KADAMBARI.

(1) Hail to the Birthless, the cause of creation, continuance, and

destruction, triple [36] in form and quality, who shows activity in

the birth of things, goodness in their continuance, and darkness in

their destruction.

(2) Glory to the dust of Tryambaka's feet, caressed by the diadem

of the demon Bana [37]; even that dust that kisses the circle of

Ravana's ten crest-gems, that rests on the crests of the lords of

gods and demons, and that destroys our transitory life.

(3) Glory to Vishnu, who, resolving to strike from afar, with but

a moment's glance from his wrath-inflamed eye stained the breast of

his enemy, as if it had burst of itself in terror.

I salute the lotus feet of Bhatsu, [38] honoured by crowned Maukharis:

the feet which have their tawny toes rubbed on a footstool made by

the united crowns of neighbouring kings.

Who is there that fears not the wicked, pitiless in causeless enmity;

in whose mouth calumny hard to bear is always ready as the poison of

a serpent?

The wicked, like fetters, echo harshly, wound deeply, and leave a

scar; while the good, like jewelled anklets, ever charm the mind with

sweet sounds.

(4) In a bad man gentle words sink no deeper than the throat, like

nectar swallowed by Rahu. The good man bears them constantly on his

heart, as Hari his pure gem.

A story tender with the charm of gracious speech, creates in the heart

joy full of fresh interest [39]; and it comes of itself, with native

feeling, to its lord's possession, like a fresh bride. [40]

Who is not carried captive by tales fashioned in freshness of

speech, all alight with similes, and the lamps of glowing words

[41]: pleasant tales interwoven with many a contrast of words, [42]

as jasmine garlands with campak buds?

There was once a Brahman, Kuvera by name, sprung from the race of

Vatsyayana, sung throughout the world for his virtue, a leader of the

good: his lotus feet were worshipped by many a Gupta, and he seemed

a very portion of Brahma.

(5) On his mouth Sarasvati ever dwelt: for in it all evil was stilled

by the Veda; it had lips purified by sacrificial cake, and a palate

bitter with soma, and it was pleasant with smriti and çastra.

In his house frightened boys, as they repeated verses of the Yajur

and Sama Veda, were chidden at every word by caged parrots and mainas,

who were thoroughly versed in everything belonging to words.

From him was born Arthapati, a lord of the twice-born, as Hiranyagarbha

from the world-egg, the moon from the Milky Ocean, or Garuda from

Vinata.

As he unfolded his spreading discourse day by day at dawn, new troops

of pupils, intent on listening, [43] gave him a new glory, like fresh

sandal-shoots fixed on the ear.

(6) With countless sacrifices adorned with gifts duly offered, [44]

having glowing Mahavira fires in their midst, [45] and raising the

sacrificial posts as their hands, [46] he won easily, as if with a

troop of elephants, the abode of the gods.

He in due course obtained a son, Citrabhanu, who amongst his other

noble and glorious sons, all versed in çruti and çastra, shone as

crystal, like Kailasa among mountains.

The virtues of that noble man, reaching far and gleaming bright as a

digit of the moon, yet without its spot, pierced deep even into the

hearts of his foes, like the budding claws of Nrisimha (Vishnu).

The dark smoke of many a sacrifice rose like curls on the brow of the

goddesses of the sky; or like shoots of tamala on the ear of the bride,

the Threefold Veda, and only made his own glory shine more bright.

From him was born a son, Bana, when the drops that rose from

the fatigue of the soma sacrifice were wiped from his brow by the

folded lotus hands of Sarasvati, and when the seven worlds had been

illuminated by the rays of his glory.

(7) By that Brahman, albeit with a mind keeping even in his unspoken

words its original dullness blinded by the darkness of its own utter

folly, and simple from having never gained the charm of ready wit, this

tale, surpassing the other two, [47] was fashioned, even Kadambari.

There was once upon a time a king named Çudraka. Like a second

Indra, he had his commands honoured by the bent heads of all kings;

he was lord of the earth girt in by the four oceans; he had an army

of neighbouring chiefs bowed down in loyalty to his majesty; he had

the signs of a universal emperor; (8) like Vishnu, his lotus-hand bore

the sign of the conch and the quoit; like Çiva, he had overcome Love;

like Kartikeya, he was unconquerable in might [48]; like Brahma, he

had the circle of great kings humbled [49]; like the ocean, he was

the source of Lakshmi; like the stream of Ganges, he followed in the

course of the pious king Bhagiratha; like the sun, he rose daily in

fresh splendour; like Meru, the brightness of his foot was honoured by

all the world; like the elephant of the quarters, [50] he constantly

poured forth a stream of generosity. He was a worker of wonders, an

offerer of sacrifices, a mirror of moral law, a source of the arts, a

native home of virtue; a spring of the ambrosial sweetness of poetry,

a mountain of sunrise to all his friends, [51] and a direful comet to

all his foes. (9) He was, moreover, a founder of literary societies,

a refuge for men of taste, a rejecter of haughty bowholders, a leader

among the bold, a chief among the wise. He was a cause of gladness to

the humble, as Vainateya [52] was to Vinata. He rooted up with the

point of his bow the boundary-mountains of his foes as Prithuraja

did the noble mountains. He mocked Krishna, also, for while the

latter made his boast of his man-lion form, he himself smote down

the hearts of his foes by his very name, and while Krishna wearied

the universe with his three steps, he subdued the whole world by one

heroic effort. Glory long dwelt on the watered edge of his sword, as

if to wash off the stain of contact with a thousand base chieftains,

which had clung to her too long.

By the indwelling of Dharma in his mind, Yama in his wrath, Kuvera in

his kindness, Agni in his splendour, Earth in his arm, Lakshmi in his

glance, Sarasvati in his eloquence, (10) the Moon in his face, the Wind

in his might, Brihaspati in his knowledge, Love in his beauty, the Sun

in his glory, he resembled holy Narayana, whose nature manifests every

form, and who is the very essence of deity. Royal glory came to him

once for all, like a woman coming to meet her lover, on the nights of

battle stormy with the showers of ichor from the elephants' temples,

and stood by him in the midst of the darkness of thousands of coats of

mail, loosened from the doors of the breasts of warriors. She seemed

to be drawn irresistibly by his sword, which was uneven in its edge,

by reason of the drops of water forced out by the pressure of his

strong hand, and which was decked with large pearls clinging to it

when he clove the frontal bones of wild elephants. The flame of his

majesty burnt day and night, as if it were a fire within his foes'

fair wives, albeit reft of their lords, as if he would destroy the

husbands now only enshrined in their hearts.

(11) While he, having subdued the earth, was guardian of the world,

the only mixing of colour [53] was in painting; the only pulling of

hair in caresses; the only strict fetters in the laws of poetry; the

only care was concerning moral law; the only deception was in dreams;

the only golden rods [54] were in umbrellas. Banners alone trembled;

songs alone showed variations [55]; elephants alone were rampant; [56]

bows alone had severed cords; [57] lattice windows alone had ensnaring

network; lovers' disputes alone caused sending of messengers; dice and

chessmen alone left empty squares; and his subjects had no deserted

homes. Under him, too, there was only fear of the next world, only

twisting in the curls of the zenana women, only loquacity in anklets,

only taking the hand [58] in marriage, only shedding of tears from

the smoke of ceaseless sacrificial fires; the only sound of the lash

was for horses, while the only twang of the bow was Love's.

(15) When the thousand-rayed sun, bursting open the young lotus-buds,

had not long risen, though it had lost somewhat of the pinkness of

dawn, a portress approached the king in his hall of audience, and

humbly addressed him. Her form was lovely, yet awe-inspiring, and

with the scimitar (a weapon rarely worn by women) hanging at her left

side, was like a sandal-tree girt by a snake. Her bosom glistened with

rich sandal ointment like the heavenly Ganges when the frontal-bone of

Airavata rises from its waters. (16) The chiefs bent before her seemed,

by her reflection on their crests, to bear her on their foreheads as

a royal command in human form. Like autumn, [59] she was robed in

the whiteness of hamsas; like the blade of Paraçurama she held the

circle of kings in submission; like the forest land of the Vindhyas,

she bore her wand, [60] and she seemed the very guardian-goddess of

the realm. Placing on the ground her lotus hand and knee, she thus

spake: 'Sire, there stands at the gate a Candala maiden from the

South, a royal glory of the race of that Triçamku [61] who climbed

the sky, but fell from it at the murmur of wrathful Indra. She bears

a parrot in a cage, and bids me thus hail your majesty: "Sire, thou,

like the ocean, art alone worthy to receive the treasures of the whole

earth. In the thought that this bird is a marvel, and the treasure of

the whole earth, I bring it to lay at thy feet, and desire to behold

thee." (17) Thou, 0 king, hast heard her message, and must decide!' So

saying, she ended her speech. The king, whose curiosity was aroused,

looked at the chiefs around him, and with the words 'Why not? Bid

her enter?' gave his permission.

Then the portress, immediately on the king's order, ushered in the

Candala maiden. And she entered and beheld the king in the midst of

a thousand chiefs, like golden-peaked Meru in the midst of the noble

mountains crouching together in fear of Indra's thunderbolt; or,

in that the brightness of the jewels scattered on his dress almost

concealed his form, like a day of storm, whereon the eight quarters of

the globe are covered by Indra's thousand bows. He was sitting on a

couch studded with moon-stones, beneath a small silken canopy, white

as the foam of the rivers of heaven, with its four jewel-encrusted

pillars joined by golden chains, and enwreathed with a rope of large

pearls. Many cowries with golden handles waved around him; (18) his

left foot rested on a footstool of crystal that was like the moon

bent in humiliation before the flashing beauty of his countenance,

and was adorned by the brightness of his feet, which yet were tinged

with blue from the light rays of the sapphire pavement, as though

darkened by the sighs of his conquered foes. His breast, crimsoned by

the rubies which shone on his throne, recalled Krishna, red with blood

from the fresh slaughter of Madhukaitabha; his two silken garments,

white as the foam of ambrosia, with pairs of hamsas painted in yellow

on their hem, waved in the wind raised by the cowries; the fragrant

sandal unguent with which his chest was whitened, besprinkled with

saffron ointment, was like snowy Kailasa with the early sunshine upon

it; his face was encircled by pearls like stars mistaking it for the

moon; the sapphire bracelets that clasped his arms were as a threat of

chains to bind fickle fortune, or as snakes attracted by the smell of

sandal-wood; (19) the lotus in his ear hung down slightly; his nose

was aquiline, his eyes were like lotuses in full blossom, the hair

grew in a circle between his brows, and was purified by the waters

that inaugurated his possession of universal rule; his forehead was

like a piece of the eighth-day moon made into a block of pure gold,

garlanded with sweet jasmine, like the Western Mountain in the dawn

with the stars growing pale on its brow. He was like the God of Love

when struck by Çiva's fire, for his body was tawny from the colour

of his ornaments. His hand-maidens surrounded him, as if they were

the goddesses of the quarters of the globe come to worship him; the

earth bore him, as on her heart, through loyalty, in the reflection

of his image in her clear mosaic pavement; fortune seemed his alone,

though by him she was given to all to enjoy. (20) He was without a

second, though his followers were without number; he trusted only

to his own sword, though he had countless elephants and horses in

his retinue; he filled the whole earth, though he stood in a small

space of ground; he rested only on his bow, and yet was seated on his

throne; he shone with the flame of majesty, though all the fuel of

his enemies was uprooted; he had large eyes, and yet saw the smallest

things; he was the home of all virtues, and yet was overreaching;

[62] he was beloved of his wives, and yet was a despotic lord; he was

free from intoxication, though he had an unfailing stream of bounty;

he was fair in nature, yet in conduct a Krishna; [63] he laid no heavy

hand [64] on his subjects, and yet the whole world rested in his grasp.

Such was this king. And she yet afar beholding him, with a hand soft

as the petal of a red lotus, and surrounded by a tinkling bracelet,

and clasping the bamboo with its end jagged, (21) struck once on the

mosaic floor to arouse the king; and at the sound, in a moment the

whole assemblage of chiefs turned their eyes from the king to her,

like a herd of wild elephants at the falling of the cocoanut. Then the

king, with the words, 'Look yonder,' to his suite, gazed steadily upon

the Candala maiden, as she was pointed out by the portress. Before

her went a man, whose hair was hoary with age, whose eyes were the

colour of the red lotus, whose joints, despite the loss of youth,

were firm from incessant labour, whose form, though that of a Matanga,

was not to be despised, and who wore the white raiment meet for a

court. Behind her went a Candala boy, with locks falling on either

shoulder, bearing a cage, the bars of which, though of gold, shone

like emerald from the reflection of the parrot's plumage. (22) She

herself seemed by the darkness of her hue to imitate Krishna when he

guilefully assumed a woman's attire to take away the amrita seized by

the demons. She was, as it were, a doll of sapphire walking alone;

and over the blue garment, which reached to her ankle, there fell a

veil of red silk, like evening sunshine falling on blue lotuses. The

circle of her cheek was whitened by the earring that hung from one

ear, like the face of night inlaid with the rays of the rising moon;

she had a tawny tilaka of gorocana, as if it were a third eye, like

Parvati in mountaineer's attire, after the fashion of the garb of Çiva.

She was like Çri, darkened by the sapphire glory of Narayana reflected

on the robe on her breast; or like Rati, stained by smoke which rose as

Madana was burnt by the fire of wrathful Çiva; or like Yamuna, fleeing

in fear of being drawn along by the ploughshare of wild Balarama;

or, from the rich lac that turned her lotus feet into budding shoots,

like Durga, with her feet crimsoned by the blood of the Asura Mahisha

she had just trampled upon.

(23) Her nails were rosy from the pink glow of her fingers; the

mosaic pavement seemed too hard for her touch, and she came forward,

placing her feet like tender twigs upon the ground.

The rays of her anklets, rising in flame-colour, seemed to encircle

her as with the arms of Agni, as though, by his love for her beauty, he

would purify the stain of her birth, and so set the Creator at naught.

Her girdle was like the stars wreathed on the brow of the elephant

of Love; and her necklace was a rope of large bright pearls, like

the stream of Ganga just tinged by Yamuna.

Like autumn, she opened her lotus eyes; like the rainy season, she had

cloudy tresses; like the circle of the Malaya Hills, she was wreathed

with sandal; (24) like the zodiac, she was decked with starry gems;

[65] like Çri, she had the fairness of a lotus in her hand; like a

swoon, she entranced the heart; like a forest, she was endowed with

living [66] beauty; like the child of a goddess, she was claimed by

no tribe; [67] like sleep, she charmed the eyes; as a lotus-pool in

a wood is troubled by elephants, so was she dimmed by her Matanga

[68] birth; like a spirit, she might not be touched; like a letter,

she gladdened the eyes alone; like the blossoms of spring, she lacked

the jati flower; [69] her slender waist, like the line of Love's bow,

could be spanned by the hands; with her curly hair, she was like the

Lakshmi of the Yaksha king in Alaka. [70] She had but reached the

flower of her youth, and was beautiful exceedingly. And the king was

amazed; and the thought arose in his mind, (25) 'Ill-placed was the

labour of the Creator in producing this beauty! For if she has been

created as though in mockery of her Candala form, such that all the

world's wealth of loveliness is laughed to scorn by her own, why was

she born in a race with which none can mate? Surely by thought alone

did Prajapati create her, fearing the penalties of contact with the

Matanga race, else whence this unsullied radiance, a grace that belongs

not to limbs sullied by touch? Moreover, though fair in form, by the

baseness of her birth, whereby she, like a Lakshmi of the lower world,

is a perpetual reproach to the gods, [71] she, lovely as she is, causes

fear in Brahma, the maker of so strange a union.' While the king was

thus thinking the maiden, garlanded with flowers, that fell over her

ears, bowed herself before him with a confidence beyond her years. And

when she had made her reverence and stepped on to the mosaic floor,

her attendant, taking the parrot, which had just entered the cage,

advanced a few steps, and, showing it to the king, said: 'Sire, this

parrot, by name Vaiçampayana, knows the meaning of all the çastras,

is expert in the practice of royal policy, (26) skilled in tales,

history, and Puranas, and acquainted with songs and with musical

intervals. He recites, and himself composes graceful and incomparable

modern romances, love-stories, plays, and poems, and the like; he

is versed in witticisms, and is an unrivalled disciple of the vina,

flute, and drum. He is skilled in displaying the different movements of

dancing, dextrous in painting, very bold in play, ready in resources

to calm a maiden angered in a lover's quarrel, and familiar with the

characteristics of elephants, horses, men, and women. He is the gem

of the whole earth; and in the thought that treasures belong to thee,

as pearls to the ocean, the daughter of my lord has brought him hither

to thy feet, O king! Let him be accepted as thine.'

Having thus said, he laid the cage before the king and retired. (27)

And when he was gone, the king of birds, standing before the king, and

raising his right foot, having uttered the words, 'All hail!' recited

to the king, in a song perfect in the enunciation of each syllable

and accent, a verse [72] to this effect:

'The bosoms of your foemen's queens now mourn,

Keeping a fast of widowed solitude,

Bathed in salt tears, of pearl-wreaths all forlorn,

Scorched by their sad hearts' too close neighbourhood.'

And the king, having heard it, was amazed, and joyfully addressed

his minister Kumarapalita, who sat close to him on a costly golden

throne, like Brihaspati in his mastery of political philosophy, aged,

of noble birth, first in the circle of wise councillors: 'Thou hast

heard the bird's clear enunciation of consonants, and the sweetness

of his intonation. This, in the first place, is a great marvel, that

he should raise a song in which the syllables are clearly separated;

and there is a combination of correctness with clearness in the vowels

and anunasikas. (28) Then, again, we had something more than that:

for in him, though a lower creation, are found the accomplishments,

as it were, of a man, in a pleasurable art, and the course of his

song is inspired by knowledge. For it was he who, with the cry, "All

hail!" straightened his right foot and sang this song concerning me,

whereas, generally, birds and beasts are only skilled in the science of

fearing, eating, pairing, and sleeping. This is most wonderful.' And

when the king had said this, Kumarapalita, with a slight smile,

replied: 'Where is the wonder? For all kinds of birds, beginning with

the parrot and the maina, repeat a sound once heard, as thou, O king,

knowest; so it is no wonder that exceeding skill is produced either

by the efforts of men, or in consequence of perfection gained in a

former birth. Moreover, they formerly possessed a voice like that of

men, with clear utterance. The indistinct speech of parrots, as well

as the change in elephants' tongues, arose from a curse of Agni.'

Hardly had he thus spoken when there arose the blast of the mid-day

conch, following the roar of the drum distinctly struck at the

completion of the hour, and announcing that the sun had reached

the zenith. (29) And, hearing this, the king dismissed his band of

chiefs, as the hour for bathing was at hand, and arose from his hall

of audience.

Then, as he started, the great chiefs thronged together as they rose,

tearing their silk raiment with the leaf-work of their bracelets,

as it fell from its place in the hurried movement. Their necklaces

were swinging with the shock; the quarters of space were made

tawny by showers of fragrant sandal-powder and saffron scattered

from their limbs in their restlessness; the bees arose in swarms

from their garlands of malati flowers, all quivering; their cheeks

were caressed by the lotuses in their ears, half hanging down; their

strings of pearls were trembling on their bosoms--each longed in his

self-consciousness to pay his respects to the king as he departed.

The hall of audience was astir on all sides with the sound of the

anklets of the cowrie bearers as they disappeared in all directions,

bearing the cowries on their shoulders, their gems tinkling at every

step, broken by the cry of the kalahamsas, eager to drink the lotus

honey; (30) with the pleasant music of the jewelled girdles and

wreaths of the dancing-girls coming to pay their respects as they

struck their breast and sides; with the cries of the kalahamsas

of the palace lake, which, charmed by the sound of the anklets,

whitened the broad steps of the hall of audience; with the voices of

the tame cranes, eager for the sound of the girdles, screaming more

and more with a prolonged outcry, like the scratching of bell-metal;

with the heavy tramp on the floor of the hall of audience struck

by the feet of a hundred neighbouring chiefs suddenly departing,

which seemed to shake the earth like a hurricane; with the cry of

'Look!' from the wand-bearing ushers, who were driving the people

in confusion before them, and shouting loudly, yet good-naturedly,

'Behold!' long and shrill, resounding far by its echo in the bowers

of the palace; (31) with the ringing of the pavement as it was

scratched by the points of diadems with their projecting aigrettes,

as the kings swiftly bent till their trembling crest-gems touched

the ground; with the tinkling of the earrings as they rang on the

hard mosaic in their owners' obeisance; with the space-pervading din

of the bards reciting auspicious verses, and coming forward with the

pleasant continuous cry, 'Long life and victory to our king!'; with

the hum of the bees as they rose up leaving the flowers, by reason

of the turmoil of the hundreds of departing feet; with the clash of

the jewelled pillars on which the gems were set jangling from being

struck by the points of the bracelets as the chieftains fell hastily

prostrate in their confusion. The king then dismissed the assembled

chiefs, saying, 'Rest awhile'; and after saying to the Candala maiden,

'Let Vaiçampayana be taken into the inner apartments,' and giving the

order to his betel-nut bearer, he went, accompanied by a few favourite

princes, to his private apartments. There, laying aside his adornments,

like the sun divested of his rays, or the sky bare of moon and stars,

he entered the hall of exercise, where all was duly prepared. Having

taken pleasant exercise therein with the princes of his own age, (32)

he then entered the bathing-place, which was covered with a white

canopy, surrounded by the verses of many a bard. It had a gold bath,

filled with scented water in its midst, with a crystal bathing-seat

placed by it, and was adorned with pitchers placed on one side,

full of most fragrant waters, having their mouths darkened by bees

attracted by the odour, as if they were covered with blue cloths,

from fear of the heat. (33) Then the hand-maidens, some darkened by

the reflection of their emerald jars, like embodied lotuses with

their leafy cups, some holding silver pitchers, like night with a

stream of light shed by the full moon, duly besprinkled the king. (34)

Straightway there arose a blare of the trumpets sounded for bathing,

penetrating all the hollows of the universe, accompanied by the din

of song, lute, flute, drum, cymbal, and tabor, resounding shrilly

in diverse tones, mingled with the uproar of a multitude of bards,

and cleaving the path of hearing. Then, in due order, the king put

upon him two white garments, light as a shed snake-skin, and wearing

a turban, with an edge of fine silk, pure as a fleck of white cloud,

like Himalaya with the stream of the heavenly river falling upon it,

he made his libation to the Pitris with a handful of water, consecrated

by a hymn, and then, prostrating himself before the sun, proceeded to

the temple. When he had worshipped Çiva, and made an offering to Agni,

(35) his limbs were anointed in the perfuming-room with sandal-wood,

sweetened with the fragrance of saffron, camphor, and musk, the

scent of which was followed by murmuring bees; he put on a chaplet

of scented malati flowers, changed his garb, and, with no adornment

save his jewelled earrings, he, together with the kings, for whom a

fitting meal was prepared, broke his fast, with the pleasure that

arises from the enjoyment of viands of sweet savour. Then, having

drunk of a fragrant drug, rinsed his mouth, and taken his betel, he

arose from his daïs, with its bright mosaic pavement. The portress,

who was close by, hastened to him, and leaning on her arm, he went

to the hall of audience, followed by the attendants worthy to enter

the inner apartments, whose palms were like boughs, very hard from

their firm grasp of their wands.

The hall showed as though walled with crystal by reason of the

white silk that draped its ends; the jewelled floor was watered to

coolness with sandal-water, to which was added very fragrant musk;

the pure mosaic was ceaselessly strewn with masses of blossoms,

as the sky with its bevy of stars; (36) many a golden pillar shone

forth, purified with scented water, and decked with countless images,

as though with the household gods in their niches; aloe spread its

fragrance richly; the whole was dominated by an alcove, which held a

couch white as a cloud after storm, with a flower-scented covering,

a pillow of fine linen at the head, castors encrusted with gems, and

a jewelled footstool by its side, like the peak of Himalaya to behold.

Reclining on this couch, while a maiden, seated on the ground, having

placed in her bosom the dagger she was wont to bear, gently rubbed his

feet with a palm soft as the leaves of fresh lotuses, the king rested

for a short time, and held converse on many a theme with the kings,

ministers, and friends whose presence was meet for that hour.

He then bade the portress, who was at hand, to fetch Vaiçampayana

from the women's apartments, for he had become curious to learn his

story. And she, bending hand and knee to the ground, with the words

'Thy will shall be done!' taking the command on her head, fulfilled

his bidding. (37) Soon Vaiçampayana approached the king, having his

cage borne by the portress, under the escort of a herald, leaning on

a gold staff, slightly bent, white robed, wearing a top-knot silvered

with age, slow in gait, and tremulous in speech, like an aged flamingo

in his love for the race of birds, who, placing his palm on the ground,

thus delivered his message: 'Sire, the queens send thee word that by

thy command this Vaiçampayana has been bathed and fed, and is now

brought by the portress to thy feet.' Thus speaking, he retired,

and the king asked Vaiçampayana: 'Hast thou in the interval eaten

food sufficient and to thy taste?' 'Sire,' replied he, 'what have

I not eaten? I have drunk my fill of the juice of the jambu fruit,

aromatically sweet, pink and blue as a cuckoo's eye in the gladness

of spring; I have cracked the pomegranate seeds, bright as pearls

wet with blood, which lions' claws have torn from the frontal bones

of elephants. I have torn at my will old myrobalans, green as lotus

leaves, and sweet as grapes. (38) But what need of further words? For

everything brought by the queens with their own hands turns to

ambrosia.' And the king, rebuking his talk, said: 'Let all this

cease for a while, and do thou remove our curiosity. Tell us from

the very beginning the whole history of thy birth--in what country,

and how wert thou born, and by whom was thy name given? Who were thy

father and mother? How came thine attainment of the Vedas, and thine

acquaintance with the Çastras, and thy skill in the fine arts? What

caused thy remembrance of a former birth? Was it a special boon given

thee? Or dost thou dwell in disguise, wearing the form only of a bird,

and where didst thou formerly dwell? How old art thou, and how came

this bondage of a cage, and the falling into the hands of a Candala

maiden, and thy coming hither?' Thus respectfully questioned by the

king, whose curiosity was kindled, Vaiçampayana thought a moment,

and reverently replied, 'Sire, the tale is long; but if it is thy

pleasure, let it be heard.'

'There is a forest, by name Vindhya, that embraces the shores of the

eastern and western ocean, and decks the central region as though

it were the earth's zone. (39) It is beauteous with trees watered

with the ichor of wild elephants, and bearing on their crests masses

of white blossom that rise to the sky and vie with the stars; in

it the pepper-trees, bitten by ospreys in their spring gladness,

spread their boughs; tamala branches trampled by young elephants

fill it with fragrance; shoots in hue like the wine-flushed cheeks

of Malabaris, as though roseate with lac from the feet of wandering

wood-nymphs, overshadow it. Bowers there are, too, wet with drippings

from parrot-pierced pomegranates; bowers in which the ground is covered

with torn fruit and leaves shaken down by restless monkeys from the

kakkola trees, or sprinkled with pollen from ever-falling blossoms,

or strewn with couches of clove-branches by travellers, or hemmed

in by fine cocoanuts, ketakis, kariras, and bakulas; bowers so fair

that with their areca trees girt about with betel vines, they make

a fitting home for a woodland Lakshmi. Thickly growing elas make

the wood dark and fragrant, as with the ichor of wild elephants;

(40) hundreds of lions, who meet their death from barbaric leaders

eager to seize the pearls of the elephants' frontal-bones still

clinging to their mouth and claws, roam therein; it is fearful as

the haunt of death, like the citadel of Yama, and filled with the

buffaloes dear to him; like an army ready for battle, it has bees

resting on its arrow-trees, as the points on arrows, and the roar of

the lion is clear as the lion-cry of onset; it has rhinoceros tusks

dreadful as the dagger of Durga, and like her is adorned with red

sandal-wood; like the story of Karnisuta, it has its Vipula, Acala

and Çaça in the wide mountains haunted by hares, [73] that lie near

it; as the twilight of the last eve of an aeon has the frantic dance

of blue-necked Çiva, so has it the dances of blue-necked peacocks,

and bursts into crimson; as the time of churning the ocean had the

glory of Çri and the tree which grants all desires, and was surrounded

by sweet draughts of Varuna, [74] so is it adorned by Çri trees and

Varuna2 trees. It is densely dark, as the rainy season with clouds,

and decked with pools in countless hundreds; [75] like the moon, it

is always the haunt of the bears, and is the home of the deer. [76]

(41) Like a king's palace, it is adorned by the tails of cowrie deer,

[77] and protected by troops of fierce elephants. Like Durga, it is

strong of nature, [78] and haunted by the lion. Like Sita, it has

its Kuça, and is held by the wanderer of night. [79] Like a maiden

in love, it wears the scent of sandal and musk, and is adorned with

a tilaka of bright aloes; [80] like a lady in her lover's absence,

it is fanned with the wind of many a bough, and possessed of Madana;

[81] like a child's neck, it is bright with rows of tiger's-claws,

[82] and adorned with a rhinoceros; [83] like a hall of revelry with

its honeyed draughts, it has hundreds of beehives [84] visible, and

is strewn with flowers. In parts it has a circle of earth torn up by

the tusks of large boars, like the end of the world when the circle

of the earth was lifted up by the tusks of Mahavaraha; here, like

the city of Ravana, it is filled with lofty çalas [85] inhabited by

restless monkeys; (42) here it is, like the scene of a recent wedding,

bright with fresh kuça grass, fuel, flowers, acacia, and palaça; here,

it seems to bristle in terror at the lions' roar; here, it is vocal

with cuckoos wild for joy; here it is, as if in excitement, resonant

with the sound of palms [86] in the strong wind; here, it drops its

palm-leaves like a widow giving up her earrings; here, like a field of

battle, it is filled with arrowy reeds; [87] here, like Indra's body,

it has a thousand netras; [88] here, like Vishnu's form, it has the

darkness of tamalas; [89] here, like the banner of Arjuna's chariot,

it is blazoned with monkeys; here, like the court of an earthly king,

it is hard of access, through the bamboos; here, like the city of

King Virata, it is guarded by a Kicaka; [90] here, like the Lakshmi of

the sky, it has the tremulous eyes of its deer pursued by the hunter;

[91] here, like an ascetic, it has bark, bushes, and ragged strips and

grass. [92] (43) Though adorned with Saptaparna, [93] it yet possesses

leaves innumerable; though honoured by ascetics, it is yet very savage;

[94] though in its season of blossom, it is yet most pure.

'In that forest there is a hermitage, famed throughout the world--a

very birthplace of Dharma. It is adorned with trees tended by

Lopamudra as her own children, fed with water sprinkled by her own

hands, and trenched round by herself. She was the wife of the great

ascetic Agastya; he it was who at the prayer of Indra drank up the

waters of ocean, and who, when the Vindhya mountains, by a thousand

wide peaks stretching to the sky in rivalry of Meru, were striving to

stop the course of the sun's chariot, and were despising the prayers

of all the gods, yet had his commands obeyed by them; who digested the

demon Vatapi by his inward fire; who had the dust of his feet kissed

by the tips of the gold ornaments on the crests of gods and demons; who

adorned the brow of the Southern Region; and who manifested his majesty

by casting Nahusha down from heaven by the mere force of his murmur.

(44) 'The hermitage is also hallowed by Lopamudra's son Dridhadasyu,

an ascetic, bearing his staff of palaça, [95] wearing a sectarial

mark made of purifying ashes, clothed in strips of kuça grass,

girt with muñja, holding a cup of green leaves in his roaming from

hut to hut to ask alms. From the large supply of fuel he brought,

he was surnamed by his father Fuelbearer.

'The place is also darkened in many a spot by green parrots and by

plantain groves, and is girt by the river Godaveri, which, like a

dutiful wife, followed the path of the ocean when drunk by Agastya.

'There, too, Rama, when he gave up his kingdom to keep his father's

promise, dwelt happily for some time at Pañcavati with Sita, following

the great ascetic Agastya, living in a pleasant hut made by Lakshmana,

even Rama, the vexer of the triumphs of Ravana's glory. [96]

'There, even now, the trees, though the hermitage has long been empty,

show, as it were, in the lines of white doves softly nestling in the

boughs, the hermits' pure lines of sacrificial smoke clinging to them;

and there a glow bursts forth on the shoots of creepers, as if it had

passed to them from Sita's hand as she offered flowers of oblation;

(45) there the water of ocean drunk and sent forth by the ascetic

seems to have been wholly distributed among the great lakes round the

hermitage; there the wood, with its fresh foliage, shines as if its

roots had been watered with the blood of countless hosts of demons

struck down by Rama's many keen shafts, and as if now its palaaças

were stained with their crimson hue; there, even yet, the old deer

nurtured by Sita, when they hear the deep roar of fresh clouds in the

rainy season, think on the twang of Rama's bow penetrating all the

hollows of the universe, and refuse their mouthfuls of fresh grass,

while their eyes are dimmed by ceaseless tears, as they see a deserted

world, and their own horns crumbling from age; there, too, the golden

deer, as if it had been incited by the rest of the forest deer slain

in the ceaseless chase, deceived Sita, and led the son of Raghu

far astray; there, too, in their grief for the bitter loss of Sita,

Rama and Lakshmana seized by Kabandha, like an eclipse of sun and moon

heralding the death of Ravana, filled the universe with a mighty dread;

(46) there, too, the arm of Yojanabahu, struck off by Rama's arrow,

caused fear in the saints as it lay on the ground, lest it should be

the serpent form of Nahusha, brought back by Agastya's curse; there,

even now, foresters behold Sita painted inside the hut by her husband

to solace his bereavement, as if she were again rising from the ground

in her longing to see her husband's home.

'Not far from that hermitage of Agastya, of which the ancient history

is yet clearly to be seen, is a lotus lake called Pampa. It stands

near that hermitage, as if it were a second ocean made by the Creator

in rivalry with Agastya, at the prompting of Varuna, wrathful at

the drinking of ocean; it is like the sky fallen on earth to bind

together the fragments of the eight quarters when severed in the

day of doom. [97] (48) It is, indeed, a peerless home of waters,

and its depth and extent none can tell. There, even now, the wanderer

may see pairs of cakravakas, with their wings turned to blue by the

gleam of the blossoming lotuses, as if they were swallowed up by the

impersonate curse of Rama.

'On the left bank of that lake, and near a clump of palms broken

by Rama's arrows, was a large old çalmali tree. [98] It shows as

though it were enclosed in a large trench, because its roots are

always encircled by an old snake, like the trunk of the elephants

of the quarters; (49) it seems to be mantled with the slough of

serpents, which hangs on its lofty trunk and waves in the wind;

it strives to compass the measurement of the circle of space by its

many boughs spreading through the firmament, and so to imitate Çiva,

whose thousand arms are outstretched in his wild dance at the day

of doom, and who wears the moon on his crest. Through its weight of

years, it clings for support even to the shoulder of the wind; it is

girt with creepers that cover its whole trunk, and stand out like the

thick veins of old age. Thorns have gathered on its surface like the

moles of old age; not even the thick clouds by which its foliage is

bedewed can behold its top, when, after drinking the waters of ocean,

they return from all sides to the sky, and pause for a moment, weary

with their load of water, like birds amongst its boughs. From its

great height, it seems to be on tiptoe to look [99] at the glory of

the Nandana [100] Wood; its topmost branches are whitened by cotton,

which men might mistake for foam dropped from the corners of their

mouths by the sun's steeds as, beset with weariness of their path

through the sky, they come near it in their course overhead; (50)

it has a root that will last for an aeon, for, with the garland

of drunken bees sticking to the ichor which clings to it where the

cheeks of woodland elephants are rubbed against it, it seems to be

held motionless by iron chains; it seems alive with swarms of bees,

flashing in and out of its hollow trunk. It beholds the alighting of

the wings of birds, as Duryodhana receives proofs of Çakuni's [101]

partizanship; like Krishna, it is encircled by a woodland chaplet;

[102] like a mass of fresh clouds its rising is seen in the sky. It

is a temple whence woodland goddesses can look out upon the whole

world. It is the king of the Dandaka Wood, the leader of the lordly

trees, the friend of the Vindhya Mountains, and it seems to embrace

with the arms of its boughs the whole Vindhya Forest. There, on the

edge of the boughs, in the centre of the crevices, amongst the twigs,

in the joints of the trunks, in the holes of the rotten bark, flocks

of parrots have taken their abode. From its spaciousness, they have

confidently built in it their thousand nests; from its steepness,

they have come to it fearlessly from every quarter. Though its

leaves are thin with age, this lord of the forest still looks green

with dense foliage, as they rest upon it day and night. (51) In it

they spend the nights in their own nests, and daily, as they rise,

they form lines in the sky; they show in heaven like Yamuna with her

wide streams scattered by the tossing of Bala's ploughshare in his

passion; they suggest a lotus-bed of the heavenly Ganges flowing away,

uprooted by the elephant of heaven; they show forth a sky streaked,

as it were, with the brightness of the steeds of the sun's chariot;

they wear the semblance of a moving floor of emerald; they stretch

out in the lake of heaven like long twines of Vallisneria; they fan

the faces of the quarters wearied with the mass of the sun's keen

rays, with their wings spread against the sky like plantain leaves;

they form a grassy path stretching through the heaven, and as they

roam they grace the firmament with a rainbow. After their meal they

return to the young birds which stay in the nest, and give them,

from beaks pink as tiger's claws reddened with the blood of slain

deer, the juice of fruits and many a dainty morsel of rice-clusters,

for by their deep love to their children all their other likings are

subdued; (52) then they spend the night in this same tree with their

young under their wings.

'Now my father, who by reason of his great age barely dragged on his

life, dwelt with my mother in a certain old hollow, and to him I was,

by the decree of Fate, born as his only son. My mother, overcome by

the pains of child-birth when I was born, went to another world, and,

in spite of his grief for the death of his loved wife, my father, from

love to his child, checked the keen onrush of his sorrow, and devoted

himself in his loneliness wholly to my nurture. From his great age,

the wide wings he raised had lost their power of flight, and hung

loose from his shoulders, so that when he shook them he seemed to

be trying to shake off the painful old age that clung to his body,

while his few remaining tail feathers were broken like a tatter of

kuça grass; and yet, though he was unable to wander far, he gathered

up bits of fruit torn down by parrots and fallen at the foot of the

tree, and picked up grains of rice from rice-stalks that had fallen

from other nests, with a beak the point of which was broken and the

edge worn away and rubbed by breaking rice-clusters, and pink as the

stalk of the sephalika flower when still hard, and he daily made his

own meal on what I left.

(53) 'But one day I heard a sound of the tumult of the chase. The

moon, reddened by the glow of dawn, was descending to the shore

of the Western Ocean, from the island of the heavenly Ganges, like

an old hamsa with its wings reddened by the honey of the heavenly

lotus-bed; the circle of space was widening, and was white as the

hair of a ranku deer; the throng of stars, like flowers strewn on

the pavement of heaven, were being cast away by the sun's long rays,

as if they were brooms of rubies, for they were red as a lion's

mane dyed in elephant's blood, or pink as sticks of burning lac; the

cluster of the Seven Sages was, as it were, descending the bank of the

Manasa Lake, and rested on the northern quarter to worship the dawn;

the Western Ocean was lifting a mass of pearls, scattered from open

shells on its shore, as though the stars, melted by the sun's rays,

had fallen on it, whitening the surface of its alluvial islands. The

wood was dropping dew; its peacocks were awake; its lions were yawning;

(54) its wild elephants were wakened by herds of she-elephants, and

it, with its boughs raised like reverential hands, sent up towards

the sun, as he rested on the peak of the Eastern Mountain, a mass of

flowers, the filaments of which were heavy with the night dews. The

lines of sacrificial smoke from the hermitages, gray as the hair

of an ass, were gleaming like banners of holiness, and rested like

doves on the tree-tops whereon the wood-nymphs dwelt. The morning

breeze was blowing, and roamed softly, for it was weary at the end

of night; it gladdened swarms of bees by the flowers' perfume; it

rained showers of honey dew from the opened lotuses; it was eager

to teach the dancing creepers with their waving boughs; it carried

drops of foam from the rumination of woodland buffaloes; it removed

the perspiration of the weary mountaineers; it shook the lotuses, and

bore with it the dewdrops. The bees, who ought to be the drums on the

elephant's frontal-bones to recite auspicious songs for the wakening

of the day lotus-groves, now sent up their hum from the hearts of the

night-lotuses, as their wings were clogged in the closing petals;

(55) the deer of the wood had the markings on their breast, gray

with resting on the salt ground, and slowly opened eyes, the pupils

of which were still squinting with the remains of sleep, and were

caught by the cool morning breeze as if their eyelashes were held

together by heated lac; foresters were hastening hither and thither;

the din of the kalahamsas on the Pampa Lake, sweet to the ear, was

now beginning; the pleasant flapping of the wild elephant's ears

breaking forth caused the peacocks to dance; in time the sun himself

slowly arose, and wandered among the tree-tops round the Pampa Lake,

and haunted the mountain peaks, with rays of madder, like a mass of

cowries bending downwards from the sun's elephant as he plunges into

the sky; the fresh light sprung from the sun banished the stars,

falling on the wood like the monkey king who had again lost Tara;

[103] the morning twilight became visible quickly, occupying the

eighth part of the day, and the sun's light became clear.

'The troops of parrots had all started to the places they desired;

that tree seemed empty by reason of the great stillness, though it had

all the young parrots resting quietly in their nests. (56) My father

was still in his own nest, and I, as from my youth my wings were

hardly fledged and had no strength, was close to him in the hollow,

when I suddenly heard in that forest the sound of the tumult of the

chase. It terrified every woodland creature; it was drawn out by a

sound of birds' wings flying hastily up; it was mingled with cries

from the frightened young elephants; it was increased by the hum of

drunken bees, disturbed on the shaken creepers; it was loud with the

noise of wild boars roaming with raised snouts; it was swollen by the

roar of lions wakened from their sleep in mountain caves; it seemed to

shake the trees, and was great as the noise of the torrents of Ganges,

when brought down by Bhagiratha; and the woodland nymphs listened to

it in terror.

'When I heard this strange sound I began to tremble in my childishness;

the cavity of my ear was almost broken; I shook for fear, and thinking

that my father, who was close by, could help me, I crept within his

wings, loosened as they were by age.

'Straightway I heard an outcry of "Hence comes the scent of the

lotus beds the leaders of the elephants have trampled! Hence the

perfume of rushes the boars have chewed! Hence the keen fragrance

of gum-olibanum the young elephants have divided! Hence the rustling

of dry leaves shaken down! (57) Hence the dust of antheaps that the

horns of wild buffaloes have cleft like thunderbolts! Hence came a

herd of deer! Hence a troop of wild elephants! Hence a band of wild

boars! Hence a multitude of wild buffaloes! Hence the shriek of a

circle of peacocks! Hence the murmur of partridges! Hence the cry of

ospreys! Hence the groan of elephants with their frontal bones torn

by lion's claws! This is a boar's path stained with fresh mud! This

a mass of foam from the rumination of deer, darkened by the juice

of mouthfuls of grass just eaten! This the hum of bees garrulous as

they cling to the scent left by the rubbing of elephants' foreheads

with ichor flowing! That the path of the ruru deer pink with withered

leaves bedewed with blood that has been shed. That is a mass of shoots

on the trees crushed by the feet of elephants! Those are the gambols

of rhinoceroses; that is the lion's track jagged with pieces of the

elephant's pearls, pink with blood, and engraved with a monstrous

device by their claws; that is the earth crimsoned with the blood of

the newly born offspring of the does; that is the path, like a widow's

braid, darkened with the ichor of the lord of the herd wandering at his

will! Follow this row of yaks straight before us! Quickly occupy this

part of the wood where the dung of the deer is dried! (58) Climb the

tree-top! Look out in this direction! Listen to this sound! Take the

bow! Stand in your places! Let slip the hounds!" The wood trembled

at the tumult of the hosts of men intent on the chase shouting to

each other and concealed in the hollows of the trees.

'Then that wood was soon shaken on all sides by the roar of lions

struck by the Çabaras' arrows, deepened by its echo rebounding from

the hollows of the mountains, and strong as the sound of a drum newly

oiled; by the roar from the throats of the elephants that led the herd,

like the growl of thunder, and mixed with the ceaseless lashing of

their trunks, as they came on alone, separated from the frightened

herd; by the piteous cry of the deer, with their tremulous, terrified

eyes, when the hounds suddenly tore their limbs; by the yell of

she-elephants lengthening in grief for the death of their lord and

leader, as they wandered every way with ears raised, ever pausing

to listen to the din, bereft of their slain leaders and followed by

their young; (59) by the bellowing of she-rhinoceroses seeking with

outstretched necks their young, only born a few days before, and now

lost in the panic; by the outcry of birds flying from the tree-tops,

and wandering in confusion; by the tramp of herds of deer with all

the haste of limbs made for speed, seeming to make the earth quake

as it was struck simultaneously by their hurrying feet; by the twang

of bows drawn to the ear, mingled, as they rained their arrows, with

the cry from the throats of the loving she-ospreys; by the clash of

swords with their blades whizzing against the wind and falling on the

strong shoulders of buffaloes; and by the baying of the hounds which,

as it was suddenly sent forth, penetrated all the recesses of the wood.

'When soon afterwards the noise of the chase was stilled and the

wood had become quiet, like the ocean when its water was stilled by

the ceasing of the churning, or like a mass of clouds silent after

the rainy season, I felt less of fear and became curious, and so,

moving a little from my father's embrace, (60) I stood in the hollow,

stretched out my neck, and with eyes that, from my childishness, were

yet tremulous with fear, in my eagerness to see what this thing was,

I cast my glance in that direction.

'Before me I saw the Çabara [104] army come out from the wood like

the stream of Narmada tossed by Arjuna's [105] thousand arms; like a

wood of tamalas stirred by the wind; like all the nights of the dark

fortnight rolled into one; like a solid pillar of antimony shaken by

an earthquake; like a grove of darkness disturbed by sunbeams; like

the followers of death roaming; like the demon world that had burst

open hell and risen up; like a crowd of evil deeds come together;

like a caravan of curses of the many hermits dwelling in the Dandaka

Forest; like all the hosts of Dushana [106] and Khara struck by

Rama as he rained his ceaseless shafts, and they turned into demons

for their hatred to him; like the whole confraternity of the Iron

Age come together; like a band of buffaloes prepared for a plunge

into the water; like a mass of black clouds broken by a blow from a

lion's paw as he stands on the mountain peak; [107] like a throng of

meteors risen for the destruction of all form; it darkened the wood;

it numbered many thousands; it inspired great dread; it was like a

multitude of demons portending disasters.

(61) 'And in the midst of that great host of Çabaras I beheld the

Çabara leader, Matanga by name. He was yet in early youth; from his

great hardness he seemed made of iron; he was like Ekalavya [108]

in another birth; from his growing beard, he was like a young royal

elephant with its temples encircled by its first line of ichor;

he filled the wood with beauty that streamed from him sombre as

dark lotuses, like the waters of Yamuna; he had thick locks curled

at the ends and hanging on his shoulders, like a lion with its

mane stained by elephant's ichor; his brow was broad; his nose was

stern and aquiline; his left side shone reddened by the faint pink

rays of a jewelled snake's hood that was made the ornament for one

of his ears, like the glow of shoots that had clung to him from

his resting on a leafy couch; he was perfumed with fragrant ichor,

bearing the scent of saptacchada blossoms torn from the cheeks of an

elephant freshly slain, like a stain of black aloes; (62) he had the

heat warded off by a swarm of bees, like a peacock-feather parasol,

flying about blinded by the scent, as if they were a branch of tamala;

he was marked with lines of perspiration on his cheek rubbed by his

hand, as if Vindhya Forest, being conquered by his strong arm, were

timidly offering homage under the guise of its slender waving twigs,

and he seemed to tinge space by his eye somewhat pink, as if it were

bloodshot, and shedding a twilight of the night of doom for the deer;

he had mighty arms reaching to his knees, as if the measure of an

elephant's trunk had been taken in making them, and his shoulders were

rough with scars from keen weapons often used to make an offering of

blood to Kali; the space round his eyes was bright and broad as the

Vindhya Mountain, and with the drops of dried deer's blood clinging

on it, and the marking of drops of perspiration, as if they were

adorned by large pearls from an elephant's frontal bone mixed with

guñja fruit; his chest was scarred by constant and ceaseless fatigue;

he was clad in a silk dress red with cochineal, and with his strong

legs he mocked a pair of elephants' posts stained with elephants'

ichor; he seemed from his causeless fierceness to have been marked

on his dread brow by a frown that formed three banners, as if Durga,

propitiated by his great devotion, had marked him with a trident to

denote that he was her servant. (63) He was accompanied by hounds

of every colour, which were his familiar friends; they showed their

weariness by tongues that, dry as they were, seemed by their natural

pinkness to drip deer's blood, and which hung down far from tiredness;

as their mouths were open they raised the corners of their lips and

showed their flashing teeth clearly, like a lion's mane caught between

the teeth; their throats were covered with strings of cowries, and they

were hacked by blows from the large boars' tusks; though but small,

from their great strength they were like lions' cubs with their manes

ungrown; they were skilled in initiating the does in widowhood; with

them came their wives, very large, like lionesses coming to beg an

amnesty for the lions. He was surrounded by troops of Çabaras of all

kinds: some had seized elephants' tusks and the long hair of yaks;

some had vessels for honey made of leaves closely bound; some, like

lions, had hands filled with many a pearl from the frontal bones of

elephants; some, like demons, had pieces of raw flesh; some, like

goblins, were carrying the skins of lions; some, like Jain ascetics,

held peacocks' tails; some, like children, wore crows' feathers; [109]

some represented Krishna's [110] exploits by bearing the elephants'

tusks they had torn out; (64) some, like the days of the rainy season,

had garments dark as clouds. [111] He had his sword-sheath, as a

wood its rhinoceroses; [112] like a fresh cloud, he held a bow [113]

bright as peacocks' tails; like the demon Vaka, [114] he possessed a

peerless army; like Garuda, he had torn out the teeth of many large

nagas; [115] he was hostile to peacocks, as Bhishma to Çikhandi; [116]

like a summer day, he always showed a thirst for deer; [117] like a

heavenly genius, he was impetuous in pride; [118] as Vyasa followed

Yojanagandha, [119] so did he follow the musk deer; like Ghatotkaca,

he was dreadful in form; [120] as the locks of Uma were decked with

Çiva's moon, so was he adorned with the eyes in the peacocks' tails;

[121] as the demon Hiranyakaçipu [122] by Mahavaraha, so he had his

breast torn by the teeth of a great boar; (65) like an ambitious

man, [123] he had a train of captives around him; like a demon,

he loved [124] the hunters; like the gamut of song, he was closed

in by Nishadas; [125] like the trident of Durga, he was wet with the

blood of buffaloes; though quite young, he had seen many lives pass;

[126] though he had many hounds, [127] he lived on roots and fruits;

though of Krishna's hue, [128] he was not good to look on; though

he wandered at will, his mountain fort [129] was his only refuge;

though he always lived at the foot of a lord of earth, [130] he was

unskilled in the service of a king.

'He was as the child of the Vindhya Mountains, the partial avatar of

death; the born brother of wickedness, the essence of the Iron Age;

horrible as he was, he yet inspired awe by reason of his natural

greatness, [131] and his form could not be surpassed. [132] His name I

afterwards learnt. In my mind was this thought: "Ah, the life of these

men is full of folly, and their career is blamed by the good. (66)

For their one religion is offering human flesh to Durga; their meat,

mead, and so forth, is a meal loathed by the good; their exercise is

the chase; their çastra [133] is the cry of the jackal; their teachers

of good and evil are owls; [134] their knowledge is skill in birds;

[135] their bosom friends are dogs; their kingdom is in deserted

woods; their feast is a drinking bout; their friends are the bows

that work their cruel deeds, and arrows, with their heads smeared,

like snakes, with poison, are their helpers; their song is what draws

on bewildered deer; their wives are the wives of others taken captive;

their dwelling is with savage tigers; their worship of the gods is with

the blood of beasts, their sacrifice with flesh, their livelihood by

theft; the snakes' hood is their ornament; their cosmetic, elephants'

ichor; and the very wood wherein they may dwell is utterly destroyed

root and branch."

'As I was thus thinking, the Çabara leader, desiring to rest after

his wandering through the forest, approached, and, laying his bow

in the shade beneath that very cotton-tree, sat down on a seat of

twigs gathered hastily by his suite. (67) Another youthful Çabara,

coming down hastily, brought to him from the lake, when he had stirred

its waters with his hand, some water aromatic with lotus-pollen, and

freshly-plucked bright lotus-fibres with their mud washed off; the

water was like liquid lapis lazuli, or showed as if it were painted

with a piece of sky fallen from the heat of the sun's rays in the day

of doom, or had dropped from the moon's orb, or were a mass of melted

pearl, or as if in its great purity it was frozen into ice, and could

only be distinguished from it by touch. After drinking it, the Çabara

in turn devoured the lotus-fibres, as Rahu does the moon's digits;

when he was rested he rose, and, followed by all his host, who had

satisfied their thirst, he went slowly to his desired goal. But one

old Çabara from that barbarous troop had got no deer's flesh, and,

with a demoniac [136] expression coming into his face in his desire

for meat, he lingered a short time by that tree. (68) As soon as the

Çabara leader had vanished, that old Çabara, with eyes pink as drops

of blood and terrible with their overhanging tawny brows, drank in, as

it were, our lives; he seemed to reckon up the number in the parrots'

nests like a falcon eager to taste bird's flesh, and looked up the

tree from its foot, wishing to climb it. The parrots seemed to have

drawn their last breath at that very moment in their terror at the

sight of him. For what is hard for the pitiless? So he climbed the

tree easily and without effort, as if by ladders, though it was as

high as many palms, and the tops of its boughs swept the clouds,

and plucked the young parrots from among its boughs one by one,

as if they were its fruit, for some were not yet strong for flight;

some were only a few days old, and were pink with the down of their

birth, so that they might almost be taken for cotton-flowers; [137]

some, with their wings just sprouting, were like fresh lotus-leaves;

some were like the Asclepias fruit; some, with their beaks growing

red, had the grace of lotus-buds with their heads rising pink from

slowly unfolding leaves; while some, under the guise of the ceaseless

motion of their heads, seemed to try to forbid him, though they could

not stop him, for he slew them and cast them on the ground.

(69) 'But my father, seeing on a sudden this great, destructive,

remediless, overwhelming calamity that had come on us, trembled doubly,

and, with pupils quivering and wandering from fear of death, cast

all round a glance that grief had made vacant and tears had dimmed;

his palate was dry, and he could not help himself, but he covered me

with his wing, though its joints were relaxed by fear, and bethought

himself of what help could avail at such a moment. Swayed wholly by

love, bewildered how to save me, and puzzled what to do, he stood,

holding me to his breast. That miscreant, however, wandering among

the boughs, came to the entrance of the hollow, and stretched out

his left arm, dreadful as the body of an old black snake, with its

hand redolent of the raw fat of many boars, and its forearm marked

with weals from ceaseless drawing of the bowstrings, like the wand of

death; and though my father gave many a blow with his beak, and moaned

piteously, that murderous wretch dragged him down and slew him. (70)

Me, however, he somehow did not notice, though I was within the wings,

from my being small and curled into a ball from fear, and from my

not having lived my fated life, but he wrung my father's neck and

threw him dead upon the ground. Meanwhile I, with my neck between my

father's feet, clinging quietly to his breast, fell with him, and,

from my having some fated life yet to live, I found that I had fallen

on a large mass of dry leaves, heaped together by the wind, so that

my limbs were not broken. While the Çabara was getting down from the

tree-top, I left my father, like a heartless wretch, though I should

have died with him; but, from my extreme youth, I knew not the love

that belongs to a later age, and was wholly swayed by the fear that

dwells in us from birth; I could hardly be seen from the likeness of

my colour to the fallen leaves; I tottered along with the help of my

wings, which were just beginning to grow, thinking that I had escaped

from the jaws of death, and came to the foot of a very large tamala

tree close by. Its shoots were fitted to be the earrings of Çabara

women, as if it mocked the beauty of Vishnu's body by the colour of

Balarama's dark-blue robe, (71) or as if it were clad in pure strips

of the water of Yamuna; its twigs were watered by the ichor of wild

elephants; it bore the beauty of the tresses of the Vindhya Forest;

the space between its boughs was dark even by day; [138] the ground

round its root was hollow, and unpierced by the sun's rays; and I

entered it as if it were the bosom of my noble father. Then the Çabara

came down and gathered up the tiny parrots scattered on the ground;

he bound them hastily in a basket of leaves with a coil of creepers,

and going off with hasty steps by the path trodden by his leader,

he made for that region. I meanwhile had begun to hope for life,

but my heart was dried up with grief for my father's recent death; my

body was in pain from my long fall, and I was possessed by a violent

thirst, caused by fright, which tortured all my limbs. Then I thought,

"The villain has now gone some way," so I lifted my head a little and

gazed around with eyes tremulous with fear, thinking even when a blade

of grass moved that the wretch was coming back. I watched him go step

by step, and then, leaving the root of the tamala tree, I made a great

effort to creep near the water. (72) My steps were feeble, because

my wings were not yet grown, and again and again I fell on my face;

I supported myself on one wing; I was weak with the weariness [139]

of creeping along the ground, and from my want of practice; after

each step I always lifted my head and panted hard, and as I crept

along I became gray with dust. "Truly even in the hardest trials,"

I reflected, "living creatures never become careless of life. Nothing

in this world is dearer to all created beings than life, seeing that

when my honoured father, of well-chosen name, is dead, I still live

with senses unimpaired! Shame on me that I should be so pitiless,

cruel, and ungrateful! For my life goes on shamefully in that the

grief of my father's death is so easily borne. I regard no kindness;

truly my heart is vile! I have even forgotten how, when my mother died,

my father restrained his bitter grief, and from the day of my birth,

old as he was, reckoned lightly in his deep love the great toil of

bringing me up with every care. And yet in a moment I have forgotten

how I was watched over by him! (73) Most vile is this breath of mine

which goes not straightway forth to follow my father on his path,

my father, that was so good to me! Surely there is none that thirst

of life does not harden, if the longing for water can make me take

trouble in my present plight. Methinks this idea of drinking water

is purely hardness of heart, because I think lightly of the grief

of my father's death. Even now the lake is still far off. For the

cry of the kalahamsas, like the anklets of a water-nymph, is still

far away; the cranes' notes are yet dim; the scent of the lotus-bed

comes rarely through the space it creeps through, because the distance

is great; noontide is hard to bear, for the sun is in the midst of

heaven, and scatters with his rays a blazing heat, unceasing, like

fiery dust, and makes my thirst worse; the earth with its hot thick

dust is hard to tread; my limbs are unable to go even a little way,

for they are weary with excessive thirst; I am not master of myself;

(74) my heart sinks; my eyes are darkened. O that pitiless fate would

now bring that death which yet I desire not!" Thus I thought; but

a great ascetic named Jabali dwelt in a hermitage not far from the

lake, and his son Harita, a youthful hermit, was coming down to the

lotus-lake to bathe. He, like the son of Brahma, had a mind purified

with all knowledge; he was coming by the very path where I was with

many holy youths of his own age; like a second sun, his form was hard

to see from its great brightness; he seemed to have dropped [140]

from the rising sun, and to have limbs fashioned from lightning and

a shape painted with molten gold; he showed the beauty of a wood on

fire, or of day with its early sunlight, by reason of the clear tawny

splendour of his form flashing out; he had thick matted locks hanging

on his shoulders red as heated iron, and pure with sprinkling from

many a sacred pool; his top-knot was bound as if he were Agni in the

false guise of a young Brahman in his desire to burn the Khandava Wood;

[141] he carried a bright crystal rosary hanging from his right ear,

like the anklets of the goddesses of the hermitage, and resembling the

circle of Dharma's commandments, made to turn aside all earthly joys;

(75) he adorned his brow with a tripundraka [142] mark in ashes, as if

with threefold truth; [143] he laid his left hand on a crystal pitcher

with its neck held ever upwards as if to look at the path to heaven,

like a crane gazing upwards to the sky; he was covered by a black

antelope skin hanging from his shoulders, like thick smoke that was

coming out again after being swallowed [144] in thirst for penance,

with pale-blue [145] lustre; he wore on his left shoulder a sacrificial

thread, which seemed from its lightness to be fashioned from very young

lotus-fibres, and wavered in the wind as if counting the framework of

his fleshless ribs; he held in his right hand an ashadha [146] staff,

having on its top a leafy basket full of creeper-blossoms gathered

for the worship of Çiva; he was followed by a deer from the hermitage,

still bearing the clay of the bathing-place dug up by its horns, quite

at home with the hermits, fed on mouthfuls of rice, and letting its

eyes wander on all sides to the kuça grass flowers and creepers. Like

a tree, he was covered with soft bark; [147] like a mountain, he was

surrounded by a girdle; [148] like Rahu, he had often tasted Soma;

[149] like a day lotus-bed, he drank the sun's rays; (76) like a

tree by the river's side, his tangled locks were pure with ceaseless

washing; like a young elephant, his teeth were white as [150] pieces

of moon-lotus petals; like Drauni, he had Kripa [151] ever with him;

like the zodiac, he was adorned by having the hide [152] of the

dappled deer; like a summer day, he was free from darkness; [153]

like the rainy season, he had allayed the blinding dust of passion;

[154] like Varuna, he dwelt on the waters; [155] like Krishna, he had

banished the fear of hell; [156] like the beginning of twilight,

he had eyes tawny as the glow of dawn; [157] like early morn,

he was gilded with fresh sunlight; like the chariot of the sun,

he was controlled in his course; [158] like a good king, he brought

to nought the secret guiles of the foe; [159] (77) like the ocean,

his temples were cavernous with meditation; [160] like Bhagiratha,

he had often beheld the descent of Ganges; [161] like a bee, he had

often tasted life in a water-engirt wood; [162] though a woodsman,

he yet entered a great home; [163] though unrestrained, he longed

for release; [164] though intent on works of peace, he bore the

rod; [165] though asleep, he was yet awake; [166] though with two

well-placed eyes, he had his sinister eye abolished. [167] Such was

he who approached the lotus-lake to bathe.

'Now the mind of the good is ever wont to be compassionate and kind

instinctively. Wherefore he, seeing my plight, was filled with pity,

and said to another young ascetic standing near: (78) "This little

half-fledged parrot has somehow fallen from the top of that tree,

or perhaps from a hawk's mouth. For, owing to his long fall, he has

hardly any life left; his eyes are closed, and he ever falls on his

face and pants violently, and opens his beak, nor can he hold up his

neck. Come, then, take him before his breath deserts him. Carry him

to the water." So saying, he had me taken to the edge of the lake;

and, coming there, he laid down his staff and pitcher near the water,

and, taking me himself, just when I had given up all effort, he lifted

up my head, and with his finger made me drink a few drops of water;

and when I had been sprinkled with water and had gained fresh breath,

he placed me in the cool wet shade of a fresh lotus-leaf growing on

the bank, and went through the wonted rites of bathing. After that,

he purified himself by often holding his breath, and murmuring the

cleansing aghamarshana [168], and then he arose and, with upraised

face, made an offering to the sun with freshly-plucked red lotuses

in a cup of lotus-leaves. Having taken a pure white robe, so that

he was like the glow of evening sunlight accompanied by the moon's

radiance, he rubbed his hair with his hands till it shone, and, (79)

followed by the band of ascetic youths, with their hair yet wet from

recent bathing, he took me and went slowly towards the penance grove.

'And after going but a short way, I beheld the penance grove, hidden

in thick woods rich in flowers and fruit.

(80) 'Its precincts were filled by munis entering on all sides,

followed by pupils murmuring the Vedas, and bearing fuel, kuça grass,

flowers, and earth. There the sound of the filling of the pitchers

was eagerly heard by the peacocks; there appeared, as it were,

a bridge to heaven under the guise of smoke waving to exalt to the

gods the muni race while yet in the body by fires satisfied with the

ceaseless offering of ghee; all round were tanks with their waves

traversed by lines of sunbeams stainless as though from contact with

the hermits they rested upon, plunged into by the circle of the Seven

Rishis who had come to see their penance, and lifting by night an open

moon-lotus-bed, like a cluster of constellations descending to honour

the rishis; the hermitage received homage from woodland creepers with

their tops bent by the wind, and from trees with their ever-falling

blossoms, and was worshipped by trees with the añjali of interlaced

boughs; parched grain was scattered in the yards round the huts,

and the fruit of the myrobalan, lavali, jujube, banana, bread-tree,

mango, panasa, [169] and palm pressed on each other; (81) the young

Brahmans were eloquent in reciting the Vedas; the parrot-race was

garrulous with the prayer of oblation that they learnt by hearing it

incessantly; the subrahmanya [170] was recited by many a maina; the

balls of rice offered to the deities were devoured by the cocks of the

forest, and the offering of wild rice was eaten by the young kalahamsas

of the tanks close by. The eating-places of the sages were protected

from pollution by ashes cast round them. (82) The fire for the munis'

homa sacrifice was fanned by the tails of their friends the peacocks;

the sweet scent of the oblation prepared with nectar, the fragrance of

the half-cooked sacrificial cake was spread around; the crackling of

flames in the offering of a stream of unbroken libations made the place

resonant; a host of guests was waited upon; the Pitris were honoured;

Vishnu, Çiva, and Brahma were worshipped. The performance of çraddha

rites was taught; the science of sacrifice explained; the çastras

of right conduct examined; good books of every kind recited; and the

meaning of the çastras pondered. Leafy huts were being begun; courts

smeared with paste, and the inside of the huts scrubbed. Meditation

was being firmly grasped, mantras duly carried out, yoga practised,

and offerings made to woodland deities. Brahmanical girdles of

muñja grass were being made, bark garments washed, fuel brought,

deer-skins decked, grass gathered, lotus-seed dried, rosaries strung,

and bamboos laid in order for future need. [171] Wandering ascetics

received hospitality, and pitchers were filled.

(84) 'There defilement is found in the smoke of the oblations, not in

evil conduct; redness of face in parrots, not in angry men; sharpness

in blades of grass, not in dispositions; wavering in plantain-leaves,

not in minds; red eyes [172] in cuckoos alone; clasping of necks

with pitchers only; binding of girdles in vows, not in quarrels;

pakshapata [173] in cocks, not in scientific discussions; wandering

in making the sunwise turn round the soma fire, but not error in the

çastras; mention of the Vasus in legends, but not longing for wealth;

counting of beads for Rudra, but no account made of the body; loss of

locks by the saints in the practice of sacrifice, but not loss of their

children [174] by death; propitiation of Rama by reciting the Ramayana,

not of women [175] by youth; wrinkles brought on by old age, not by

pride of riches; the death of a Çakuni [176] in the Mahabharata only;

only in the Purana windy talk; [177] in old age only loss of teeth;

[178] coldness only in the park sandal-trees; [179] (85) in fires only

turning to ashes; [180] only deer love to hear song; only peacocks care

for dancing; only snakes wear hoods; [181] only monkeys desire fruit;

[182] only roots have a downward tendency.

(85-89, condensed) 'There, beneath the shade of a red açoka-tree,

beauteous with new oblations of flowers, purified with ointment of

fresh gomaya, garlanded with kuça grass and strips of bark tied on

by the hermitage maidens, I saw the holy Jabali surrounded by most

ascetic sages, like time by æons, the last day by suns, the sacrifice

by bearers of the three fires, [183] the golden mountain by the noble

hills, or the earth by the oceans.

(89) 'And as I looked on him I thought: "Ah! how great is the power of

penance! His form, calm as it is, yet pure as molten gold, overpowers,

like lightning, the brightness of the eye with its brilliance. Though

ever tranquil, it inspires fear at first approach by its inherent

majesty. The splendour of even those ascetics who have practised but

little asceticism is wont to be easily provoked, like fire swiftly

falling on dry reeds, kaça grass, or flowers. (90) How much more, then,

that of holy men like these, whose feet are honoured by the whole

world, whose stains are worn away by penance, who look with divine

insight on the whole earth as if it were a myrobalan [184] in the hand,

and who purge away all sin. For even the mention of a great sage has

its reward; much more, then, the sight of him! Happy is the hermitage

where dwells this king of Brahmans! Nay, rather, happy is the whole

world in being trodden by him who is the very Brahma of earth! Truly

these sages enjoy the reward of their good deeds in that they attend

him day and night with no other duty, hearing holy stories and ever

fixing on him their steady gaze, as if he were another Brahma. Happy

is Sarasvati, who, encircled by his shining teeth, and ever enjoying

the nearness of his lotus-mouth, dwells in his serene mind, with

its unfathomable depths and its full stream of tenderness, like a

hamsa on the Manasa lake. The four Vedas, that have long dwelt in the

four lotus-mouths of Brahma, find here their best and most fitting

home. (91) All the sciences, which became turbid in the rainy season

of the Iron Age, become pure when they reach him, as rivers coming

to autumn. Of a surety, holy Dharma, having taken up his abode here

after quelling the riot of the Iron Age, no longer cares to recall

the Golden Age. Heaven, seeing earth trodden by him, no longer takes

pride in being dwelt in by the Seven Rishis. How bold is old age,

which fears not to fall on his thick matted locks, moonbeam-pale as

they are, and hard to gaze on as the rays of the sun of doom. [185]

For it falls on him as Ganges, white with flecks of foam, on Çiva,

or as an offering of milk on Agni. Even the sun's rays keep far from

the penance-grove, as if terrified by the greatness of the saint whose

hermitage is darkened by the thick smoke of many an oblation. These

fires, too, for love of him, receive oblations purified by hymns, for

their flames are pressed together by the wind, like hands reverently

raised. (92) The wind itself approaches him timidly, just stirring the

linen and bark dresses, fragrant with the sweet creeper blossoms of the

hermitage, and gentle in motion. Yet the glorious might of the elements

is wont to be beyond our resistance! But this man towers above [186]

the mightiest! The earth shines as if with two suns, being trodden by

this noble man. In his support the world stands firm. He is the stream

of sympathy, the bridge over the ocean of transient existence, and the

home of the waters of patience; the axe for the glades of the creepers

of desire, the ocean of the nectar of content, the guide in the path

of perfection, the mountain behind which sets the planet of ill, [187]

the root of the tree of endurance, the nave of the wheel of wisdom,

the staff of the banner of righteousness, the holy place for the

descent of all knowledge, the submarine fire of the ocean of craving,

the touch-stone of the jewels of the çastras, the consuming flame of

the buds of passion, the charm against the snake of wrath, the sun

to dispel the darkness of delusion, the binder of the bolts of hell's

gates, the native home of noble deeds, the temple of propitious rites,

the forbidden ground for the degradation of passion, the sign-post

to the paths of good, the birthplace of holiness, the felly of the

wheel of effort, the abode of strength, the foe of the Iron Age, the

treasury of penance, the friend of truth, the native soil of sincerity,

the source of the heaping up of merit, the closed gate for envy, the

foe of calamity. (93) Truly he is one in whom disrespect can find no

place; for he is averse from pride, unclaimed by meanness, unenslaved

by wrath, and unattracted by pleasure. Purely by the grace of this

holy man the hermitage is free from envy and calm from enmity. Great

is the power of a noble soul. Here, ceasing their constant feud, the

very animals are quiet, and learn the joy of a hermitage life. For

here a snake, wearied by the sun, fearlessly enters, as if into

fresh grass, into the peacock's tail, like an interwoven grove

of open lotuses, with its hundred beauteous eyes, changing in hue

as the eyes of a deer. Here a young antelope, leaving his mother,

makes friends with the lion-cubs whose manes are not yet grown, and

drinks at the bounteous breast of the lioness. Here a lion closes his

eyes, and is pleased to have his moon-white mane pulled by the young

elephants that mistake it for lotus-fibres. Here the monkey-tribe loses

its capriciousness and brings fruit to the young munis after their

bath. There the elephants, too, though excited, are tender-hearted,

and do not drive away by their flapping the bees that dwell round their

frontal bones, and stay motionless to drink their ichor. (94) But what

need of more? There even the senseless trees, with roots and fruits,

clad in bark, and adorned with outer garments of black antelope skin

perpetually made for them by the upward creeping lines of sacrificial

smoke, seem like fellow ascetics of this holy man. How much more,

then, living beings, endowed with sense!"

'And while I was thus thinking, Harita placed me somewhere in the shade

of the açoka tree, and embracing his father's feet and saluting him,

sat down not far from him on a seat of kuça grass.

'But the hermits, looking on me, asked him as he rested: "Whence was

this little parrot brought?" "When I went hence to bathe," replied he,

"I found this little parrot fallen from its nest in a tree on the

bank of the lotus-lake, faint with the heat, lying in hot dust, and

shaken by the fall, with little life left in him. And as I could not

replace him in his nest (for that tree was too hard for an ascetic

to climb), I brought him hither in pity. So, while his wings are not

grown, and he cannot fly into the sky, let him live in the hollow of

some hermitage tree, (95) fed on the juice of fruits and on handfuls

of rice brought to him by us and by the young hermits. For it is the

law of our order to protect the weak. But when his wings are grown,

and he can fly into the sky, he shall go where he likes. Or perhaps,

when he knows us well, he will stay here." The holy Jabali, hearing

this and other remarks about me, with some curiosity bent his head

slightly, and, with a very calm glance that seemed to purify me with

holy waters, he gazed long upon me, and then, looking again and again

as if he were beginning to recognise me, said: "He is reaping the fruit

of his own ill-conduct." For by the potency of penance the saint with

divine insight beholds the past, present, and future, and sees the

whole world as though placed on the palm of his hand. He knows past

births. He tells things yet to come. He declares the length of days

of beings within his sight.

'At these words the whole assemblage of hermits, aware of his power,

became curious to know what was my crime, and why committed, and where,

and who I was in a former birth; and implored the saint, saying: (96)

"Vouchsafe, sir, to tell us of what kind of misconduct he is reaping

the fruits. Who was he in a former birth, and how was he born in

the form of a bird? How is he named? Do thou satisfy our curiosity,

for thou art the fountain-head of all marvels."

'Thus urged by the assemblage, the great saint replied: "The story of

this wonder is very long, the day is almost spent, our bathing-time

is near, while the hour for worshipping the gods is passing. Arise,

therefore; let each perform his duties as is meet. In the afternoon,

after your meal of roots and fruits, when you are resting quietly,

I will tell you the whole story from beginning to end--who he is, what

he did in another birth, and how he was born in this world. Meanwhile,

let him be refreshed with food. He will certainly recall, as it

were, the vision of a dream when I tell the whole story of his former

birth." So saying, he arose, and with the hermits bathed and performed

their other daily duties.

(97) 'The day was now drawing to a close. When the hermits rose

from their bathing, and were offering a sacrifice, the sun in the

sky seemed to bear upwards before our eyes the offering cast on the

ground, with its unguent of red sandal-wood. Then his glow faded and

vanished; the effluence of his glory was drunk by the Ushmapas [188]

with faces raised and eyes fixed on his orb, as if they were ascetics;

and he glided from the sky pink as a dove's foot, drawing in his rays

as though to avoid touching the Seven Rishis as they rose. His orb,

with its network of crimson rays reflected on the Western Ocean,

was like the lotus of Vishnu on his couch of waters pouring forth

nectar; his beams, forsaking the sky and deserting the lotus-groves,

lingered at eve like birds on the crest of hill and tree; the splashes

of crimson light seemed for a moment to deck the trees with the red

bark garments hung up by the ascetics. And when the thousand-rayed sun

had gone to rest, twilight sprang up like rosy coral from the Western

Ocean. (98) Then the hermitage became the home of quiet thought, as

the pleasant sound of milking the sacred cows arose in one quarter,

and the fresh kuça grass was scattered on the altar of Agni, and the

rice and oblations to the goddesses of space were tossed hither and

thither by the hermitage maidens. And red-starred eve seemed to the

hermits as the red-eyed cow of the hermitage roaming about, tawny

in the fall of day. And when the sun had vanished, the lotus-bed,

in the grief of bereavement, seemed to perform a vow in the hopes of

rejoining the lord of day, for she lifted the goblets of her buds,

and wore the fine white vesture of her hamsas, and was girt with the

sacrificial thread of white filaments, and bore a circle of bees as

her rosary. And the starry host leapt up and filled the sky, like a

splash of spray when the sun fell into the Western Ocean; and for a

brief space the star-bespangled sky shone as though inlaid with flowers

offered by the daughters of the Siddhas [189] in honour of twilight;

but in a moment the whole glory of the gloaming vanished as though

washed away by the libations which the hermits, with faces upraised,

cast towards the sky; (99) and at its departure, night, as sorrowing

for its loss, wore a deeper darkness, like a black antelope's skin--a

blackness which darkened all save the hearts of the hermits.

'Learning that the sun had gone to rest, the lord of rays ambrosial, in

pure severity of light, arrayed in the whiteness of clear gossamer,

dwelling in the palace of his wives with Tara, [190] mounted the

sky which, in that it was outlined with the darkness of tamala-trees,

presided over by the circle of Seven Rishis, purified by the wanderings

of Arundhati, [191] surrounded by Ashadha, [192] showing its Mula

[193] with its soft-eyed white deer, [194] was a very hermitage of

heaven. White as a hamsa, moonlight fell on the earth, filling the

seas; falling, as Ganges from the head of Çiva, from the sky which

was decked with the moon, and inlaid with the shattered potsherds

of the stars. (100) And in the moon-lake, white as an opening lotus,

was seen the motionless deer, which went down in eagerness to drink

the water of the moonbeams, and was caught, as it were, in the mud

of ambrosia. The lakes of the night-lotus were fondly visited by

the moonbeams, like hamsas, falling on the ocean white as sinduvara

flowers in their fresh purity after the rains. At that moment the

globe of the moon lost all the glow of its rising, like the frontal

bone of the elephant Airavata when its red lead is washed away by

plunging into the heavenly stream; and his highness the cold-shedder

had gradually risen high in the sky, and by his light had whitened

the earth as with lime-dust; the breezes of early night were blowing,

slackened in their course by the cold dew, aromatic with the scent

of opening moon-lotuses, (101) and gladly welcomed by the deer, who,

with eyes weighed down by the approach of sleep, and eyelashes clinging

together, were beginning to ruminate and rest in quiet.

'Only half a watch of the night was spent, when Harita took me after

my meal and went with the other holy hermits to his father, who,

in a moonlit spot of the hermitage, was sitting on a bamboo stool,

gently fanned by a pupil named Jalapada, who held a fan of antelope

skin white as dharba grass, and he spake, saying: "Father, the whole

assemblage of hermits is in a circle round thee, with hearts eager

to hear this wonder; the little bird, too, has rested. Tell us,

therefore, what he has done, who was he, and who will he be in

another birth?" Thus addressed, the great saint, looking at me,

and seeing the hermits before him intently listening, slowly spake:

"Let the tale be told, if ye care to hear it.