidence of witnesses, otherwise the people, not knowing of the dream, would in no wise believe in the justice of our proceedings." When the king heard that, he consented and had the witnesses summoned that moment, and they, being asked, deposed that that woman was speaking falsely. Then the king banished her, as she was plotting against one well known to be a good husband, from his territory, with her relations and her sons. And with heart melting from pity he discharged her good husband, after giving him much treasure sufficient for another marriage. And in connexion with the whole affair the king remarked,--"An evil wife, of wildly [356] cruel nature, tears her still living husband like a she-wolf, when he has fallen into the pit of calamity; but an affectionate, noble, and magnanimous wife averts sorrow as the shade [357] of the wayside-tree averts heat, and is acquired by a man's special merits." Then Vasantaka, who was a clever story-teller, being at the king's side, said to him à propos of this: "Moreover, king, hatred and affection are commonly produced in living beings in this world owing to their continually recalling the impressions of a past state of existence, and in proof of this, hear the story which I am about to tell."

Story of Sinhaparákrama.

There was a king in Benares named Vikramachanda, and he had a favourite follower named Sinhaparákrama; who was wonderfully successful in all battles and in all gambling contests. And he had a wife very deformed both in body and mind, called by a name, which expressed her nature, Kalahakárí. [358] This brave man continually obtained much money both from the king and from gambling, and, as soon as he got it, he gave it all to his wife. But the shrewish woman, backed by her three sons begotten by him, could not in spite of this remain one moment without a quarrel. She continually worried him by yelling out these words at him with her sons--"You are always eating and drinking away from home, and you never give us anything." And though he was for ever trying to propitiate her with meat, drink, and raiment, she tortured him day and night like an interminable thirst. Then, at last, Sinhaparákrama vexed with indignation on that account, left his house, and went on a pilgrimage to the goddess Durgá that dwells in the Vindhya hills. While he was fasting, the goddess said to him in a dream: "Rise up, my son, go to thy own city of Benares; there is an enormous nyagrodha tree, by digging round its root thou wilt at once obtain a treasure. And in the treasure thou wilt find a dish of emerald, bright as a sword-blade, looking like a piece of the sky fallen down to earth; casting thy eyes on that, thou wilt see, as it were, reflected inside, the previous existence of every individual, in whatever case thou mayest wish to know it. By means of that thou wilt learn the previous birth of thy wife and of thyself, and having learned the truth wilt dwell there in happiness free from grief." Having thus been addressed by the goddess, Sinhaparákrama woke up and broke his fast, and went in the morning to Benares; and after he had reached the city, he found at the root of the nyagrodha tree a treasure, and in it he discovered a large emerald dish, and, eager to learn the truth, he saw in that dish that in a previous birth his wife had been a terrible she-bear, and himself a lion. And so recognising that the hatred between himself and his wife was irremediable owing to the influence of bitter enmity in a previous birth, he abandoned grief and bewilderment. Then Sinhaparákrama examined many maidens by means of the dish, and discovering that they had belonged to alien races in a previous birth, he avoided them, but after he had discovered one, who had been a lioness in a previous birth and so was a suitable match for him, he married her as his second wife, and her name was Sinhasrí. And after assigning to that Kalahakárí one village only as her portion, he lived, delighted with the acquisition of treasure, in the society of his new wife. Thus, O king, wives and others are friendly or hostile to men in this world by virtue of impressions in a previous state of existence.

When the king of Vatsa had heard this wonderful story from Vasantaka, he was exceedingly delighted and so was the queen Vásavadattá. And the king was never weary day or night of contemplating the moon-like face of the pregnant queen. And as days went on, there were born to all of his ministers in due course sons with auspicious marks, who heralded approaching good fortune. First there was born to Yaugandharáyana, the chief minister, a son Marubhúti by name. Then Rumanvat had a son called Harisikha, and to Vasantaka there was born a son named Tapantaka. And to the head-warder called Nityodita, whose other title was Ityaka, [359] there was born a son named Gomukha. And after they were born a great feast took place, and during it a bodiless voice was heard from heaven--"These ministers shall crush the race of the enemies of the son of the king of Vatsa here, the future universal emperor. And as days went by, the time drew near for the birth of the child, with which the queen Vásavadattá was destined to present the king of Vatsa, and she repaired to the ornamented lying-in-chamber, which was prepared by matrons having sons, and the windows of which were covered with arka and samí plants. The room was hung with various weapons, rendered auspicious by being mixed with the gleam of jewel-lamps, shedding a blaze [360] able to protect the child; and secured by conjurers who went through innumerable charms and spells and other incantations, so that it became a fortress of the matrons hard for calamity to storm, and there she brought forth in good time a prince of lovely aspect, as the heaven brings forth the moon from which stream pure nectarous rays. The child, when born, not only irradiated that room, but the heart also of that mother from which the darkness of grief had departed; then, as the delight of the inmates of the harem was gradually extended, the king heard of the birth of a son from the people who were admitted to it; the reason he did not give his kingdom in his delight to the person, who announced it, was, that he was afraid of committing an impropriety, not that he was avaricious. And so the king, suddenly coming to the harem with longing mind, beheld his son, and his hope bore fruit after a long delay. The child had a long red lower lip like a leaf, beautiful flowing hair like wool, and his whole face was like the lotus, which the goddess of the Fortune of empire carries for her delight. He was marked on his soft feet with umbrellas and chowries, as if the Fortunes of other kings had beforehand abandoned their badges in his favour, out of fear. Then, while the king shed with tearful eye, that swelled with the pressure of the fulness of the weight of his joy, drops that seemed to be drops of paternal affection, [361] and the ministers with Yaugandharáyana at their head rejoiced, a voice was heard from heaven at that time to the following effect:

"King, this son that is born to thee is an incarnation of Káma, [362] and know that his name is Naraváhanadatta; and he will soon become emperor of the kings of the Vidyádharas, and maintain that position unwearied for a kalpa of the gods." [363] When so much had been said, the voice stopped, and immediately a rain of flowers fell from heaven, and the sounds of the celestial drums went forth. Then the king, excessively delighted, made a great feast, which was rendered all the more solemn from the gods having begun it. The sound of cymbals floated in the air rising from temples, as if to tell all the Vidyádharas of the birth of their king: and red banners, flying in the wind on the tops of the palaces, seemed with their splendour to fling red dye to one another. On earth beautiful women assembled and danced everywhere, as if they were the nymphs of heaven glad that the god of love had been born with a body. [364] And the whole city appeared equally splendid with new dresses and ornaments bestowed by the rejoicing king. For while that rich king rained riches upon his dependants, nothing but the treasury was empty. And the ladies belonging to the families of the neighbouring chieftains came in from all sides, with auspicious prayers, versed in the good custom, [365] accompanied by dancing girls, bringing with them splendid presents, escorted by various excellent guards, attended with the sound of musical instruments, like all the cardinal points in bodily form. Every movement there was of the nature of a dance, every word uttered was attended with full vessels, [366] every action was of the nature of munificence, the city resounded with musical instruments, the people were adorned with red powder, and the earth was covered with bards,--all these things were so in that city which was all full of festivity. Thus the great feast was carried on with increasing magnificence for many days, and did not come to an end before the wishes of the citizens were fully satisfied. And as days went on, that infant prince grew like the new moon, and his father bestowed on him with appropriate formalities the name of Naraváhanadatta, which had been previously assigned him by the heavenly voice. His father was delighted when he saw him make his first two or three tottering steps, in which gleamed the sheen of his smooth fair toe-nails, and when he heard him utter his first two or three indistinct words, shewing his teeth which looked like buds. Then the excellent ministers brought to the infant prince their infant sons, who delighted the heart of the king, and commended them to him. First Yaugandharáyana brought Marubhúti, and then Rumanvat Harisikha, and then the head-warder named Ityaka brought Gomukha, and Vasantaka his son named Tapantaka. And the domestic chaplain Sántikara presented the two twin sons of Pingaliká, his nephews Sántisoma and Vaisvánara. And at that moment there fell from heaven a rain of flowers from the gods, which a shout of joy made all the more auspicious, and the king rejoiced with the queens, having bestowed presents on that company of ministers' sons. And that prince Naraváhanadatta was always surrounded by those six ministers' sons devoted to him alone, who commanded respect even in their boyhood, [367] as if with the six political measures that are the cause of great prosperity. The days of the lord of Vatsa passed in great happiness, while he gazed affectionately on his son with his smiling lotus-like face, going from lap to lap of the kings whose minds were lovingly attached to him, and making in his mirth a charming indistinct playful prattling.

Chapter XXIV

May Ganesa, painting the earth with mosaic by means of the particles of red lead flying from his trunk whirled round in his madness, [368] and so, as it were, burning up obstacles with the flames of his might, protect you.

Thus the king of Vatsa and his queen remained engaged in bringing up their only son Naraváhanadatta, and once on a time the minister Yaugandharáyana, seeing the king anxious about taking care of him, said to him as he was alone,--"King, you must never feel any anxiety now about the prince Naraváhanadatta, for he has been created by the adorable god Siva in your house as the future emperor over the kings of the Vidyádharas; and by their divine power the kings of the Vidyádharas have found this out, and meaning mischief have become troubled, unable in their hearts to endure it; and knowing this, the god with the moon-crest has appointed a prince of the Ganas, [369] Stambhaka by name, to protect him. And he remains here invisible, protecting this son of yours, and Nárada coming swiftly informed me of this." While the minister was uttering these words, there descended from the midst of the air a divine man wearing a diadem and a bracelet, and armed with a sword. He bowed, and then the king of Vatsa, after welcoming him, immediately asked him with curiosity: "Who are you, and what is your errand here?" He said, "I was once a mortal, but I have now become a king of the Vidyádharas, named Saktivega and I have many enemies. I have found out by my power that your son is destined to be our emperor, and I have come to see him, O king." When Saktivega, over-awed at the sight of his future emperor, had said this, the king of Vatsa was pleased and again asked him in his astonishment, "How can the rank of a Vidyádhara be attained, and of what nature is it, and how did you obtain it? Tell me this, my friend." When he heard this speech of the king's, that Vidyádhara Saktivega courteously bowing, answered him thus, "O king, resolute souls having propitiated Siva either in this or in a former birth, obtain by his favour the rank of Vidyádhara. And that rank, denoted by the insignia of supernatural knowledge, of sword, garland and so on, is of various kinds, but listen! I will tell you how I obtained it. Having said this, Saktivega told the following story, relating to himself, in the presence of the queen Vásavadattá.

Story of Saktivega king of the Vidyádharas.

There lived long ago in a city called Vardhamána, [370] the ornament of the earth, a king the terror of his foes, called Paropakárin. And this exalted monarch possessed a queen of the name of Kanakaprabhá, [371] as the cloud holds the lightning, but she had not the fickleness of the lightning. And in course of time there was born to him by that queen a daughter, who seemed to have been formed by the Creator to dash Lakshmí's pride in her beauty. And that moon of the eyes of the world was gradually reared to womanhood by her father, who gave her the name of Kanakarekhá suggested by her mother's name Kanakaprabhá. Once on a time, when she had grown up, the king, her father, said to the queen Kanakaprabhá, who came to him in secret: "A grown up daughter cannot be kept in one's house, accordingly Kanakarekhá troubles my heart with anxiety about a suitable marriage for her. For a maiden of good family, who does not obtain a proper position, is like a song out of tune; when heard of by the ears even of one unconnected with her, she causes distress. But a daughter, who through folly is made over to one not suitable, is like learning imparted to one not fit to receive it, and cannot tend to glory or merit but only to regret. So I am very anxious as to what king I must give this daughter of mine to, and who will be a fit match for her." When Kanakaprabhá heard this, she laughed and said,--"You say this, but your daughter does not wish to be married; for to-day when she was playing with a doll and making believe it was a child, I said to her in fun, 'My daughter, when shall I see you married?' When she heard that, she answered me reproachfully: 'Do not say so, you must not marry me to any one; and my separation from you is not appointed, I do well enough as a maiden, but if I am married, know that I shall be a corpse; there is a certain reason for this.' As she has said this to me I have come to you, O king, in a state of distress; for, as she has refused to be married, what use is there in deliberating about a bridegroom?" When the king heard this from the queen, he was bewildered, and going to the private apartments of the princess he said to his daughter: "When the maidens of the gods and Asuras practise austerities in order to obtain a husband, why, my daughter, do you refuse to take one?' When the princess Kanakarekhá heard this speech of her father's, she fixed her eyes on the ground and said, Father, I do not desire to be married at present, so what object has my father in it, and why does he insist upon it?" That king Paropakárin, when his daughter addressed him in that way, being the discreetest of men, thus answered her: "How can sin be avoided unless a daughter is given in marriage? And independence is not fit for a maiden who ought to be in dependence on relations? For a daughter in truth is born for the sake of another and is kept for him. The house of her father is not a fit place for her except in childhood. For if a daughter reaches puberty unmarried, her relations go to hell, and she is an outcast, and her bridegroom is called the husband of an outcast." When her father said this to her, the princess Kanakarekhá immediately uttered a speech that was in her mind, "Father, if this is so, then whatever Bráhman or Kshatriya has succeeded in seeing the city called the Golden City, to him I must be given, and he shall be my husband, and if none such is found, you must not unjustly reproach me." When his daughter said that to him, that king reflected: "It is a good thing at any rate that she has agreed to be married on a certain condition, and no doubt she is some goddess born in my house for a special reason, for else how comes she to know so much though she is a child?" Such were the king's reflections at that time: so he said to his daughter, "I will do as you wish," and then he rose up and did his day's work. And on the next day, as he was sitting in the hall of audience, he said to his courtiers, "Has any one among you seen the city called the Golden City? Whoever has seen it, if he be a Bráhman or a Kshatriya, I will give him my daughter Kanakarekhá, and make him crown-prince." And they all, looking at one another's faces, said, "We have not even heard of it, much less have we seen it." Then the king summoned the warder and said to him, "Go and cause a proclamation to be circulated in the whole of this town with the beating of drums, and find out if any one has really seen that city." When the warder received this order, he said, "I will do so," and went out; and after he had gone out, he immediately gave orders to the police, and caused a drum to be beaten all round the city, thus arousing curiosity to hear the proclamation, which ran as follows: "Whatever Bráhman or Kshatriya youth has seen the city called the Golden City, let him speak, and the king will give him his daughter and the rank of crown-prince." Such was the astounding announcement proclaimed all about the town after the drum had been beaten. And the citizens said, after hearing that proclamation: "What is this Golden City that is to-day proclaimed in our town, which has never been heard of or seen even by those among us who are old?" But not a single one among them said, "I have seen it."

And in the meanwhile a Bráhman living in that town, Saktideva by name, the son of Baladeva, heard that proclamation; that youth, being addicted to vice, had been rapidly stripped of his wealth at the gaming-table, and he reflected, being excited by hearing of the giving in marriage of the king's daughter: "As I have lost all my wealth by gambling, I cannot now enter the house of my father, nor even the house of a hetæra, so, as I have no resource, it is better for me to assert falsely to those who are making the proclamation by beat of drum, that I have seen that city. Who will discover that I know nothing about it, for who has ever seen it? And in this way I may perhaps marry the princess." Thus reflecting Saktideva went to the police, and said falsely, "I have seen that city." They immediately said to him, "Bravo! then come with us to the king's warder." So he went with them to the warder. And in the same way he falsely asserted to him that he had seen that city, and he welcomed him kindly, and took him to the king. And without wavering he maintained the very same story in the presence of the king: what indeed is difficult for a blackleg to do who is ruined by play? Then the king, in order to ascertain the truth, sent that Bráhman to his daughter Kanakarekhá, and when she heard of the matter from the mouth of the warder, and the Bráhman came near, she asked him: "Have you seen that Golden City?" Then he answered her, "Yes, that city was seen by me when I was roaming through the earth in quest of knowledge." [372] She next asked him, "By what road did you go there, and what is it like?" That Bráhman then went on to say: "From this place I went to a town called Harapura, and from that I next came to the city of Benares; and from Benares in a few days to the city of Paundravardhana, thence I went to that city called the Golden City, and I saw it, a place of enjoyment for those who act aright, like the city of Indra, the glory of which is made for the delight of gods. [373] And having acquired learning there, I returned here after some time; such is the path by which I went, and such is that city." After that fraudulent Bráhman Saktideva had made up this story, the princess said with a laugh;--"Great Bráhman, you have indeed seen that city, but tell me, tell me again by what path you went." When Saktideva heard that, he again displayed his effrontery, and then the princess had him put out by her servants. And immediately after putting him out, she went to her father, and her father asked her: "Did that Bráhman speak the truth?"--And then the princess said to her father: "Though you are a king you act without due consideration; do you not know that rogues deceive honest people? For that Bráhman simply wants to impose on me with a falsehood, but the liar has never seen the golden city. And all kinds of deceptions are practised on the earth by rogues; for listen to the story of Siva and Mádhava, which I will tell you." Having said this, the princess told the following tale:

Story of Siva and Mádhava.

There is an excellent city rightly named Ratnapura, [374] and in it there were two rogues named Siva and Mádhava. Surrounding themselves with many other rogues, they contrived for a long time to rob, by making use of trickery, all the rich men in the town. And one day those two deliberated together and said--"We have managed by this time to plunder this town thoroughly; so let us now go and live in the city of Ujjayiní; there we hear that there is a very rich man named Sankarasvámin, who is chaplain to the king. If we cheat him out of his money we may thereby enjoy the charms of the ladies of Málava. He is spoken of by Bráhmans as a miser, because he withholds [375] half their usual fee with a frowning face, though he possesses treasure enough to fill seven vessels; and that Bráhman has a pearl of a daughter spoken of as matchless, we will manage to get her too out of him along with the money." Having thus determined, and having arranged beforehand what part each was to play, the two rogues Siva and Mádhava went out of that town. At last they reached Ujjayiní, and Mádhava, with his attendants, disguised as a Rájpút, remained in a certain village outside the town. But Siva, who was expert in every kind of deception, having assumed perfectly the disguise of a religious ascetic, first entered that town alone. There he took up his quarters in a hut on the banks of the Siprá, in which he placed, so that they could be seen, clay, darbha grass, a vessel for begging, and a deer-skin. And in the morning he anointed his body with thick clay, as if testing beforehand his destined smearing with the mud of the hell Avíchi. And plunging in the water of the river, he remained a long time with his head downward, as if rehearsing beforehand his future descent to hell, the result of his evil actions. And when he rose up from his bath, he remained a long time looking up towards the sun, as if shewing that he deserved to be impaled. Then he went into the presence of the god and making rings of Kusa grass, [376] and muttering prayers, he remained sitting in the posture called Padmásana, [377] with a hypocritical cunning face, and from time to time he made an offering to Vishnu, having gathered white flowers, even as he took captive the simple hearts of the good by his villainy; and having made his offering he again pretended to betake himself to muttering his prayers, and prolonged his meditations as if fixing his attention on wicked ways. And the next day, clothed in the skin of a black antelope, he wandered about the city in quest of alms, like one of his own deceitful leers intended to beguile it, and observing a strict silence he took three handfuls of rice from Bráhmans' houses, still equipped with stick and deer-skin, and divided the food into three parts like the three divisions of the day, and part he gave to the crows, and part to his guest, and with the third part he filled his maw; and he remained for a long time hypocritically telling his beads, as if he were counting his sins at the same time, and muttering prayers; and in the night he remained alone in his hut, thinking over the weak points of his fellow-men, even the smallest; and by thus performing every day a difficult pretended penance he gained complete ascendancy over the minds of the citizens in every quarter. And all the people became devoted to him, and a report spread among them in every direction that Siva was an exceedingly self-denying hermit.

And in the meanwhile his accomplice, the other rogue Mádhava, having heard from his emissaries how he was getting on, entered that city; and taking up his abode there in a distant temple, he went to the bank of the Siprá to bathe, disguised as a Rájpút, and after bathing, as he was returning with his retinue, he saw Siva praying in front of the god, and with great veneration he fell at his feet, and said before all the people, "There is no other such ascetic in the world, for he has been often seen by me going round from one holy place to another." But Siva, though he saw him, kept his neck immoveable out of cunning, and remained in the same position as before, and Mádhava returned to his own lodging. And at night those two met together and ate and drank, and deliberated over the rest of their programme, what they must do next. And in the last watch of the night Siva went back leisurely to his hut. And in the morning Mádhava said to one of his gang, "Take these two garments and give them as a present to the domestic chaplain of the king here, who is called Sankarasvámin, and say to him respectfully: 'There is a Rájpút come from the Deccan of the name of Mádhava, who has been oppressed by his relations, and he brings with him much inherited wealth; he is accompanied by some other Rájpúts like himself, and he wishes to enter into the service of your king here, and he has sent me to visit you, O treasure-house of glory.'" The rogue, who was sent off by Mádhava with this message, went to the house of that chaplain with the present in his hand, and after approaching him, and giving him the present at a favourable moment, he delivered to him in private Mádhava's message, as he had been ordered; he, for his part, out of his greed for presents, believed it all, anticipating other favours in the future, for a bribe is the sovereign specific for attracting the covetous. The rogue then came back, and on the next day Mádhava, having obtained a favourable opportunity, went in person to visit that chaplain, accompanied by attendants, who hypocritically assumed the appearance of men desiring service, [378] passing themselves off as Rájpúts, distinguished by the maces they carried; he had himself announced by an attendant preceding him, and thus he approached the family priest, who received him with welcomes which expressed his delight at his arrival. Then Mádhava remained engaged in conversation with him for some time, and at last being dismissed by him, returned to his own house. On the next day he sent another couple of garments as a present, and again approached that chaplain and said to him, "I indeed wish to enter into service to please my retainers, for that reason I have repaired to you, but I possess wealth." When the chaplain heard that, he hoped to get something out of him, and he promised Mádhava to procure for him what he desired, and he immediately went and petitioned the king on this account, and, out of respect for the chaplain, the king consented to do what he asked. And on the next day the family priest took Mádhava and his retinue, and presented them to the king with all due respect. The king too, when he saw that Mádhava resembled a Rájpút in appearance, received him graciously and appointed him a salary. Then Mádhava remained there in attendance upon the king, and every night he met Siva to deliberate with him. And the chaplain entreated him to live with him in his house, out of avarice, as he was intent on presents.

Then Mádhava with his followers repaired to the house of the chaplain; this settlement was the cause of the chaplain's ruin, as that of the mouse in the trunk of the tree was the cause of its ruin. And he deposited a safe in the strong room of the chaplain, after filling it with ornaments made of false gems. And from time to time he opened the box and by cunningly half-shewing some of the jewels, he captivated the mind of the chaplain as that of a cow is captivated by grass. And when he had gained in this way the confidence of the chaplain, he made his body emaciated by taking little food, and falsely pretended that he was ill. And after a few days had passed, that prince of rogues said with weak voice to that chaplain, who was at his bedside; "My condition is miserable in this body, so bring, good Bráhman, some distinguished man of your caste, in order that I may bestow my wealth upon him for my happiness here and hereafter, for, life being unstable, what care can a wise man have for riches?" That chaplain, who was devoted to presents, when addressed in this way, said, "I will do so," and Mádhava fell at his feet. Then whatever Bráhman the chaplain brought, Mádhava refused to receive, pretending that he wanted a more distinguished one. One of the rogues in attendance upon Mádhava, when he saw this, said--"Probably an ordinary Bráhman does not please him. So it will be better now to find out whether the strict ascetic on the banks of Siprá named Siva pleases him or not?" When Mádhava heard that, he said plaintively to that chaplain: "Yes, be kind, and bring him, for there is no other Bráhman like him."

The chaplain, thus entreated, went near Siva, and beheld him immoveable, pretending to be engaged in meditation. And then he walked round him, keeping him on his right hand, and sat down in front of him: and immediately the rascal slowly opened his eyes. Then the family priest, bending before him, said with bowed head,--"My Lord, if it will not make you angry, I will prefer a petition to you. There is dwelling here a very rich Rájpút from the Deccan, named Mádhava, and he, being ill, is desirous of giving away his whole property: if you consent, he will give you that treasure which glitters with many ornaments made out of priceless gems." When Siva heard that, he slowly broke silence, and said,--"O Bráhman, since I live on alms, and observe perpetual chastity, of what use are riches to me?" Then that chaplain went on to say to him, "Do not say that, great Bráhman, do you not know the due order of the periods in the life of a Bráhman? [379] By marrying a wife, and performing in his house offerings to the Manes, sacrifices to the gods and hospitality to guests, he uses his property to obtain the three objects of life; [380] the stage of the householder is the most useful of all." Then Siva said, "How can I take a wife, for I will not marry a woman from any low family?" When the covetous chaplain heard that, he thought that he would be able to enjoy his wealth at will, and, catching at the opportunity, he said to him: "I have an unmarried daughter named Vinayasváminí, and she is very beautiful, I will bestow her in marriage on you. And I will keep for you all the wealth which you receive as a donation from Mádhava, so enter on the duties of a householder." When Siva heard this, having got the very thing he wanted, he said, "Bráhman, if your heart is set on this, [381] I will do what you say. But I am an ascetic who knows nothing about gold and jewels: I shall act as you advise; do as you think best." When the chaplain heard that speech of Siva's, he was delighted, and the fool said, "Agreed"--and conducted Siva to his house. And when he had introduced there that inauspicious guest named Siva, [382] he told Mádhava what he had done and was applauded by him. And immediately he gave Siva his daughter, who had been carefully brought up, and in giving her he seemed to be giving away his own prosperity lost by his folly. And on the third day after his marriage, he took him to Mádhava who was pretending to be ill, to receive his present. And Mádhava rose up and fell at his feet and said what was quite true, "I adore thee whose asceticism is incomprehensible." [383] And in accordance with the prescribed form he bestowed on Siva that box of ornaments made of many sham jewels, which was brought from the chaplain's treasury. Siva for his part, after receiving it, gave it into the hand of the chaplain, saying, "I know nothing about this, but you do." And that priest immediately took it, saying, "I undertook to do this long ago, why should you trouble yourself about it?" Then Siva gave them his blessing, and went to his wife's private apartments, and the chaplain took the box and put it in his strong room. Mádhava for his part gradually desisted from feigning sickness, affecting to feel better the next day, and said that his disease had been cured by virtue of his great gift. And he praised the chaplain when he came near, saying to him, "It was by your aiding me in an act of faith that I tided over this calamity." And he openly struck up a friendship with Siva, asserting that it was due to the might of Siva's holiness that his life had been saved. Siva, for his part, after some days said to the chaplain: "How long am I to feast in your house in this style? Why do you not take from me those jewels for some fixed sum of money? If they are valuable, give me a fair price for them." When the priest heard that, thinking that the jewels were of incalculable value, he consented, and gave to Siva as purchase-money his whole living. And he made Siva sign a receipt for the sum with his own hand, and he himself too signed a receipt for the jewels, thinking that that treasure far exceeded his own wealth in value. And they separated, taking one another's receipts, and the chaplain lived in one place, while Siva kept house in another. And then Siva and Mádhava dwelt together and remained there leading a very pleasant life consuming the chaplain's wealth. And as time went on, that chaplain, being in need of cash, went to the town to sell one of the ornaments in the bazar.

Then the merchants, who were connoisseurs in jewels, said after examining it, "Ha! the man who made these sham jewels was a clever fellow, whoever he was. For this ornament is composed of pieces of glass and quartz coloured with various colours and fastened together with brass, and there are no gems or gold in it." When the chaplain heard that, he went in his agitation and brought all the ornaments from his house, and showed them to the merchants. When they saw them, they said that all of them were composed of sham jewels in the same way; but the chaplain, when he heard that, was, so to speak, thunderstruck. And immediately the fool went off and said to Siva, "Take back your ornaments and give me back my own wealth." But Siva answered him, "How can I possibly have retained your wealth till now? Why it has all in course of time been consumed in my house." Then the chaplain and Siva fell into an altercation, and went, both of them, before the king, at whose side Mádhava was standing. And the chaplain made this representation to the king: "Siva has consumed all my substance, taking advantage of my not knowing that a great treasure, which he deposited in my house, [384] was composed of skilfully coloured pieces of glass and quartz fastened together with brass." Then Siva said, "King, from my childhood I have been a hermit, and I was persuaded by that man's earnest petition to accept a donation, and when I took it, though inexperienced in the ways of the world, I said to him, 'I am no connoisseur in jewels and things of that kind, and I rely upon you,' and he consented saying, 'I will be your warrant in the matter.' And I accepted all the donation and deposited it in his hand. Then he bought the whole from me at his own price, and we hold from one another mutual receipts; and now it is in the king's power to grant me help in my sorest need." Siva having thus finished his speech, Mádhava said, "Do not say this, you are honourable, but what fault have I committed in the matter? I never received anything either from you or from Siva; I had some wealth inherited from my father, which I had long deposited elsewhere; then I brought that wealth and presented it to a Bráhman. If the gold is not real gold, and the jewels are not real jewels, then let us suppose that I have reaped fruit from giving away brass, quartz, and glass. But the fact that I was persuaded with sincere heart that I was giving something, is clear from this, that I recovered from a very dangerous illness." When Mádhava said this to him without any alteration in the expression of his face, the king laughed and all his ministers, and they were highly delighted. And those present in court said, laughing in their sleeves, "Neither Mádhava nor Siva has done anything unfair." Thereupon that chaplain departed with downcast countenance, having lost his wealth. For of what calamities is not the blinding of the mind with excessive greed the cause? And so those two rogues Siva and Mádhava long remained there, happy in having obtained the favour of the delighted king.

"Thus do rogues spread the webs of their tongue with hundreds of intricate threads, like fishermen upon dry land, living by the net. So you may be certain, my father, that this Bráhman is a case in point. By falsely asserting that he has seen the City of Gold, he wishes to deceive you, and to obtain me for a wife. So do not be in a hurry to get me married; I shall remain unmarried at present, and we will see what will happen." When the king Paropakárin heard this from his daughter Kanakarekhá, he thus answered her: "When a girl is grown up, it is not expedient that she should remain long unmarried, for wicked people envious of good qualities, falsely impute sin. And people are particularly fond of blackening the character of one distinguished; to illustrate this, listen to the story of Harasvámin which I am about to tell you."

Story of Harasvámin. [385]

There is a city on the banks of the Ganges named Kusumapura, [386] and in it there was an ascetic who visited holy places, named Harasvámin. He was a Bráhman living by begging; and constructing a hut on the banks of the Ganges, he became, on account of his surprisingly rigid asceticism, the object of the people's respect. [387] And one day a wicked man among the inhabitants, who could not tolerate his virtue, seeing him from a distance going out to beg, said, "Do you know what a hypocritical ascetic that is? It is he that has eaten up all the children in this town." When a second there who was like him, heard this, he said, "It is true, I also have heard people saying this." And a third confirming it said, "Such is the fact." The chain of villains' conversation binds reproach on the good. And in this way the report spread from ear to ear, and gained general credence in the city. And all the citizens kept their children by force in their houses, saying, "Harasvámin carries off all the children and eats them." And then the Bráhmans in that town, afraid that their offspring would be destroyed, assembled and deliberated about his banishment from the city. And as they did not dare to tell him face to face, for fear he might perhaps eat them up in his rage, they sent messengers to him. And those messengers went and said to him from a distance; "The Bráhmans command you to depart from this city." Then in his astonishment he asked them "Why?" And they went on to say; "You eat every child as soon as you see it." When Harasvámin heard that, he went near those Bráhmans, in order to reassure them, and the people fled before him for fear. And the Bráhmans, as soon as they saw him, were terrified and went up to the top of their monastery. People who are deluded by reports are not, as a rule, capable of discrimination. Then Harasvámin standing below called all the Bráhmans who were above, one by one, by name, and said to them, "What delusion is this, Bráhmans? Why do you not ascertain with one another how many children I have eaten, and whose, and how many of each man's children." When they heard that, the Bráhmans began to compare notes among themselves, and found that all of them had all their children left alive. And in course of time other citizens, appointed to investigate the matter, admitted that all their children were living. And merchants and Bráhmans and all said, "Alas in our folly we have belied a holy man; the children of all of us are alive; so whose children can he have eaten?" Harasvámin, being thus completely exonerated, prepared to leave that city, for his mind was seized with disgust at the slanderous report got up against him by wicked men. For what pleasure can a wise man take in a wicked place, the inhabitants of which are wanting in discrimination? Then the Bráhmans and merchants, prostrating themselves at his feet, entreated him to stay there, and he at last, though with reluctance, consented to do so.

"In this way evil men often impute crime falsely to good men, allowing their malicious garrulity full play on beholding their virtuous behaviour. Much more, if they obtain a slight glimpse of any opportunity for attacking them, do they pour copious showers of oil on the fire thus kindled. Therefore if you wish, my daughter, to draw the arrow from my heart, you must not, while this fresh youth of yours is developing, remain unmarried to please yourself, and so incur the ready reproach of evil men." Such was the advice which the princess Kanakarekhá frequently received from her father the king, but she, being firmly resolved, again and again answered him: "Therefore quickly search for a Bráhman or Kshatriya who has seen that City of Gold and give me to him, for this is the condition I have named." When the king heard that, reflecting that his daughter, who remembered her former birth, had completely made up her mind, and seeing no other way of obtaining for her the husband she desired, he issued another order to the effect that henceforth the proclamation by beat of drum was to take place every day in the city, in order to find out whether any of the newcomers had seen the Golden City. And once more it was proclaimed in every quarter of the city every day, after the drum had been beaten,--"If any Bráhman or Kshatriya has seen the Golden City, let him speak; the king will give him his own daughter, together with the rank of Crown-prince." But no one was found who had obtained a sight of the Golden City.

Chapter XXV

In the meanwhile the young Bráhman Saktideva, in very low spirits, having been rejected with contempt by the princess he longed for, said to himself; "To-day by asserting falsely that I had seen the Golden City, I certainly incurred contempt, but I did not obtain that princess. So I must roam through the earth to find it, until I have either seen that city or lost my life. For of what use is my life, unless I can return having seen that city, and obtain the princess as the prize of the achievement?" Having thus taken a vow, that Bráhman set out from the city of Vardhamána, directing his course toward the southern quarter, and as he journeyed, he at last reached the great forest of the Vindhya range, and entered it, which was difficult and long as his own undertaking. And that forest, so to speak, fanned, with the soft leaves of its trees shaken by the wind, him, who was heated by the multitudinous rays of the sun; and through grief at being overrun with many robbers, it made its cry heard day and night in the shrill screams of animals which were being slain in it by lions and other noisome beasts. And it seemed, by the unchecked rays of heat flashed upward from its wild deserts, to endeavour to conquer the fierce brightness of the sun: in it, though there was no accumulation of water, calamity was to be easily purchased: [388] and its space seemed ever to extend before the traveller as fast as he crossed it. In the course of many days he accomplished a long journey through this forest, and beheld in it a great lake of cold pure water in a lonely spot: which seemed to lord it over all lakes, with its lotuses like lofty umbrellas, and its swans like gleaming white chowries. In the water of that lake he performed the customary ablutions, and on its northern shore he beheld a hermitage with beautiful fruit-bearing trees: and he saw an old hermit named Súryatapas sitting at the foot of an Asvattha tree, surrounded by ascetics, adorned with a rosary, the beads of which by their number seemed to be the knots that marked the centuries of his life, [389] and which rested against the extremity of his ear that was white with age. And he approached that hermit with a bow, and the hermit welcomed him with hospitable greetings. And the hermit, after entertaining him with fruits and other delicacies, asked him, "Whence have you come, and whither are you going? Tell me, good sir." And Saktideva inclining respectfully, said to that hermit,--"I have come, venerable sir, from the city of Vardhamána, and I have undertaken to go to the Golden City in accordance with a vow. But I do not know where that city lies; tell me venerable sir, if you know." The hermit answered, "My son, I have lived eight hundred years in this hermitage, and I have never even heard of that city." Saktideva when he heard this from the hermit, was cast down, and said again--"Then my wanderings through the earth will end by my dying here." Then that hermit, having gradually elicited the whole story said to him, "If you are firmly resolved, then do what I tell you. Three yojanas from here there is a country named Kámpilya, and in it is a mountain named Uttara, and on it there is a hermitage. There dwells my noble elder brother named Dírghatapas; [390] go to him, he being old may perhaps know of that city." When Saktideva heard that, hope arose in his breast, and having spent the night there he quickly set out in the morning from that place. And wearied with the laborious journey through difficult forest country, he at last reached that region of Kámpilya and ascended that mountain Uttara; and there he beheld that hermit Dírghatapas in a hermitage, and he was delighted and approached him with a bow: and the hermit received him hospitably: and Saktideva said to him, "I am on my way to the City of Gold spoken of by the king's daughter: but I do not know, venerable sir, where that city is. However I am bound to find it, so I have been sent to you by the sage Súryatapas in order that I may discover where it lies." When he had said this, the hermit answered him, "Though I am so old, my son, I have never heard of that city till to-day; I have made acquaintance with various travellers from foreign lands, and I have never heard any one speak of it; much less have I seen it. But I am sure it must be in some distant foreign island, and I can tell you an expedient to help you in this matter; there is in the midst of the ocean an island named Utsthala, and in it there is a rich king of the Nishádas [391] named Satyavrata. He goes to and fro among all the other islands, and he may have seen or heard of that city. Therefore first go to the city named Vitankapura situated on the border of the sea. And from that place go with some merchant in a ship to the island where that Nisháda dwells, in order that you may attain your object." When Saktideva heard this from the hermit, he immediately followed his advice, and taking leave of him set out from the hermitage. And after accomplishing many kos and crossing many lands, he reached the city of Vitankapura, the ornament of the sea-shore. There he sought out a merchant named Samudradatta, who traded with the island of Utsthala, and struck up a friendship with him. And he went on board his ship with him, and having food for the voyage fully supplied by his kindness, he set out on the ocean-path. Then, when they had but a short distance to travel, there arose a black cloud with rumbling thunder, resembling a roaring Rákshasa, with flickering lightning to represent his lolling tongue. And a furious hurricane began to blow like Destiny herself, whirling up light objects and hurling down heavy. [392] And from the sea, lashed by the wind, great waves rose aloft like the mountains equipped with wings, [393] indignant that their asylum had been attacked. And that vessel rose on high one moment, and the next moment plunged below, as if exhibiting how rich men are first elevated and then cast down. And the next moment that ship, shrilly laden with the cries of the merchants, burst and split asunder as if with the weight. And the ship being broken, that merchant its owner fell into the sea, but floating through it on a plank he at last reached another vessel. But as Saktideva fell, a large fish, opening its mouth and neck, swallowed him without injuring any of his limbs. And as that fish was roaming at will in the midst of the sea, it happened to pass near the island of Utsthala; and by chance some servants of that king of the fishermen Satyavrata, who were engaged in the pursuit of small fish, came there and caught it. And those fishermen, proud of their prize, immediately dragged it along to shew to their king, for it was of enormous size. He too, out of curiosity, seeing that it was of such extraordinary size, ordered his servants to cut it open; and when it was cut open, Saktideva came out alive from its belly, having endured a second wonderful imprisonment in the womb. [394] Then the fisher-king Satyavrata, when he saw that young man come out and bestow his blessing on him, was astonished, and asked him, "Who are you, and how did this lot of dwelling in the belly of the fish befall you? What means this exceedingly strange fate that you have suffered." When Saktideva heard this, he answered that king of the fishermen: "I am a Bráhman of the name of Saktideva from the city of Vardhamána; and I am bound to visit the City of Gold, and because I do not know where it is, I have for a long time wandered far over the earth; then I gathered from a speech of Dírghatapas' that it was probably in an island, so I set out to find Satyavrata the king of the fishermen, who lives in the island of Utsthala, in order to learn its whereabouts, but on the way I suffered shipwreck, and so having been whelmed in the sea and swallowed by a fish, I have been brought here now." When Saktideva had said this, Satyavrata said to him: "I am in truth Satyavrata, and this is the very island you were seeking; but though I have seen many islands, I have never seen the city you desire to find, but I have heard of it as situated in one of the distant islands." Having said this, and perceiving that Saktideva was cast down, Satyavrata out of kindness for his guest went on to say: "Bráhman, do not be despondent; remain here this night, and to-morrow morning I will devise some expedient to enable you to attain your object." The Bráhman was thus consoled by the king, and sent off to a monastery of Bráhmans, where guests were readily entertained. There Saktideva was supplied with food by a Bráhman named Vishnudatta, an inmate of the monastery, and entered into conversation with him. And in the course of that conversation, being questioned by him, he told him in a few words his country, his family, and his whole history. When Vishnudatta heard that, he immediately embraced him, and said in a voice indistinct from the syllables being choked with tears of joy: "Bravo! you are the son of my maternal uncle and a fellow-countryman of mine. But I long ago in my childhood left that country to come here. So stop here awhile, and soon the stream of merchants and pilots that come here from other islands will accomplish your wish." Having told him his descent in these words, Vishnudatta waited upon Saktideva with all becoming attentions. And Saktideva, forgetting the toil of the journey, obtained delight, for the meeting a relation in a foreign land is like a fountain of nectar in the desert. And he considered that the accomplishment of his object was near at hand, for good luck, befalling one by the way indicates success in an undertaking. So he reclined at night sleepless upon his bed, with his mind fixed upon the attainment of his desire, and Vishnudatta, who was by his side, in order to encourage and delight him at the same time, related to him the following tale:

Story of Asokadatta and Vijayadatta. [395]

Formerly there was a great Bráhman named Govindasvámin, living on a great royal grant of land on the banks of the Yamuná. And in course of time there were born to that virtuous Bráhman two sons like himself, Asokadatta and Vijayadatta. While they were living there, there arose a terrible famine in that land, and so Govindasvámin said to his wife; "This land is ruined by famine, and I cannot bear to behold the misery of my friends and relations. For who gives anything to anybody? So let us at any rate give away to our friends and relations what little food we possess and leave this country. And let us go with our family to Benares to live there." When he said this to his wife, she consented, and he gave away his food, and set out from that place with his wife, sons, and servants. For men of noble soul cannot bear to witness the miseries of their relatives. And on the road he beheld a skull-bearing Saiva ascetic, white with ashes, and with matted hair, like the god Siva himself with his half-moon. The Bráhman approached that wise man with a bow, and out of love for his sons, asked him about their destiny, whether it should be good or bad, and that Yogí answered him: "The future destiny of your sons is auspicious, but you shall be separated, Bráhman, from this younger one Vijayadatta, and finally by the might of the second Asokadatta you shall be reunited to him." Govindasvámin, when that wise man said this to him, took leave of him and departed overpowered with joy, grief, and wonder; and after reaching Benares he spent the day there in a temple of Durgá outside the town, engaged in worshipping the goddess and such like occupations. And in the evening he encamped outside that temple under a tree, with his family, in the company of pilgrims who had come from other countries. And at night, while all were asleep, wearied with their long journey, stretched out on strewn leaves, and, such other beds as travellers have to put up with, his younger son Vijayadatta, who was awake, was suddenly seized with a cold ague-fit; that ague quickly made him tremble, and caused his hair to stand on end, as if it had been the fear of his approaching separation from his relations. And oppressed with the cold he woke up his father, and said to him: "A terrible ague afflicts me here now, father, so bring fuel and light me a fire to keep off the cold, in no other way can I obtain relief or get through the night." When Govindasvámin heard him say this, he was distressed at his suffering, and said to him; "Whence can I procure fire now my son?" Then his son said; "Why surely we may see a fire burning near us on this side, and it is very large, so why should I not go there and warm my body? So take me by the hand, for I have a shivering fit, and lead me there." Thus entreated by his son the Bráhman went on to say: "This is a cemetery, [396] and the fire is that of a funeral pyre, so how can you go to a place terrible from the presence of goblins and other spirits, for you are only a child?" When the brave Vijayadatta heard that speech of his affectionate father's, he laughed and said in his confidence, "What can the wretched goblins and other evil ones do to me? Am I a weakling? So take me there without fear." When he said this so persistently, his father led him there, and the boy warming his body approached the pyre, which seemed to bear on itself the presiding deity of the Rákshasas in visible form, with the smoke of the flames for dishevelled hair, devouring the flesh of men. The boy at once encouraged his father [397] and asked him what the round thing was that he saw inside the pyre. And his father standing at his side, answered him, "This, my son, is the skull of a man which is burning in the pyre." Then the boy in his recklessness struck the skull with a piece of wood lighted at the top, and clove it. The brains spouted up from it and entered his mouth, like the initiation into the practices of the Rákshasas, bestowed upon him by the funeral flame. And by tasting them that boy became a Rákshasa, with hair standing on end, with sword that he had drawn from the flame, terrible with projecting tusks: so he seized the skull and drinking the brains from it, he licked it with tongue restlessly quivering like the flames of fire that clung to the bone. Then be flung aside the skull, and lifting his sword he attempted to slay his own father Govindasvámin. But at that moment a voice came out from the cemetery, "Kapálasphota, [398] thou god, thou oughtest not to slay thy father, come here." When the boy heard that, having obtained the title of Kapálasphota and become a Rákshasa, he let his father alone, and disappeared; and his father departed exclaiming aloud, "Alas my son! Alas my virtuous son! Alas Vijayadatta!" And he returned to the temple of Durgá; and in the morning he told his wife and his eldest son Asokadatta what had taken place. Then that unfortunate man together with them suffered an attack of the fire of grief, terrible like the falling of lightning from a cloud, so that the other people, who were sojourning in Benares, and had come to visit the shrine of the goddess, came up to him and sympathised heartily with his sorrow. In the meanwhile a great merchant, who had come to worship the goddess, named Samudradatta, beheld Govindasvámin in that state. The good man approached him and comforted him, and immediately took him and his family home to his own house. And there he provided him with a bath and other luxuries, for this is the innate tendency of the great, to have mercy upon the wretched. Govindasvámin also and his wife recovered their self-command, having heard [399] the speech of the great Saiva ascetic, hoping to be re-united to their son. And thenceforth he lived in that city of Benares, in the house of that rich merchant, having been asked by him to do so. And there his other son Asokadatta grew up to be a young man, and after studying the sciences learnt boxing and wrestling. And gradually he attained such eminence in these arts, that he was not surpassed by any champion on the earth. And once on a time there was a great gathering of wrestlers at an idol procession, and a great and famous wrestler came from the Deccan. He conquered all the other wrestlers of the king of Benares, who was called Pratápamukuta, before his eyes. Then the king had Asokadatta quickly summoned from the house of that excellent merchant, and ordered him to contend with that wrestler. That wrestler began the combat by catching the arm of Asokadatta with his hand, but Asokadatta seized his arm, and hurled him to the ground. Then the field of combat, as it were, pleased, applauded the victor with the resounding noise produced by the fall of that champion wrestler. And the king being gratified, loaded Asokadatta with jewels, and having seen his might, he made him his own personal attendant. So he became a favourite of the king's, and in time attained great prosperity, for to one who possesses heroic qualities, a king who appreciates merit is a perfect treasure-house. Once on a time, that king went on the fourteenth day of the month away from his capital, to worship the god Siva in a splendid temple in a distant town. After he had paid his devotions, he was returning by night near the cemetery when he heard this utterance issue from it: "O king, the chief magistrate out of private malice proclaimed that I deserved death, and it is now the third day since I was impaled, and even now my life will not leave my body, though I am innocent, so I am exceedingly thirsty; O king, order water to be given me." When the king heard it, out of pity he said to his personal attendant Asokadatta, "Send that man some water." Then Asokadatta said, "Who would go there at night? So I had better go myself." Accordingly he took the water, and set off. After the king had proceeded on his way to his capital, the hero entered that cemetery, the interior of which was difficult to penetrate, as it was filled with dense darkness within; in it there were awful evening oblations offered with the human flesh scattered about by the jackals; in places the cemetery was lighted up by the flaming beacons of the blazing funeral pyres, and in it the Vetálas made terrible music with the clapping of their hands, so that it seemed as if it were the palace of black night. Then he cried aloud, "Who asked the king for water?" And he heard from one quarter an answer, "I asked for it." Following the voice he went to a funeral pyre near, and beheld a man impaled on the top of a stake, and underneath it he saw a woman that he had never seen before, weeping, adorned with beautiful ornaments, lovely in every limb; like the night adorned with the rays of the moon, now that the moon itself had set, its splendour having waned in the dark fortnight, come to worship the funeral pyre. He asked the woman: "Who are you, mother, and why are you standing weeping here?" She answered him, "I am the ill-fated wife of him who is here impaled, and I am waiting here with the firm intention of ascending the funeral pyre with him. And I am waiting some time for his life to leave his body, for though it is the third day of his impalement, his breath does not depart. And he often asks for that water which I have brought here, but I cannot reach his mouth, my friend, as the stake is high." When he heard that speech of hers, the mighty hero said to her: "But here is water in my hand sent to him by the king, so place your foot on my back and lift it to his mouth, for the mere touching of another man in sore need does not disgrace a woman." When she heard that, she consented, and taking the water she climbed up so as to plant her two feet on the back of Asokadatta, who bent down at the foot of the stake. Soon after, as drops of blood unexpectedly began to fall upon the earth and on his back, the hero lifted up his face and looked. Then he saw that woman cutting off slice after slice of that impaled man's flesh with a knife, and eating it. [400]

Then, perceiving that she was some horrible demon, [401] he dragged her down in a rage, and took hold of her by her foot with its tinkling anklets in order to dash her to pieces on the earth. She, for her part, dragged away from him that foot, and by her deluding power quickly flew up into the heaven, and became invisible. And the jewelled anklet, which had fallen from her foot, while she was dragging it away, remained in one of Asokadatta's hands. Then he, reflecting that she had disappeared after shewing herself mild at first, and evil-working in the middle, and at the end horror-striking by assuming a terrible form, like association with wicked men,--and seeing that heavenly anklet in his hand, was astonished, grieved and delighted at the same time; and then he left that cemetery, taking the anklet with him, and went to his own house, and in the morning, after bathing, to the palace of the king.

And when the king said--"Did you give the water to the man who was impaled," he said he had done so, and gave him that anklet; and when the king of his own accord asked him where it came from, he told that king his wonderful and terrible night-adventure. And then the king, perceiving that his courage was superior to that of all men, though he was before pleased with his other excellent qualities, was now more exceedingly delighted; and he took that anklet in his joy and gave it with his own hand to the queen, and described to her the way in which he had obtained it. And she, hearing the story and beholding that heavenly jewelled anklet, rejoiced in her heart and was continually engaged in extolling Asokadatta. Then the king said to her: "Queen, in birth, in learning, in truthfulness and beauty Asokadatta is great among the great; and I think it would be a good thing if he were to become the husband of our lovely daughter Madanalekhá; in a bridegroom these qualities are to be looked for, not fortune that vanishes in a moment, so I will give my daughter to this excellent hero." When she heard that speech of her husband's, that queen approving the proposal said, "It is quite fitting, for the youth will be an appropriate match for her, and her heart has been captivated by him, for she saw him in a spring-garden, and for some days her mind has been in a state of vacancy and she neither hears nor sees; I heard of it from her confidante, and, after spending an anxious night, towards morning I fell asleep, and I remember I was thus addressed by some heavenly woman in a dream, 'My child, thou must not give this thy daughter Madanalekhá to any one but Asokadatta, for she is his wife acquired by him in a former birth.' And when I heard it, I woke up, and in the morning I went myself on the strength of the dream and consoled my daughter. And now, my husband has of his own accord proposed the marriage to me. Let her therefore be united to him, as a spring-creeper to its stalk." When the king's beloved wife said this to him, he was pleased, and he made festal rejoicings, and summoning Asokadatta gave that daughter to him. And the union of those two, the daughter of the king, and the son of the great Bráhman, was such that each enhanced the other's glory, like the union of prosperity and modesty. And once upon a time the queen said to the king, with reference to the anklet brought by Asokadatta: "My husband, this anklet by itself does not look well, so let another be made like it." When the king heard that, he gave an order to the goldsmiths and other craftsmen of the kind, to make a second anklet like that. But they, after examining it said;--"It is impossible, O king, to make another like it, for the work is heavenly, not human. There are not many jewels of this kind upon the earth, so let another be sought for where this was obtained." When the king and the queen heard this, they were despondent, and Asokadatta who was there, on seeing that, immediately said, "I myself will bring you a fellow to that anklet." And having made this promise he could not give up the project on which he was resolved, although the king, terrified at his temerity, endeavoured to dissuade him out of affection. And taking the anklet he went again on the fourteenth night of the black fortnight to the cemetery where he had first obtained it; and after he had entered that cemetery which was full of Rákshasas as it was of trees, besmirched with the copious smoke of the funeral pyres, and with men hanging from their trunks [402] which were weighed down and surrounded with nooses, he did not at first see that woman that he had seen before, but he thought of an admirable device for obtaining that bracelet, which was nothing else than the selling of human flesh. [403] So he pulled down a corpse from the noose by which it was suspended on the tree, and he wandered about in the cemetery, crying aloud--"Human flesh for sale, buy, buy!" And immediately a woman called to him from a distance, saying, "Courageous man, bring the human flesh and come along with me." When he heard that, he advanced following that woman, and beheld at no great distance under a tree a lady of heavenly appearance, surrounded with women, sitting on a throne, glittering with jewelled ornaments, whom he would never have expected to find in such a place, any more than to find a lotus in a desert. And having been led up by that woman, he approached the lady seated as has been described, and said, "Here I am, I sell human flesh, buy, buy!" And then the lady of heavenly appearance said to him, "Courageous hero, for what price will you sell the flesh?" Then the hero, with the corpse hanging over his shoulder and back, said to her, shewing her at the same time that single jewelled anklet which was in his hand, "I will give this flesh to whoever will give me a second anklet like this one; if you have got a second like it, take the flesh." When she heard that, she said to him, "I have a second like it, for this very single anklet was taken by you from me. I am that very woman who was seen by you near the impaled man, but you do not recognise me now, because I have assumed another shape. So what is the use of flesh? If you do what I tell you, I will give you my second anklet, which matches the one in your hand." When she said this to the hero, he consented and said, "I will immediately do whatever you say." Then she told him her whole desire from the beginning: "There is, good sir, a city named Trighanta on a peak of the Himálayas. In it there lived a heroic prince of the Rákshasas named Lambajihva. I am his wife, Vidyuchchhikhá by name, and I can change my form at will. And as fate would have it, that husband of mine, after the birth of my daughter, was slain in battle fighting in front of the king Kapálasphota; then that king being pleased gave me his own city, and I have lived with my daughter in great comfort on its proceeds up to the present time. And that daughter of mine has by this time grown up to fresh womanhood, and I have great anxiety in my mind as to how to obtain for her a brave husband. Then being here on the fourteenth night of the lunar fortnight, and seeing you coming along this way with the king, I thought--'This good-looking youth is a hero and a fit match for my daughter. So why should I not devise some stratagem for obtaining him?' Thus I determined, and imitating the voice of an impaled person, I asked for water, and brought you into the middle of that cemetery by a trick. And there I exhibited my delusive power in assuming a false shape and other characteristics, and saying what was false I imposed upon you there, though only for a moment. And I artfully left one of my anklets there to attract you again, like a binding chain to draw you, and then I came away. And to-day I have obtained you by that very expedient, so come to my house; marry my daughter and receive the other anklet." When the Rákshasí said this to him, the hero consented, and by means of her magic power he went with her through the air to her city. And he saw that city built of gold on a peak of the Himálayas, like the orb of the sun fixed in one spot, being weary with the toil of wandering through the heavens. There he married that daughter of the prince of the Rákshasas, by name Vidyutprabhá, like the success of his own daring incarnate in bodily form. And Asokadatta dwelt with that loved one some time in that city, enjoying great comfort by means of his mother-in-law's wealth. Then he said to his mother-in-law, "Give me that anklet, for I must now go to the city of Benares, for I myself long ago promised the king that I would bring a second anklet, that would vie with the first one so distinguished for its unparalleled beauty." The mother-in-law, having been thus entreated by her son-in-law, gave him that second anklet of hers, and in addition a golden lotus. [404]

Then he left that city with the anklet and the lotus, after promising to return, and his mother-in-law by the power of her magic knowledge carried him once more through the air to the cemetery. And then she stopped under the tree and said to him, "I always come here on the fourteenth night of the black fortnight, and whenever you come here on that [405] night, you will find me here under the banyan-tree." When Asokadatta heard this, he agreed to come there on that night, and took leave of that Rákshasí, and went first to his father's house. And just as he was gladdening by his unexpected arrival his parents, who were grieved by such an absence of his, which doubled their grief for their separation from their younger son, the king his father-in-law, who had heard of his arrival, came in. The king indulged in a long outburst of joy, embracing him who bent before him, with limbs the hairs of which stood on end like thorns, as if terrified at touching one so daring. [406] Then Asokadatta entered with him the palace of the king, like joy incarnate in bodily form, and he gave to the king those two anklets matched together, which so to speak praised his valour with their tinkling, and he bestowed on that king the beautiful golden lotus, as it were the lotus, with which the presiding Fortune of the Rákshasas' treasure plays, torn, from her hand; then being questioned out of curiosity by the king and queen he told the story of his exploits, which poured nectar into their ears. The king then exclaimed--"Is glittering glory, which astonishes the mind by the description of wonderful exploits, ever obtained without a man's bringing himself to display boldness?" Thus the king spake on that occasion, and he and the queen, who had obtained the pair of anklets, considered their object in life attained, now that they had such a son-in-law. And then that palace, resounding with festal instruments, appeared as if it were chanting the virtues of Asokadatta. And on the next day the king dedicated the golden lotus in a temple made by himself, placing it upon a beautiful silver vessel; and the two together, the vessel and the lotus, gleamed white and red like the glory of the king and the might [407] of Asokadatta. And beholding them thus, the king, a devout worshipper of Siva, with eyes expanded with joy, spoke inspired with the rapture of adoration, "Ah! this lofty vessel appears, with this lotus upon it, like Siva white with ashes, with his auburn matted locks. If I had a second golden lotus like it, I would place it in this second silver vessel." When Asokadatta heard this speech of the king's, he said, "I, king, will bring you a second golden lotus;" when the king heard that, he answered him, "I have no need of another lotus, a truce to your temerity!" Then as days went on, Asokadatta being desirous of bringing a golden lotus, the fourteenth day of the black fortnight returned; and that evening the sun, the golden lotus of the sky-lake, went to the mountain of setting, as if out of fear, knowing his desire for a golden lotus; and when the shades of night, brown as smoke, began immediately to spread everywhere like Rákshasas, proud of having swallowed the red clouds of evening as if they were raw flesh, and the mouth of night, like that of an awful female goblin, began to yawn, shining and terrible as tamála, full of flickering flames, [408] Asokadatta of his own accord left the palace where the princess was asleep, and again went to that cemetery. There he beheld at the foot of that banyan-tree his mother-in-law the Rákshasí, who had again come, and who received him with a courteous welcome, and with her the youth went again to her home, the peak of the Himálayas, where his wife was anxiously awaiting him. And after he had remained some time with his wife, he said to his mother-in-law, "Give me a second golden lotus from somewhere or other." When she heard that, she said to him, "Whence can I procure another golden lotus? But there is a lake here belonging to our king Kapálasphota, where golden lotuses of this kind grow on all sides. From that lake he gave that one lotus to my husband as a token of affection." When she said this, he answered her, "Then take me to that lake, in order that I may myself take a golden lotus from it." She then attempted to dissuade him saying, "It is impossible; for the lake is guarded by terrible Rákshasas;" but nevertheless he would not desist from his importunity. Then at last his mother-in-law was with much difficulty induced to take him there, and he beheld from afar that heavenly lake on the plateau of a lofty mountain, covered with dense and tall-stalked lotuses of gleaming gold, as if from continually facing the sun's rays they had drunk them in, and so become interpenetrated with them.

So he went there and began to gather the lotuses, and while he was thus engaged, the terrible Rákshasas, who guarded it, endeavoured to prevent him from doing so. And being armed he killed some of them, but the others fled and told their king Kapálasphota, [409] and when that king of the Rákshasas heard of it, he was enraged and came there himself, and saw Asokadatta with the lotuses he had carried off. And in his astonishment he exclaimed as he recognised his brother: "What! is this my brother Asokadatta come here?" Then he flung away his weapon, and with his eyes washed with tears of joy, he quickly ran and fell at his feet, and said to him: "I am Vijayadatta, your younger brother, we are both the sons of that excellent Bráhman Govindasvámin. And by the appointment of destiny, I became a Rákshasa such as you see, and have continued such for this long time, and I am called Kapálasphota from my cleaving the skull on the funeral pyre.

"But now from seeing you I have remembered my former Bráhman nature, and that Rákshasa nature of mine, that clouded my mind with delusion, has left me." When Vijayadatta said this, Asokadatta embraced him, and so to speak, washed with copious tears of joy his body defiled by the Rákshasa nature. And while he was thus engaged, there descended from heaven by divine command the spiritual guide of the Vidyádharas, named Kausika. And he approaching these two brothers, said, "You and your family are all Vidyádharas, who have been reduced to this state by a curse, and now the curse of all of you has terminated. So receive these sciences, which belong to you, and which you must share with your relations. And return to your own proper dwelling taking with you your relations." Having said this, the spiritual guide, after bestowing the sciences on them, ascended to heaven.

And they, having become Vidyádharas, awoke from their long dream, and went through the air to that peak of the Himálayas, taking with them the golden lotuses, and there Asokadatta repaired to his wife the daughter of the king of the Rákshasas, and then her curse came to an end, and she became a Vidyádharí. And those two brothers went in a moment with that fair-eyed one to Benares, travelling through the air. And there they visited their parents, who were scorched with the fire of separation, and refreshed them by pouring upon them the revivifying nectar of their own appearance. And those two, who, without changing the body, had gone through such wonderful transformations, produced joy not only in their parents, but in the people at large. And when Vijayadatta's father, after so long a separation, folded him in a close embrace, he filled full not only his arms, but also his desire. Then the king Pratápamukuta, the father-in-law of Asokadatta, hearing of it, came there in high delight; and Asokadatta, being kindly received by the king, entered with his relations the king's palace, in which his beloved was anxiously awaiting him, and which was in a state of festal rejoicing. And he gave many golden lotuses to that king, and the king was delighted at getting more than he had asked for. Then Vijayadatta's father Govindasvámin, full of wonder and curiosity, said to him in the presence of all: "Tell me, my son, what sort of adventures you had, after you had become a Rákshasa in the cemetery during the night." Then Vijayadatta said to him--"My father, when in my reckless frivolity I had cloven the burning skull on the funeral pyre, as fate would have it, I immediately, as you saw, became a Rákshasa by its brains having entered my mouth, being bewildered with delusion. Then I was summoned by the other Rákshasas, who gave me the name of Kapálasphota, and I joined them. And then I was led by them to their sovereign the king of the Rákshasas, and he, when he saw me, was pleased with me and appointed me commander-in-chief. And once on a time that king of the Rákshasas went in his infatuation to attack the Gandharvas, and was there slain in battle by his foes. And then his subjects accepted my rule, so I dwelt in his city and ruled those Rákshasas, and while I was there, I suddenly beheld that elder brother of mine Asokadatta, who had come for golden lotuses, and the sight of him put a stop to that Rákshasa nature in me. What follows, how we were released from the power of the curse, and thereby recovered our sciences, [410] all this my elder brother will relate to you." When Vijayadatta had told this story, Asokadatta began to tell his from the beginning: "Long ago we were Vidyádharas, and from the heaven we beheld the daughters of the hermits bathing in the Ganges near the hermitage of Gálava, [411] and then we fell suddenly in love with them, and they returned our affection; all this took place in secret, but their relations, who possessed heavenly insight, found it out and cursed us in their anger: 'May you two wicked ones be born both of you to a mortal woman, and then you shall be separated in a marvellous manner, but when the second of you shall behold the first arrived in a distant land, inaccessible to man, and shall recognise him, then you shall have your magic knowledge restored to you by the spiritual preceptor of the Vidyádharas, and you shall again become Vidyádharas, released from the curse and re-united to your friends.' Having been cursed in this way by those hermits, we were both born here in this land, and you know the whole story of our separation, and now by going to the city of the king of the Rákshasas, by virtue of my mother-in-law's magic power, to fetch the golden lotuses, I have found this younger brother of mine. And in that very place we obtained the sciences from our preceptor Prajnaptikausika, and suddenly becoming Vidyádharas we have quickly arrived here." Thus Asokadatta spoke, and then that hero of various adventures, delighted at having escaped the darkness of the curse, bestowed on his parents and his beloved, the daughter of the king, his own wonderful sciences of many kinds, so that their minds were suddenly awakened, and they became Vidyádharas. Then the happy hero took leave of the king, and with his brother, his parents, and his two wives, flew up, and quickly reached through the air the palace of his emperor. There he beheld him, and received his orders, and so did his brother, and he bore henceforth the name of Asokavega, and his brother of Vijayavega. And both the brothers, having become noble Vidyádhara youths, went, accompanied by their relations, to the splendid mountain named Govindakúta, which now became their home. And Pratápamukuta the king of Benares, overpowered by wonder, placed one of the golden lotuses in the second vessel in his temple, and offered to Siva the other golden lotuses presented by Asokadatta, and delighted with the honour of his connexion, considered his family highly fortunate.

"Thus divine persons become incarnate for some reason, and are born in this world of men, and possessing their native virtue and courage, attain successes which it is hard to win. So I am persuaded that you, O sea of courage, are some portion of a divinity, and will attain success as you desire; daring in achievements hard to accomplish even by the great, generally indicates a surpassingly excellent nature. Moreover the princess Kanakarekhá, whom you love, must surely be a heavenly being, otherwise being a mere child how could she desire a husband that has seen the Golden City?" Having heard in secret this long and interesting story from Vishnudatta, Saktideva desiring in his heart to behold the Golden City, and supporting himself with resolute patience, managed to get through the night.

Chapter XXVI

The next morning, while Saktideva was dwelling in the monastery in the island of Utsthala, Satyavrata, the king of the fishermen, came to him, and said to him in accordance with the promise which he had made before, "Bráhman, I have thought of a device for accomplishing your wish; there is a fair isle in the middle of the sea named Ratnakúta, and in it there is a temple of the adorable Vishnu founded by the Ocean, and on the twelfth day of the white fortnight of Áshádha there is a festival there with a procession, and people come there diligently from all the islands to offer worship. It is possible that some one there might know about the Golden City, so come let us go there, for that day is near." When Satyavrata made this proposal, Saktideva consented gladly, and took with him the provisions for the journey furnished by Vishnudatta. Then he went on board the ship brought by Satyavrata, and quickly set out with him on the ocean-path, and as he was going with Satyavrata on the home of marvels [412] in which the monsters resembled islands, he asked the king, who was steering the ship, "What is this enormous object which is seen in the sea far off in this direction, looking like a huge mountain equipped with wings rising at will out of the sea?" Then Satyavrata said: "Bráhman, this is a banyan-tree, [413] underneath it they say that there is a gigantic whirlpool, the mouth of the submarine fire. And we must take care in passing this way to avoid that spot, for those who once enter that whirlpool never return again." While Satyavrata was thus speaking, the ship began to be carried in that very direction by the force of the wind; [414] when Satyavrata saw this, he again said to Saktideva: "Bráhman, it is clear that the time of our destruction has now arrived, for see, this ship suddenly drifts [415] in that direction. And now I cannot anyhow prevent it, so we are certain to be cast into that deep whirlpool, as into the mouth of death, by the sea which draws us on as if it were mighty fate, the result of our deeds. And it grieves me not for myself, for whose body is continuing? But it grieves me to think that your desire has not been accomplished in spite of all your toils, so while I keep back this ship for a moment, quickly climb on to the boughs of this banyan-tree, perhaps some expedient may present itself for saving the life of one of such noble form, for who can calculate the caprices of fate or the waves of the sea?" While the heroic Satyavrata was saying this, the ship drew near the tree; at that moment Saktideva made a leap in his terror, and caught a broad branch of that marine banyan-tree, [416] but Satyavrata's body and ship, which he offered for another, were swept down into the whirlpool, and he entered the mouth of the submarine fire. But Saktideva, though he had escaped to the bough of that tree, which filled the regions with its branches, was full of despair and reflected--"I have not beheld that Golden City, and I am perishing in an uninhabited place, moreover I have also brought about the death of that king of the fishermen. Or rather who can resist the awful goddess of Destiny, that ever places her foot upon the heads of all men?" [417] While the Bráhman youth was thus revolving thoughts suited to the occasion on the trunk of the tree, the day came to an end. And in the evening he saw many enormous birds, of the nature of vultures, coming into that banyan-tree from all quarters, filling the sides of heaven with their cries, and the waves of the sea, that was lashed by the wind of their broad wings, appeared as if running to meet them out of affection produced by long acquaintance.

Then he, concealed by the dense leaves, overheard the conversation of those birds perched on the branches, which was carried on in human language. One described some distant island, another a mountain, another a distant region as the place where he had gone to roam during the day, but an old bird among them said, "I went to-day to the Golden City to disport myself, and to-morrow morning I shall go there again to feed at my ease, for what is the use of my taking a long and fatiguing journey?" Saktideva's sorrow was removed by that speech of the bird's, which resembled a sudden shower of nectar, and he thought to himself, "Bravo! that city does exist, and now I have an instrument for reaching it, this gigantic bird given me as a means of conveyance." Thinking thus, Saktideva slowly advanced and hid himself among the back-feathers of that bird while it was asleep, and next morning, when the other birds went off in different directions, that vulture exhibiting a strange partiality to the Bráhman like destiny, [418] carrying Saktideva unseen on his back where he had climbed up, went immediately to the Golden City to feed again. [419] Then the bird alighted in a garden, and Saktideva got down from its back unobserved and left it, but while he was roaming about there, he saw two women engaged in gathering flowers; he approached them slowly, who were astonished at his appearance, and he asked them, "What place is this, good ladies, and who are you?" And they said to him: "Friend, this is a city called the Golden City, a seat of the Vidyádharas, and in it there dwells a Vidyádharí, named Chandraprabhá, and know that we are the gardeners in her garden, and we are gathering these flowers for her." Then the Bráhman said; "Obtain for me an interview with your mistress here." When they heard this, they consented, and the two women conducted the young man to the palace in their city. When he reached it, he saw that it was glittering with pillars of precious stones, and had walls of gold, [420] as it were the very rendezvous of prosperity. And all the attendants, when they saw him arrived there, went and told Chandraprabhá the marvellous tidings of the arrival of a mortal; then she gave a command to the warder, and immediately had the Bráhman brought into the palace and conducted into her presence; when he entered, he beheld her there giving a feast to his eyes, like the Creator's ability to create marvels, represented in bodily form. And she rose from her jewelled couch, while he was still far off, and honoured him with a welcome herself, overpowered by beholding him. And when he had taken a seat, she asked him, "Auspicious sir, who are you, that have come here in such guise, and how did you reach this land inaccessible to men?" When Chandraprabhá in her curiosity asked him this question, Saktideva told her his country and his birth and his name, and he related to her how he had come in order to obtain the princess Kanakarekhá as the reward of beholding the Golden City. When Chandraprabhá heard that, she thought a little and heaved a deep sigh, and said to Saktideva in private; "Listen, I am now about to tell you something, fortunate sir. There is in this land a king of the Vidyádharas named Sasikhanda, and we four daughters were born to him in due course; I am the eldest Chandraprabhá, and the next is Chandrarekhá, and the third is Sasirekhá and the fourth Sasiprabhá. We gradually grew up to womanhood in our father's house, and once upon a time those three sisters of mine went together to the shore of the Ganges to bathe, while I was detained at home by illness; then they began to play in the water, and in the insolence of youth they sprinkled with water a hermit named Agryatapas, while he was in the stream. That hermit in his wrath cursed those girls, who had carried their merriment too far, saying:--"You wicked maidens, be born all of you in the world of mortals." When our father heard that, he went and pacified the great hermit, and the hermit told how the curse of each of them severally should end, and appointed to each of them in her mortal condition the power of remembering her former existence, supplemented with divine insight. Then, they having left their bodies and gone to the world of men, my father bestowed on me this city, and in his grief went to the forest, but while I was dwelling here, the goddess Durgá informed me in a dream that a mortal should become my husband. For this reason, though my father has recommended to me many Vidyádhara suitors, I have rejected them all and remained unmarried up to this day. But now I am subdued by your wonderful arrival and by your handsome form, and I give myself to you; so I will go on the approaching fourteenth day of the lunar fortnight to the great mountain called Rishabha to entreat my father for your sake, for all the most excellent Vidyádharas assemble there from all quarters on that day to worship the god Siva, and my father comes there too, and after I have obtained his permission, I will return here quickly; then marry me. Now rise up."

Having said this, Chandraprabhá supplied Saktideva with various kinds of luxuries suited to Vidyádharas, and while he remained there, he was as much refreshed, as one heated by a forest conflagration would be by bathing in a lake of nectar. And when the fourteenth day had arrived, Chandraprabhá said to him: "To-day I go to entreat my father's permission to marry you, and all my attendants will go with me. But you must not be grieved at being left alone for two days, moreover, while you remain alone in this palace, you must by no means ascend the middle terrace." When Chandraprabhá had said this to that young Bráhman, she set out on her journey leaving her heart with him, and escorted on her way by his. And Saktideva, remaining there alone, wandered from one magnificent part of the palace to another, to delight his mind; and then he felt a curiosity to know why that daughter of the Vidyádhara had forbidden him to ascend the roof of the palace, and so he ascended that middle terrace of the palace, for men are generally inclined to do that which is forbidden: and when he had ascended it, he saw three concealed pavilions, and he entered one of them, the door of which was open, and when he had entered it he saw a certain woman lying on a magnificently jewelled sofa, on which there was a mattress placed, whose body was hidden by a sheet. But when he lifted up the sheet and looked, he beheld lying dead in that guise that beautiful maiden, the daughter of king Paropakárin; and when he saw her there, he thought, "What is this great wonder? Is she sleeping a sleep from which there is no awaking, or is it a complete delusion on my part? That woman, for whose sake I have travelled to this foreign land, is lying here without breath, though she is alive in my own country, and she still retains her beauty unimpaired, so I may be certain that this is all a magic show, which the Creator for some reason or other exhibits to beguile me." Thinking thus, he proceeded to enter in succession those other two pavilions, and he beheld within them in the same way two other maidens; then he went in his astonishment out of the palace, and sitting down he remained looking at a very beautiful lake below it, and on its bank he beheld a horse with a jewelled saddle; so he descended immediately from where he was, and out of curiosity approached its side; and seeing that it had no rider on it, he tried to mount it, and that horse struck him with its heel and flung him into the lake. And after he had sunk beneath the surface of the lake, he quickly rose up to his astonishment from the middle of a garden-lake in his own city of Vardhamána; and he saw himself suddenly standing in the water of a lake in his own native city, like the kumuda plants, miserable without the light of the moon. [421] He reflected "How different is this city of Vardhamána from that city of the Vidyádharas! Alas! what is this great display of marvellous delusion? Alas! I, ill-fated wretch, am wonderfully deceived by some strange power; or rather, who on this earth knows what is the nature of destiny?" Thus reflecting Saktideva rose from the midst of the lake, and went in a state of wonder to his own father's house. There he made a false representation, giving as an excuse for his absence that he had been himself going about with a drum, and being gladly welcomed by his father he remained with his delighted relations; and on the second day he went outside his house, and heard again these words being proclaimed in the city by beat of drum,--"Let whoever, being a Bráhman or a Kshatriya, has really seen the Golden City, say so: the king will give him his daughter, and make him crown-prince." Then Saktideva hearing that, having successfully accomplished the task, again went and said to those who were proclaiming this by beat of drum,--"I have seen that city." And they took him before that king, and the king recognising him, supposed that he was again saying what was untrue, as he had done before. But he said--"If I say what is false, and if I have not really seen that city, I desire now to be punished with death; let the princess herself examine me." When he said this, the king went and had his daughter summoned by his servants. She, when she saw that Bráhman, whom she had seen before, again said to the king; "My father, he will tell us some falsehood again." Then Saktideva said to her,--"Princess, whether I speak truly or falsely, be pleased to explain this point which excites my curiosity. How is it that I saw you lying dead on a sofa in the golden city, and yet see you here alive?" When the princess Kanakarekhá had been asked this question by Saktideva, and furnished with this token of his truth, she said in the presence of her father: "It is true that this great-hearted one has seen that city, and in a short time he will be my husband, when I return to dwell there. And there he will marry my other three sisters; and he will govern as king the Vidyádharas in that city. But I must to-day enter my own body and that city, for I have been born here in your house owing to the curse of a hermit, who moreover appointed that my curse should end in the following way, 'When you shall be wearing a human form, and a man, having beheld your body in the Golden City, shall reveal the truth, then you shall be freed from your curse, and that man shall become your husband.' And though I am in a human body I remember my origin, and I possess supernatural knowledge, so I will now depart to my own Vidyádhara home, to a happy fortune." Saying this the princess left her body, and vanished, and a confused cry arose in the palace. And Saktideva, who had now lost both the maidens, thinking over the two beloved ones whom he had gained by various difficult toils, and who yet were not gained, and not only grieved but blaming himself, with his desires not accomplished, left the king's palace and in a moment went through the following train of thought: "Kanakarekhá said that I should attain my desire; so why do I despond, for success depends upon courage? I will again go to the Golden City by the same path, and destiny will without doubt again provide me with a means of getting there." Thus reflecting Saktideva set out from that city, for resolute men who have once undertaken a project do not turn back without accomplishing their object. And journeying on, he again reached after a long time that city named Vitankapura, situated on the shore of the sea. And there he saw the merchant coming to meet him, with whom he originally went to sea, and whose ship was wrecked there. He thought, "Can this be Samudradatta, and how can he have escaped after falling into the sea? But how can it be otherwise? I myself am a strange illustration of its possibility." While he approached the merchant thinking thus, the merchant recognised him, and embraced him in his delight, and he took him to his own house and after entertaining him, asked him--"When the ship foundered, how did you escape from the sea?" Saktideva then told him his whole history, how, after being swallowed by a fish, he first reached the island of Utsthala, and then he asked the good merchant in his turn: "Tell me also how you escaped from the sea." Then the merchant said, "After I fell into the sea that time, I remained floating for three days supported on a plank. Then a ship suddenly came that way, and I, crying out, was descried by those in her, and taken on board her. And when I got on board, I saw my own father who had gone to a distant island long before, and was now returning after a long absence. My father, when he saw me, recognised me, and embracing me asked my story with tears, and I told it him as follows--'My father, you had been away for a long time and had not returned, and so I set about trading myself, thinking it was my proper employment; then on my way to a distant island my ship was wrecked, and I was plunged in the sea, and you have found me and rescued me.' When I had said this to him, my father asked me reproachfully--'Why do you run such risks? For I possess wealth, my son, and I am engaged in acquiring it, see, I have brought you back this ship full of gold.' Thus spoke my father to me, and comforting me took me home in that very ship to my own dwelling in Vitankapura." When Saktideva had heard this account from the merchant, and had rested that night, he said to him on the next day--"Great merchant, I must once more go to the island of Utsthala, so tell me how I can get there now." The merchant said to him--"Some agents of mine are preparing to go there to-day, so go on board the ship, and set out with them." Thereupon the Bráhman set out with the merchant's agents to go to that island of Utsthala, and by chance the sons of the king of the fishermen saw him there, and when they were near him, they recognised him and said,--"Bráhman, you went with our father to search here and there for the Golden City, and how is it that you have come back here to-day alone?" Then Saktideva said, "Your father, when out at sea, fell into the mouth of the submarine fire, his ship having been dragged down by the current." When those sons of the fisher-king heard that, they were angry and said to their servants--"Bind this wicked man, for he has murdered our father. Otherwise how could it have happened that, when two men were in the same ship, one should have fallen into the mouth of the submarine fire, and the other escaped it. So we must to-morrow morning sacrifice our father's murderer in front of the goddess Durgá, treating him as a victim." Having said this to their servants, those sons of the fisher-king bound Saktideva, and took him off to the awful temple of Durgá, the belly of which was enlarged, as if it continually swallowed many lives, and which was like the mouth of death devouring tamála with projecting teeth. There Saktideva remained bound during the night in fear for his life, and he thus prayed to the goddess Durgá,--"Adorable one, granter of boons, thou didst deliver the world with thy form which was like the orb of the rising sun, appearing as if it had drunk its fill of the blood gushing freely from the throat of the giant Ruru; [422] therefore deliver me, thy constant votary, who have come a long distance out of desire to obtain my beloved, but am now fallen without cause into the power of my enemies." Thus he prayed to the goddess, and with difficulty went off to sleep, and in the night he saw a woman come out of the inner cell of the temple; that woman of heavenly beauty came up to him, and said with a compassionate manner, "Do not fear, Saktideva, no harm shall happen to you. The sons of that fisher-king have a sister named Vindumatí, that maiden shall see you in the morning and claim you for a husband, and you must agree to that, she will bring about your deliverance: and she is not of the fisher-caste: for she is a celestial female degraded in consequence of a curse." When he heard this, he woke up, and in the morning that fisher-maiden came to the temple, a shower of nectar to his eyes. And announcing herself, she came up to him and said in her eagerness, "I will have you released from this prison, therefore do what I desire. For I have refused all these suitors approved of by my brothers, but the moment I saw you, love arose in my soul, therefore marry me." When Vindumatí, the daughter of the fisher-king, said this to him, Saktideva remembering his dream, accepted her proposal gladly; she procured his release, and he married that fair one, whose wish was gratified by her brothers receiving the command to do so from Durgá in a dream. And he lived there with that heavenly creature that had assumed a human form, obtained solely by his merits in a former life, as if with happy success. And one day, as he was standing upon the roof of his palace, he saw a Chandála coming along with a load of cow's flesh, and he said to his beloved--"Look, slender one! how can this evildoer eat the flesh of cows, those animals that are the object of veneration to the three worlds?" Then Vindumatí, hearing that, said to her husband; "The wickedness of this act is inconceivable, what can we say in palliation of it. I have been born in this race of fishermen for a very small offence owing to the might of cows, but what can atone for this man's sin?" When she said this, Saktideva said to her;--"That is wonderful: tell me, my beloved, who you are, and how you came to be born in a family of fishermen." When he asked this with much importunity, she said to him, "I will tell you, though it is a secret, if you promise to do what I ask you." He affirmed with an oath; "Yes, I will do what you ask me."

She then told him first what she desired him to do; "In this island you will soon marry another wife, and she, my husband, will soon became pregnant, and in the eighth month of her pregnancy you must cut her open and take out the child, and you must feel no compunction about it." Thus she said, and he was astonished, exclaiming, "What can this mean?" and he was full of horror, but that daughter of the fisher-king went on to say, "This request of mine you must perform for a certain reason; now hear who I am, and how I came to be born in a family of fishermen. Long ago in a former birth I was a certain Vidyádharí, and now I have fallen into the world of men in consequence of a curse. For when I was a Vidyádharí, I bit asunder some strings with my teeth and fastened them to lyres, and it is owing to that that I have been born here in the house of a fisherman. So, if such a degradation is brought about by touching the mouth with the dry sinew of a cow, much more terrible must be the result of eating cow's flesh!" While she was saying this, one of her brothers rushed in in a state of perturbation, and said to Saktideva, "Rise up, an enormous boar has appeared from somewhere or other, and after slaying innumerable persons is coming this way in its pride, towards us." When Saktideva heard that, he descended from his palace, and mounting a horse, spear in hand, [423] he galloped to meet the boar, and struck it the moment he saw it, but when the hero attacked him the boar fled, and managed, though wounded, to enter a cavern: and Saktideva entered there in pursuit of him, and immediately beheld a great garden-shrubbery with a house. And when he was there, he beheld a maiden of very wonderful beauty, coming in a state of agitation to meet him, as if it were the goddess of the wood advancing to receive him out of love.

And he asked her,--"Auspicious lady, who are you, and why are you perturbed?"--Hearing that, the lovely one thus answered him; "There is a king of the name of Chandavikrama, lord of the southern region. I am his daughter, auspicious sir, a maiden named Vindurekhá. But a wicked Daitya, with flaming eyes, carried me off by treachery from my father's house to-day, and brought me here. And he, desiring flesh, assumed the form of a boar, and sallied out, but while he was still hungry, he was pierced with a spear to-day by some hero; and as soon as he was pierced, he came in here and died. And I rushed out and escaped without being outraged by him." Then Saktideva said to her, "Then why all this perturbation? For I slew that boar with a spear, princess." Then she said, "Tell me who you are," and he answered her "I am a Bráhman named Saktideva." Then she said to him, "You must accordingly become my husband," and the hero consenting went out of the cavern with her. And when he arrived at home, he told it to his wife Vindumatí, and with her consent he married that princess Vindurekhá. So, while Saktideva was living there with his two wives, one of his wives Vindurekhá became pregnant; and in the eighth month of her pregnancy, the first wife Vindumatí came up to him of her own accord and said to him, "Hero, remember what you promised me; this is the eighth month of the pregnancy of your second wife: so go and cut her open and bring the child here, for you cannot act contrary to your own word of honour." When she said this to Saktideva, he was bewildered by affection and compassion; but being bound by his promise he remained for a short time unable to give an answer; at last he departed in a state of agitation and went to Vindurekhá; and she seeing him come with troubled air, said to him, "Husband, why are you despondent to-day? Surely I know; you have been commissioned by Vindumatí to take out the child with which I am pregnant; and that you must certainly do, for there is a certain object in view, and there is no cruelty in it, so do not feel compunction; in proof of it, hear the following story of Devadatta."

Story of Devadatta.

Long ago there lived in the city of Kambuka a Bráhman named Haridatta; and the son of that auspicious man, who was named Devadatta, though he studied in his boyhood, was, as a young man, exclusively addicted to the vice of gaming. As he had lost his clothes and everything by gambling, he was not able to return to his father's house, so he entered once on a time an empty temple. And there he saw alone a great ascetic, named Jálapáda, who had attained many objects by magic, and he was muttering spells in a corner. So he went up to him slowly and bowed before him, and the ascetic, abandoning his habit of not speaking to any one, greeted him with a welcome; and after he had remained there a moment, the ascetic, seeing his trouble, asked him the cause, and he told him of his affliction produced by the loss of his wealth, which had been dissipated in gambling. Then the ascetic said to Devadatta; "My child, there is not wealth enough in the whole world to satisfy gamblers; but if you desire to escape from your calamity, do what I tell you, for I have made preparations to attain the rank of a Vidyádhara; so help me to accomplish this, O man of fortunate destiny, [424] you have only to obey my orders and then your calamities will be at an end." When the ascetic said this to him, Devadatta promised to obey him, and immediately took up his residence with him. And the next day the ascetic went into a corner of the cemetery and performed worship by night under a banyan-tree, and offered rice boiled in milk, and flung portions of the oblation towards the four cardinal points, after worshipping them, and said to the Bráhman who was in attendance on him; "You must worship here in this style every day, and say 'Vidyutprabhá, accept this worship.' And then I am certain that we shall both attain our ends;" having said this the ascetic went with him to his own house. Then Devadatta, consenting, went every day and duly performed worship at the foot of that tree, according to his instructions. And one day, at the end of his worship, the tree suddenly clave open, and a heavenly nymph came out of it before his eyes, and said, "My good sir, my mistress summons you to come to her." And then she introduced him into the middle of that tree. When he entered it, he beheld a heavenly palace made of jewels, and a beautiful lady within it reclining upon a sofa. And he immediately thought--"This may be the success of our enterprise incarnate in bodily form," but while he was thinking thus, that beautiful lady, receiving him graciously, rose with limbs on which the ornaments rang as if to welcome him, and seated him on her own sofa. And she said to him, "Illustrious sir, I am the maiden daughter of a king of the Yakshas, named Ratnavarsha, and I am known by the name of Vidyutprabhá; and this great ascetic Jálapáda was endeavouring to gain my favour, to him I will give the attainment of his ends, but you are the lord of my life. So, as you see my affection, marry me." When she said this, Devadatta consented, and did so. And he remained there some time, but when she became pregnant, he went to the great ascetic with the intention of returning, and in a state of terror he told him all that had happened, and the ascetic, desiring his own success, said to him, "My good sir, you have acted quite rightly, but go and cut open that Yakshí and taking out the embryo, bring it quickly here." The ascetic said this to him, and then reminded him of his previous promise, and being dismissed by him, the Bráhman returned to his beloved, and while he stood there despondent with reflecting on what he had to do, the Yakshí Vidyutprabhá of her own accord said to him;--"My husband, why are you cast down? I know, Jálapáda has ordered you to cut me open, so cut me open and take out this child, and if you refuse, I will do it myself, for there is an object in it." Though she said this to him, the Bráhman could not bring himself to do it, then she cut herself open and took out the child, and flung it down before him and said, "Take this, which will enable him who consumes it, to obtain the rank of a Vidyádhara. But I, though properly a Vidyádharí, have been born as a Yakshí owing to a curse, and this is the appointed end of my curse, strange as it is, for I remember my former existence. Now I depart to my proper home, but we two shall meet again in that place." Saying this Vidyutprabhá vanished from his eyes. And Devadatta took the child with sorrowful mind, and went to that ascetic Jálapáda, and gave it to him, as that which would ensure the success of his incantations, for good men do not even in calamity give way to selfishness. The great ascetic divided the child's flesh, and sent Devadatta to the wood to worship Durgá in her terrific form. And when the Bráhman came back after presenting an oblation, he saw that the ascetic had made away with all the flesh. And while he said--"What, have you consumed it all?" the treacherous Jálapáda, having become a Vidyádhara, ascended to heaven. When he had flown up, with sword blue as the sky, adorned with necklace and bracelet, Devadatta reflected, "Alas! how I have been deceived by this evil-minded one! Or rather on whom does not excessive compliance entail misfortune? So how can I revenge myself on him for this ill turn, and how can I reach him who has become a Vidyádhara? Well! I have no other resource in this matter except propitiating a Vetála." [425] After he had made up his mind to do this, he went at night to the cemetery. There he summoned at the foot of a tree a Vetála into the body of a man, and after worshipping him, he made an oblation of human flesh to him. And as that Vetála was not satisfied, and would not wait for him to bring more, he prepared to cut off his own flesh in order to gratify him. And immediately that Vetála said to that brave man;--"I am pleased with this courage of yours, do not act recklessly. So, my good sir, what desire have you for me to accomplish for you?" When the Vetála said this, the hero answered him; "Take me to the dwelling-place of the Vidyádharas, where is the ascetic Jálapáda, who deceives those that repose confidence in him, in order that I may punish him." The Vetála consented, and placing him on his shoulder, carried him through the air in a moment to the dwelling of the Vidyádharas; and there he saw Jálapáda in a palace, seated on a jewelled throne, elated at being a king among the Vidyádharas, endeavouring by various speeches to induce that Vidyutprabhá, [426] who had obtained the rank of a Vidyádharí, to marry him in spite of her reluctance. And the moment that the young man saw him, he attacked him with the help of the Vetála, being to the eyes of the delighted Vidyutprabhá, what the moon, the repository of nectar, is to the partridges. [427] And Jálapáda beholding him suddenly arrived in this way, dropped his sword in his fright, and fell from his throne on the floor. But Devadatta, though he had obtained his sword, did not slay him, for the great-hearted feel pity even for their enemies when they are terrified.

And when the Vetála wanted to kill him, he dissuaded him, and said, "Of what use will it be to us to kill this miserable heretic? So take him and place him in his own house on earth, it is better that this wicked skull-bearing ascetic should remain there." At the very moment that Devadatta was saying this, the goddess Durgá descended from heaven and appeared to him, and said to him who bent before her, "My son, I am satisfied with thee now, on account of this incomparable courage of thine; so I give thee on the spot the rank of king of the Vidyádharas." Having said this, she bestowed the magic sciences [428] on him, and immediately disappeared. And the Vetála immediately took Jálapáda, whose splendour fell from him, and placed him on earth; (wickedness does not long ensure success;) and Devadatta accompanied by Vidyutprabhá, having obtained that sovereignty of the Vidyádharas, flourished in his kingdom.

Having told this story to her husband Saktideva, the softly-speaking Vindurekhá again said to him with eagerness; "Such necessities do arise, so cut out this child of mine as Vindumatí told you, without remorse." When Vindurekhá said this, Saktideva was afraid of doing wrong, but a voice sounded from heaven at this juncture, "O Saktideva, take out this child without fear, and seize it by the neck with your hand, then it will turn into a sword." Having heard this divine voice, he cut her open; and quickly taking out the child, he seized it by the throat with his hand; and no sooner did he seize it, than it became a sword in his hand; like the long hair of Good Fortune seized by him with an abiding grasp. Then that Bráhman quickly became a Vidyádhara, and Vindurekhá that moment disappeared. And when he saw that, he went, as he was, to his second wife Vindumatí, and told her the whole story. She said to him, "My lord, we are three sisters, the daughter of a king of the Vidyádharas, who have been banished from Kanakapurí in consequence of a curse. The first was Kanakarekhá, the termination of whose curse you beheld in the city of Vardhamána; and she has gone to that city of hers, her proper home. For such was the strange end of her curse, according to the dispensation of fate, and I am the third sister, and now my curse is at an end. And this very day I must go to that city of mine, my beloved, for there our Vidyádhara bodies remain. And my elder sister, Chandraprabhá, is dwelling there; so you also must come there quickly by virtue of the magic power of your sword. And you shall rule in that city, after obtaining all four of us as wives, bestowed upon you by our father who has retired to the forest, and others in addition to us."

Thus Vindumatí declared the truth about herself, and Saktideva consenting, went again to the City of Gold, this time through the air, together with that Vindumatí. And when he arrived, he again saw those three darlings of his bending before him, Kanakarekhá and the others, after entering with their souls, as was fitting, those heavenly female bodies, which he saw on a former occasion extended lifeless on the couches in those three pavilions. And he saw that fourth sister there, Chandraprabhá, who had performed auspicious ceremonies, and was drinking in his form with an eye rendered eager by seeing him after so long an absence. His arrival was joyfully hailed by the servants, who were occupied in their several duties, as well as by the ladies, and when he entered the private apartments, that Chandraprabhá said to him--"Noble sir, here is that princess Kanakarekhá, who was seen by you in the city of Vardhamána, my sister called Chandrarekhá. And here is that daughter of the fisher king, Vindumatí, whom you first married in the island of Utsthala, my sister Sasirekhá. And here is my youngest sister Sasiprabhá, the princess who after that was brought there by the Dánava, and then became your wife. So now come, successful hero, with us into the presence of our father, and quickly marry us all, when bestowed upon you by him."

When Chandraprabhá had swiftly and boldly uttered this decree of Cupid, Saktideva went with those four to the recesses of the wood to meet their father, and their father, the king of the Vidyádharas, having been informed of the facts by all his daughters who bowed at his feet, and also moved by a divine voice, with delighted soul gave them all at once to Saktideva. Immediately after that, he bestowed on Saktideva his opulent realm in the City of Gold, and all his magic sciences, and he gave the successful hero his name, by which he was henceforth known among his Vidyádharas. And he said to him; "No one else shall conquer thee, but from the mighty lord of Vatsa there shall spring a universal emperor, who shall reign among you here under the title of Naraváhanadatta and be thy superior, to him alone wilt thou have to submit." With these words the mighty lord of the Vidyádharas, named Sasikhandapada, dismissed his son-in-law from the wood where he was practising asceticism, after entertaining him kindly, that he might go with his wives to his own capital. Then that Saktivega, having become a king, entered the City of Gold, that glory of the Vidyádhara world, proceeding thither with his wives. Living in that city, the palaces of which gleamed with fabric of gold, which seemed on account of its great height to be the condensed rays of the sun falling in brightness, he enjoyed exceeding happiness with those fair-eyed wives, in charming gardens, the lakes of which had steps made out of jewels.

Having thus related his wonderful history, the eloquent Saktivega went on to say to the king of Vatsa, "Know me, O lord of Vatsa, ornament of the lunar race, to be that very Saktideva come here, full of desire to behold the two feet of your son who is just born, and is destined to be our new emperor. Thus I have obtained, though originally a man, the rank of sovereign among the Vidyádharas by the favour of Siva: and now, O king, I return to my own home; I have seen our future lord; may you enjoy unfailing felicity."

After finishing his tale, Saktivega said this with clasped hands, and receiving permission to depart, immediately flew up into the sky like the moon in brightness, and then the king of Vatsa in the company of his wives, surrounded by his ministers, and with his young son, enjoyed, in his own capital a state of indescribable felicity.