Janmaprabhriti daridryam dashavarshani bandhanam
Samudratire marenam kinchit bhogam bhavishyati.
Thus a Soothsayer when on his death-bed wrote the horoscope of his
second son, and bequeathed it to him as his only property, leaving
the whole of his estate to his eldest son. The second son pondered
over the horoscope, and fell into the following reflections:--
"Alas, am I born to this only in the world? The sayings of my father
never failed. I have seen them prove true to the last word while
he was living; and how has he fixed my horoscope! Janma parabhriti
daridryam! From my birth poverty! Nor is that my only fate. Dasa
varshani bandhanam: for ten years, imprisonment--a fate harder
than poverty; and what comes next? Samudratire maranam: death on the
sea-shore; which means that I must die away from home, far from friends
and relatives on a sea-coast. The misery has reached its extreme height
here. Now comes the funniest part of the horoscope, Kinchit bhogam
bhavishyati--that I am to have some happiness afterwards! What this
happiness is, is an enigma to me: To die first, to be happy for some
time after! What happiness? Is it the happiness of this world? So it
must be. For however clever one may be, he cannot foretell what may
take place in the other world. Therefore it must be the happiness
of this world; and how can that be possible after my death? It is
impossible. I think my father has only meant this as a consoling
conclusion to the series of calamities that he has prophesied. Three
portions of his prophecy must prove true; the fourth and last is a
mere comforting statement to bear patiently the calamities enumerated,
and never to prove true. Therefore let me go to Banaras, bathe in
the holy Ganga, wash away my sins, and prepare myself for my end. Let
me avoid sea-coasts, lest death meet me there in accordance with my
father's words. Come imprisonment: I am prepared for it for ten years."
Thus thought he, and after all the funeral obsequies of his father were
over, took leave of his elder brother, and started for Banaras. [4]
He went by the middle of the Dakhan, [5] avoiding both the coasts,
and went on journeying and journeying for weeks and months, till at
last he reached the Vindhya mountains. While passing that desert he had
to journey for a couple of days through a sandy plain, with no signs
of life or vegetation. The little store of provision with which he
was provided for a couple of days, at last was exhausted. The chombu,
[6] which he carried always full, replenishing it with the sweet water
from the flowing rivulet or plenteous tank, he had exhausted in the
heat of the desert. There was not a morsel in his hand to eat; nor
a drop of water to drink. Turn his eyes wherever he might he found a
vast desert, out of which he saw no means of escape. Still he thought
within himself, "Surely my father's prophecy never proved untrue. I
must survive this calamity to find my death on some sea-coast." So
thought he, and this thought gave him strength of mind to walk fast
and try to find a drop of water somewhere to slake his dry throat. At
last he succeeded, or rather thought that he succeeded. Heaven threw
in his way a ruined well. He thought that he could collect some water
if he let down his chombu with the string that he always carried
noosed to the neck of it. Accordingly he let it down; it went some
way and stopped, and the following words came from the well, "Oh,
relieve me! I am the king of tigers, dying here of hunger. For the
last three days I have had nothing. Fortune has sent you here. If you
assist me now you will find a sure help in me throughout your life. Do
not think that I am a beast of prey. When you have become my deliverer
I can never touch you. Pray, kindly lift me up." Gangadhara, for that
was the name of the Soothsayer's second son, found himself in a very
perplexing position. "Shall I take him out or not? If I take him out
he may make me the first morsel of his hungry mouth. No; that he will
not do. For my father's prophecy never came untrue. I must die on a
sea-coast and not by a tiger." Thus thinking, he asked the tiger king
to hold tight to the vessel, which he accordingly did, and he lifted
him up slowly. The tiger reached the top of the well and felt himself
on safe ground. True to his word he did no harm to Gangadhara. On
the other hand, he walked round his patron three times, and standing
before him, humbly spoke the following words:--"My life-giver, my
benefactor! I shall never forget this day, when I regained my life
through your kind hands. In return for this kind assistance I pledge
my oath to stand by you in all calamities. Whenever you are in any
difficulty just think of me. I am there with you ready to oblige
you by all the means that I can. To tell you briefly how I came in
here:--Three days ago I was roaming in yonder forest, when I saw a
goldsmith passing through it. I chased him. He, finding it impossible
to escape my claws, jumped into this well, and is living to this
moment in the very bottom of it. I also jumped in, but found myself
in the first storey; [7] he is on the last and fourth storey. In the
second storey lives a serpent half-famished with hunger. In the third
storey lies a rat, similarly half-famished, and when you again begin
to draw water these may request you first to release them. In the same
way the goldsmith also may request. I tell you, as your bosom friend,
never assist that wretched man, though he is your relation as a human
being. Goldsmiths are never to be trusted. You can place more faith
in me, a tiger, though I feast sometimes upon men, in a serpent whose
sting makes your blood cold the very next moment, or in a rat, which
does a thousand pieces of mischief in your house. But never trust a
goldsmith. Do not release him; and if you do, you shall surely repent
of it one day or other." Thus advising, the hungry tiger went away
without waiting for an answer.
Gangadhara thought several times of the eloquent way in which the tiger
addressed him, and admired his fluency of speech. His thirst was not
quenched. So he let down his vessel again, which was now caught hold
of by the serpent, who addressed him thus:--"Oh my protector! Lift me
up. I am the king of serpents, and the son of Adisesha, [8] who is now
pining away in agony for my disappearance. Release me now. I shall ever
remain your servant, remember your assistance, and help you throughout
life in all possible ways. Oblige me: I am dying." Gangadhara, calling
again to mind the Samudratire maranam--death on the sea-shore--lifted
him up. He, like the tiger-king, walked round him thrice, and
prostrating himself before him spoke thus:--"Oh, my life-giver, my
father, for so I must call you, as you have given me another birth. I
have already told you that I am Adisesha's son, and that I am the king
of serpents. I was three days ago basking myself in the morning sun,
when I saw a rat running before me. I chased him. He fell into this
well. I followed him, but instead of falling on the third storey
where he is now lying, I fell into the second. It was on the same
evening that the goldsmith also fell down into the fourth storey,
and the tiger whom you released just before me fell down into the
first. What I have to tell you now is--do not relieve the goldsmith,
though you may release the rat. As a rule, goldsmiths are never to
be trusted. I am going away now to see my father. Whenever you are
in any difficulty just think of me. I will be there by your side to
assist you by all possible means. If, notwithstanding my repeated
advice, you happen to release the goldsmith, you shall suffer for
it severely." So saying, the Nagaraja (serpent-king) glided away in
zigzag movements, and was out of sight in a moment.
The poor son of the Soothsayer who was now almost dying of thirst,
and was even led to think that the messengers of death were near
him, notwithstanding his firm belief in the words of his father
let down his vessel for a third time. The rat caught hold of it,
and without discussing, he lifted up the poor animal at once. But
it would not go away without showing its gratitude--"Oh life of my
life! My benefactor! I am the king of rats. Whenever you are in any
calamity just think of me. I will come to you, and assist you. My
keen ears overheard all that the tiger-king and serpent-king told
you about the Svarnataskara [9] (gold-smith), who is in the fourth
storey. It is nothing but a sad truth that goldsmiths ought never
to be trusted. Therefore never assist him as you have done to us
all. And if you do, you shall feel it. I am hungry; let me go for the
present." Thus taking leave of his benefactor, the rat, too, ran away.
Gangadhara for a while thought upon the repeated advice given by the
three animals about releasing the goldsmith, "What wrong would there be
in my assisting him? Why should I not release him also?" So thinking
to himself, Gangadhara let down the vessel again. The goldsmith
caught hold of it, and demanded help. The Soothsayer's son had no
time to lose; he was himself dying of thirst. Therefore he lifted
the goldsmith up, who now began his story:--"Stop for a while,"
said Gangadhara, and after quenching his thirst by letting down his
vessel for the fifth time, still fearing that some one might remain
in the well and demand his assistance, he listened to the goldsmith,
who began as follows:--"My dear friend, my protector, what a deal of
nonsense these brutes have been talking to you about me; I am glad you
have not followed their advice. I am just now dying of hunger. Permit
me to go away. My name is Manikkasari. I live in the East main street
of Ujjaini which is twenty kas [10] to the south of this place, and so
lies on your way when you return from Banaras. Do not forget to come
to me and receive my kind remembrances of your assistance, on your
way back to your country." So saying the goldsmith took his leave,
and Gangadhara also pursued his way north after the above adventures.
He reached Banaras, and lived there for more than ten years, spending
his time in bathing, prayers, and other religious ceremonies. He
quite forgot the tiger, serpent, rat, and goldsmith. After ten years
of religious life, thoughts of home and of his brother rushed into his
mind. "I have secured enough merit now by my religious observances. Let
me return home." Thus thought Gangadhara within himself, and
immediately he was on his way back to his country. Remembering the
prophecy of his father he returned by the same way by which he went to
Banaras ten years before. While thus retracing his steps he reached
the ruined well where he had released the three brute kings and the
goldsmith. At once the old recollections rushed into his mind, and he
thought of the tiger to test his fidelity. Only a moment passed, and
the tiger-king came running before him carrying a large crown in his
mouth, the glitter of the diamonds of which for a time outshone even
the bright rays of the sun. He dropped the crown at his life-giver's
feet, and putting aside all his pride, humbled himself like a pet cat
to the strokes of his protector, and began in the following words:--"My
life-giver! How is it that you have forgotten me, your poor servant,
for such a long time? I am glad to find that I still occupy a corner
in your mind. I can never forget the day when I owed my life to your
lotus hands. I have several jewels with me of little value. This crown,
being the best of all, I have brought here as a single ornament of
great value, and hence easily portable and useful to you in your own
country." Gangadhara looked at the crown, examined it over and over,
counted and recounted the gems, and thought within himself that he
would become the richest of men by separating the diamonds and gold,
and selling them in his own country. He took leave of the tiger-king,
and after his disappearance thought of the kings of serpents and rats,
who came in their turns with their presents, and after the usual
formalities and exchange of words took their leave. Gangadhara was
extremely delighted at the faithfulness with which the brute beasts
behaved themselves, and went on his way to the south. While going along
he spoke to himself thus:--"These beasts have been so very faithful in
their assistance. Much more, therefore, must Manikkasari be faithful. I
do not want anything from him now. If I take this crown with me as
it is, it occupies much space in my bundle. It may also excite the
curiosity of some robbers on the way. I will go now to Ujjaini on my
way, Manikkasari requested me to see him without failure on my return
journey. I shall do so, and request him to have the crown melted,
the diamonds and gold separated. He must do that kindness at least
for me. I shall then roll up these diamonds and gold ball in my rags,
and bend my way homewards." Thus thinking and thinking he reached
Ujjaini. At once he enquired for the house of his goldsmith friend,
and found him without difficulty. Manikkasari was extremely delighted
to find on his threshold him who ten years before, notwithstanding
the advice repeatedly given him by the sage-looking tiger, serpent,
and rat, had relieved him from the pit of death. Gangadhara at once
showed him the crown that he received from the tiger-king, told him
how he got it, and requested his kind assistance to separate the
gold and diamonds. Manikkasari agreed to do so, and meanwhile asked
his friend to rest himself for a while to have his bath and meals;
and Gangadhara, who was very observant of his religious ceremonies,
went direct to the river to bathe.
How came a crown in the jaws of a tiger? It is not a difficult
question to solve. A king must have furnished the table of the tiger
for a day or two. Had it not been for that, the tiger could not have
had a crown with him. Even so it was. The king of Ujjaini had a week
before gone with all his hunters on a hunting expedition. All of a
sudden a tiger--as we know now, the very tiger-king himself--started
from the wood, seized the king, and vanished. The hunters returned
and informed the prince about the sad calamity that had befallen his
father. They all saw the tiger carrying away the king. Yet such was
their courage that they could not lift their weapons to bring to the
prince the corpse at least of his father.
When they informed the prince about the death of his father he
wept and wailed, and gave notice that he would give half of his
kingdom to any one who should bring him news about the murderer of
his father. The prince did not at all believe that his father was
devoured by the tiger. His belief was that some hunters, coveting
the ornaments on the king's person, had murdered him. Hence he had
issued the notice. The goldsmith knew full well that it was a tiger
that killed the king, and not any hunter's hands, since he had heard
from Gangadhara about how he obtained the crown. Still, ambition
to get half the kingdom prevailed, and he resolved with himself to
make over Gangadhara as the king's murderer. The crown was lying
on the floor where Gangadhara left it with his full confidence in
Manikkasari. Before his protector's return the goldsmith, hiding
the crown under his garments, flew to the palace. He went before the
prince and informed him that the assassin was caught, and placed the
crown before him. The prince took it into his hands, examined it,
and at once gave half the kingdom to Manikkasari, and then enquired
about the murderer. "He is bathing in the river, and is of such and
such appearance," was the reply. At once four armed soldiers fly to
the river, and bound the poor Brahman hand and foot, he sitting in
meditation the while, without any knowledge of the fate that hung
over him. They brought Gangadhara to the presence of the prince,
who turned his face away from the murderer or supposed murderer,
and asked his soldiers to throw him into the karagriham. [11] In a
minute, without knowing the cause, the poor Brahman found himself in
the dark caves of the karagriham.
In old times the karagriham answered the purposes of the modern
jail. It was a dark cellar underground, built with strong stone walls,
into which any criminal guilty of a capital offence was ushered to
breathe his last there without food and drink. Such was the cellar
into which Gangadhara was thrust. In a few hours after he left the
goldsmith he found himself inside a dark cell stinking with human
bodies, dying and dead. What were his thoughts when he reached that
place? "It is the goldsmith that has brought me to this wretched
state; and, as for the prince: Why should he not enquire as to how I
obtained the crown? It is of no use to accuse either the goldsmith
or the prince now. We are all the children of fate. We must obey
her commands. Dasavarshani Bandhanam. This is but the first day of
my father's prophecy. So far his statement is true. But how am I
going to pass ten years here? Perhaps without anything to sustain
life I may drag on my existence for a day or two. But how pass ten
years? That cannot be, and I must die. Before death comes let me
think of my faithful brute friends."
So pondered Gangadhara in the dark cell underground, and at that
moment thought of his three friends. The tiger-king, serpent-king,
and rat-king assembled at once with their armies at a garden near
the karagriham, and for a while did not know what to do. A common
cause--how to reach their protector, who was now in the dark cell
underneath--united them all. They held their council, and decided to
make an underground passage from the inside of a ruined well to the
karagriham. The rat raja issued an order at once to that effect to
his army. They, with their nimble teeth, bored the ground a long way
to the walls of the prison. After reaching it they found that their
teeth could not work on the hard stones. The bandicoots were then
specially ordered for the business; they, with their hard teeth,
made a small slit in the wall for a rat to pass and repass without
difficulty. Thus a passage was effected.
The rat raja entered first to condole with his protector on his
misfortune. The king of the tigers sent word through the snake-king
that he sympathised most sincerely with his sorrow, and that he was
ready to render all help for his deliverance. He suggested a means
for his escape also. The serpent raja went in, and gave Gangadhara
hopes of delivery. The rat-king undertook to supply his protector
with provisions. "Whatever sweetmeats or bread are prepared in any
house, one and all of you must try to bring whatever you can to our
benefactor. Whatever clothes you find hanging in a house, cut down, dip
the pieces in water, and bring the wet bits to our benefactor. He will
squeeze them and gather water for drink! and the bread and sweetmeats
shall form his food." Having issued these orders the king of the rats,
took leave of Gangadhara. They, in obedience to their king's order,
continued to supply provisions and water.
The Nagaraja said:--"I sincerely condole with you in your calamity;
the tiger-king also fully sympathises with you, and wants me to tell
you so, as he cannot drag his huge body here as we have done with our
small ones. The king of the rats has promised to do his best to provide
you with food. We would now do what we can for your release. From this
day we shall issue orders to our armies to oppress all the subjects
of this kingdom. The percentage of death by snake-bite and tigers
shall increase from this day. And day by day it shall continue to
increase till your release. After eating what the rats bring you, you
had better take your seat near the entrance of the karagriham. Owing
to the many sudden deaths that will occur some people that walk over
the prison may say, 'How wicked the king has become. Were it not for
his wickedness so many dreadful deaths by snake-bites could never
occur.' Whenever you hear people speaking so, you had better bawl out
so as to be heard by them, 'The wretched prince imprisoned me on the
false charge of having killed his father, while it was a tiger that
killed him. From that day these calamities have broken out in his
dominions. If I were released I would save all by my powers of healing
poisonous wounds and by incantations.' Some one may report this to
the king, and if he knows it, you will obtain your liberty." Thus
comforting his protector in trouble, he advised him to pluck up
courage, and took leave of him. From that day tigers and serpents,
acting under the special orders of their kings, united in killing as
many persons and cattle as possible. Every day people were carried
away by tigers or bitten by serpents. This havoc continued. Gangadhara
went on roaring as loud he could that he would save those lives, had
he only his liberty. Few heard him. The few that did took his words
for the voice of a ghost. "How could he manage to live without food
and drink for so long a time?" said the persons walking over his head
to each other. Thus passed months and years. Gangadhara sat in the
dark cellar, without the sun's light falling upon him, and feasted
upon the bread-crumbs and sweetmeats that the rats so kindly supplied
him with. These circumstances had completely changed his body. He
had become a red, stout, huge, unwieldy lump of flesh. Thus passed
full ten years, as prophesied in the horoscope--Dasavarshani Bandhanam.
Ten complete years rolled away in close imprisonment. On the last
evening of the tenth year one of the serpents got into the bed-chamber
of the princess and sucked her life. She breathed her last. She was the
only daughter of the king. He had no other issue--son or daughter. His
only hope was in her; and she was snatched away by a cruel and untimely
death. The king at once sent for all the snake-bite curers. He promised
half his kingdom and his daughter's hand to him who would restore her
to life. Now it was that a servant of the king, who had several times
overheard Gangadhara's cries, reported the matter to him. The king
at once ordered the cell to be examined. There was the man sitting in
it. How has he managed to live so long in the cell? Some whispered that
he must be a divine being. Some concluded that he must surely win the
hand of the princess by restoring her to life. Thus they discussed,
and the discussions brought Gangadhara to the king.
The king no sooner saw Gangadhara than he fell on the ground. He
was struck by the majesty and grandeur of his person. His ten years'
imprisonment in the deep cell underground had given a sort of lustre
to his body, which was not to be met with in ordinary persons. His
hair had first to be cut before his face could be seen. The king
begged forgiveness for his former fault, and requested him to revive
his daughter.
"Bring me in a muhurta [12] all the corpses of men and cattle,
dying and dead, that remain unburnt or unburied within the range of
your dominions; I shall revive them all," were the only words that
Gangadhara spoke. After it he closed his lips as if in deep meditation,
which commanded more respect than ever.
Cart-loads of corpses of men and cattle began to come in every
minute. Even graves, it is said, were broken open, and corpses buried a
day or two before were taken out and sent for the revival. As soon as
all were ready, Gangadhara took a vessel full of water and sprinkled
it over them all, thinking only of his Nagaraja and Vyaghraraja. [13]
All rose up as if from deep slumber, and went to their respective
homes. The princess, too, was restored to life. The joy of the king
knew no bounds. He cursed the day on which he imprisoned him, blamed
himself for having believed the word of a goldsmith, and offered him
the hand of his daughter and the whole kingdom, instead of half as he
promised. Gangadhara would not accept anything. The king requested
him to put a stop for ever to these calamities. He agreed to do so,
and asked the king to assemble all his subjects in a wood near the
town. "I shall there call in all the tigers and serpents and give them
a general order." So said Gangadhara, and the king accordingly gave
the order. In a couple of ghatikas [14] the wood near Ujjaini was
full of people, who assembled to witness the authority of man over
such enemies of human beings as tigers and serpents. "He is no man;
be sure of that. How could he have managed to live for ten years
without food and drink? He is surely a god." Thus speculated the mob.
When the whole town was assembled, just at the dusk of evening,
Gangadhara sat dumb for a moment, and thought upon the Vyaghraraja
and Nagaraja, who came running with all their armies. People began
to take to their heels at the sight of tigers. Gangadhara assured
them of safety, and stopped them.
The grey light of the evening, the pumpkin colour of Gangadhara, the
holy ashes scattered lavishly over his body, the tigers and snakes
humbling themselves at his feet, gave him the true majesty of the god
Gangadhara. [15] For who else by a single word could thus command vast
armies of tigers and serpents, said some among the people. "Care not
for it; it may be by magic. That is not a great thing. That he revived
cart-loads of corpses makes him surely Gangadhara," said others. The
scene produced a very great effect upon the minds of the mob.
"Why should you, my children, thus trouble these poor subjects of
Ujjaini? Reply to me, and henceforth desist from your ravages." Thus
said the Soothsayer's son, and the following reply came from the
king of the tigers; "Why should this base king imprison your honour,
believing the mere word of a goldsmith that your honour killed his
father? All the hunters told him that his father was carried away by
a tiger. I was the messenger of death sent to deal the blow on his
neck. I did it, and gave the crown to your honour. The prince makes no
enquiry, and at once imprisons your honour. How can we expect justice
from such a stupid king as that? Unless he adopts a better standard
of justice we will go on with our destruction."
The king heard, cursed the day on which he believed in the word of
a goldsmith, beat his head, tore his hair, wept and wailed for his
crime, asked a thousand pardons, and swore to rule in a just way from
that day. The serpent-king and tiger-king also promised to observe
their oath as long as justice prevailed, and took their leave. The
goldsmith fled for his life. He was caught by the soldiers of the
king, and was pardoned by the generous Gangadhara, whose voice now
reigned supreme. All returned to their homes.
The king again pressed Gangadhara to accept the hand of his
daughter. He agreed to do so, not then, but some time afterwards. He
wished to go and see his elder brother first, and then to return and
marry the princess. The king agreed; and Gangadhara left the city
that very day on his way home.
It so happened that unwittingly he took a wrong road, and had to pass
near a sea coast. His elder brother was also on his way up to Banaras
by that very same route. They met and recognised each other, even at
a distance. They flew into each other's arms. Both remained still for
a time almost unconscious with joy. The emotion of pleasure (ananda)
was so great, especially in Gangadhara, that it proved dangerous to
his life. In a word, he died of joy.
The sorrow of the elder brother could better be imagined than
described. He saw again his lost brother, after having given up,
as it were, all hopes of meeting him. He had not even asked him his
adventures. That he should be snatched away by the cruel hand of
death seemed unbearable to him. He wept and wailed, took the corpse
on his lap, sat under a tree, and wetted it with tears. But there
was no hope of his dead brother coming to life again.
The elder brother was a devout worshipper of Ganapati. [16] That was
a Friday, a day very sacred to that god. The elder brother took the
corpse to the nearest Ganesa [17] temple and called upon him. The
god came, and asked him what he wanted. "My poor brother is dead and
gone; and this is his corpse. Kindly keep it in your charge till I
finish worshipping you. If I leave it anywhere else the devils may
snatch it away when I am absent worshipping you; after finishing
your puja [18] I shall burn him." Thus said the elder brother, and,
giving the corpse to the god Ganesa, he went to prepare himself for
that deity's ceremonials. Ganesa made over the corpse to his Ganas,
[19] asking them to watch over it carefully.
So a spoiled child receives a fruit from its father, who, when he gives
it the fruit asks the child to keep it safe. The child thinks within
itself, "My father will forgive me if I eat a portion of it." So
saying it eats a portion, and when it finds it so sweet, it eats
the whole, saying, "Come what will, what can father do, after all,
if I eat it? Perhaps give me a stroke or two on the back. Perhaps he
may forgive me." In the same way these Ganas of Ganapati first ate
a portion of the corpse, and when they found it sweet, for we know
it was crammed up with the sweetmeats of the kind rats, devoured the
whole, and began consulting about the best excuse possible to offer
to their master.
The elder brother, after finishing the puja, demanded his brother's
corpse of the god. The god called his Ganas who came to the front
blinking, and fearing the anger of their master. The god was greatly
enraged. The elder brother was very angry. When the corpse was not
forthcoming he cuttingly remarked, "Is this, after all, the return
for my deep belief in you? You are unable even to return my brother's
corpse." Ganesa was much ashamed at the remark, and at the uneasiness
that he had caused to his worshipper. So he, by his divine power,
gave him a living Gangadhara instead of the dead corpse. Thus was
the second son of the Soothsayer restored to life.
The brothers had a long talk about each other's adventures. They
both went to Ujjaini, where Gangadhara married the princess, and
succeeded to the throne of that kingdom. He reigned for a long time,
conferring several benefits upon his brother. How is the horoscope to
be interpreted? A special synod of Soothsayers was held. A thousand
emendations were suggested. Gangadhara would not accept them. At
last one Soothsayer cut the knot by stopping at a different place
in reading, "Samudra tire maranam kinchit." "On the sea-shore death
for some time. Then "Bhogam bhavishyati." "There shall be happiness
for the person concerned." Thus the passage was interpreted. "Yes;
my father's words never went wrong," said Gangadhara. The three brute
kings continued their visits often to the Soothsayer's son, the then
king of Ujjaini. Even the faithless goldsmith became a frequent visitor
at the palace, and a receiver of several benefits from royal hands.