Once upon a time in the town of Vanjaimanagar, [20] there ruled a
king, named Sivachar. He was a most just king, and ruled so well that
no stone thrown up fell down, no crow pecked at the new drawn milk,
the lion and the bull drank water from the same pond, and peace and
prosperity reigned throughout the kingdom. Notwithstanding all these
blessings, care always sat on his face. The fruit which makes life in
this world sweet, the redeemer to him from the horrible Naraka of Put,
[21] a Putra, [22] he had not. His days and nights he spent in praying
that God might bless him with a son. Wherever he saw pipal trees
(Asvattharajas), [23] he ordered Brahmans to surround them. Whatever
medicines the doctors recommended he was ever ready to swallow,
however bitter they might be. "Eat even dung to get a son," says the
proverb, and accordingly he did every thing to secure that happiness,
but all in vain.
Sivachar had a minister, named Kharavadana, a most wicked tyrant as
ever lived in the world. The thought that the king was without an
heir, and had no hopes of one, awakened in his mind the ambition
of securing for his family the throne of Vanjaimanagar. Sivachar
knew this well. But what could he do. His only care was to send up
additional prayers to frustrate the thoughts of Kharavadana, and to
secure for himself a good position after death, without undergoing
the severe torments of the Put-hell.
At last fortune favoured Sivachar; for what religious man fails to
secure his desire? The king in his sixtieth year had a son. His joy
can better be imagined than described. Lacs (Lakhs) of Brahmans
were fed in honour of the son-birth festival, Putrotsavam, as it
is technically called. The state prisons were opened, and all the
prisoners let loose. Thousands of kine and innumerable acres of
land were offered to Brahmans, and every kind of charity was duly
practised. The ten days of the Sutikagrihavasa (confinement) were
over. On the eleventh day the father saw his much longed-for son's
face, and read on the lines of it great prosperity, learning, valour,
goodness and every excellent quality.
The cradle-swinging, naming, and other ceremonies were duly performed,
and the prince grew up under the great care generally shown to a king's
son. His name the elders fixed as Sundara. [24] The minister whose
only wish was to get the throne for his family, was much disappointed
at the birth of a son to his master. The whole kingdom rejoiced at
the event, and the minister was the only man who was sorry. When one
is disappointed in his high hopes and expectations, he devises plans
to take away the barrier that lies in his way. Even so, Kharavadana
said to himself, "Let me see how affairs progress. The old king is
near his grave. When he dies, leaving a son in his minority I myself
must be his regent for a time. Shall I not then have opportunity
enough of securing for ever for myself and my family the throne of
Vanjaimanagar?" So thought he within himself, and was quiet for a time.
Sivachar, who was a very shrewd man, on several occasions, read the
minister's mind, and knew very well how his intentions stood. "This
cruel devil may murder my only son. I care not if he usurps the
throne. What I fear is, that he may murder him. Na daivam Sankarat
param. No other god but Sankara. And he must have his own way. If it
is so written on the prince's head I cannot avoid it." Thus sighed
Sivachar, and this sorrow (soka), made him leaner day by day. Just
ten years after the birth of Sundara, the king fell ill and lay on
his deathbed.
Sivachar had a servant, named Ranavirasing, whom he had all along
observed to be very honest and faithful. That servant the king called
to his side, and asking all others except Sundara, who was weeping
by his father's pillow, to leave the room, addressed him thus:--"My
dear Ranavirasing! I have only a few ghatikas before me. Listen to my
words, and act accordingly. There is one God above us all, who will
punish or reward us according to our bad or good acts. If by avarice
or greed of money you ever play false to the trust that I am going to
repose in you that God will surely punish you. It is not unknown to
you what great difficulties I had in getting this only son, Sundara;
how many temples I built, how many Brahmans I fed, how many religious
austerities I underwent, &c., &c.. God after all gave me a son." Here
his sorrow prevented him from proceeding further, and he began to cry
aloud, and shed tears. "Do not weep on my account, father. We cannot
wipe off what was written on our heads. We must undergo happiness or
misery as is thereon written by Brahma, cried the prince. Ranavirasing
was melted at the sight. He took the boy on his lap, and with his
own upper garment wiped his eyes. The old man continued, "Thus you,
my faithful Ranavirasing, know everything. I now wish that I had
not performed all that I did to get this son. For when I die at this
moment, who is there to take care of him for the next? Kharavadana may
devise plan after plan to remove my boy from this world, and secure
the kingdom for himself. My only hope is in you. I give him into your
hands." Here the aged father, notwithstanding his illness, rose up a
little from his bed, took hold of his son's hand, and after kissing
it for the last time, placed it in Ranavirasing's. "Care not if he
does not get the kingdom. If you only preserve him from the wicked
hands of the minister whom I have all along seen to be covetous of
the throne, you will do a great work for your old master. I make you
from this moment the lord of my palace. From this minute you are
father, mother, brother, servant, and everything to my son. Take
care that you do not betray your trust." Thus ended the king, and
sent at once for the minister. When he came he spoke to him thus,
"Kharavadana! See what I am now. Yesterday I was on the throne. To-day,
in a few minutes, I must breathe my last. Such is the uncertainty of
life. Man's good acts alone follow him to the other world. Take my
signet-ring. [Here the king took the ring from off his finger, and gave
it to the minister.] Yours is the throne for the present, as long as
the prince is in his minority. Govern well the kingdom. When the prince
attains his sixteenth year kindly give him back the throne. Exercise
a paternal care over him. Find a good and intelligent princess for
his wife." Suddenly, before his speech was quite finished, the king
felt the last pangs of death. The sage-looking minister promised
him everything.
Sivachar breathed his last. After the usual weeping and wailing
of a Hindu funeral, his corpse was burnt to ashes in a sandalwood
pyre. All his queens--and there were several scores--committed sati
[25] with the corpse. The ceremonies were all regularly conducted,
the minister himself superintended everything.
Kharavadana then succeeded to the throne of Vanjaimanagar. Ranavirasing
became the lord of the palace, and true to his promise exercised all
care over his trust. He was always at the side of Sundara. That he
might not lose the sweetness of boyhood in study and play, Ranavirasing
brought to the palace twenty gentlemen's sons of good conduct and
learning and made them the prince's fellow-students. A professor
for every branch of learning was employed to teach the prince and
his companions. Sundara thus received a sound and liberal education,
only he was never allowed to go out of the palace. Ranavirasing guarded
him very strictly, and he had every reason to do so. For Kharavadana,
as soon as he became king, had issued a notice that the assassin
of Sundara should have a reward of a karor [26] mohurs; and already
every avaricious hand was in search of his head. Before the issue of
this notice, Kharavadana found out a good girl and married her to the
prince. She lived with her husband in the palace, and Ranavirasing
strictly watched her, as she had been chosen by the minister. He would
not allow Sundara to speak to her. These strict prohibitions displeased
the prince, even with his faithful servant. But the latter could not
help it till he had full confidence in her. He used to advise Sundara
not even to take a betel-leaf from her hands. But love is blind. So
the prince within himself accused his old guardian; but he could not
help following his orders. Thus passed on a few years.
Sundara reached his sixteenth year. Nothing happened about the
transference of the kingdom; the prince, almost in imprisonment in
the palace, had forgotten everything about the kingdom. Ranavirasing
wished to wait till, as he thought, the prince had acquired better
governing faculties. Thus some time passed.
Full eight years had elapsed from the death of Sivachar. Sundara was
already eighteen, and still he had not received his kingdom. Nothing
was neglected in his education. Though Ranavirasing exercised all
paternal care over him, still it was not to his liking; for he found
in him a great barrier to the pleasures of youth. The only pleasure
for the prince, therefore, was the company of his friends.
One fine evening on the fourteenth day of the dark half of the month of
Vaisakha of the Vasanta [27] season, the prince was sitting with his
companions in the seventh story of his mansion viewing the town. The
dusk of evening was just throwing her mantle over the city. People in
their several vocations were at that time ceasing work, and returning
home. In the eastern division of the town the prince saw a big mansion,
and just to break the silence asked his friends what that was. "That is
the Rajasthanik Kacheri, [28] a place you ought to have been sitting
in for the last two years. The wretched minister, Kharavadana, has
already usurped your seat; for, if he had intended to give you back
the kingdom he would have done it two years ago when you reached your
sixteenth year. Let us now console ourselves that God has spared your
life till now, notwithstanding all the awards promised to the taker
of your head. Even the proclamation is dying out of the memory of
the people now." So said one of his friends and ceased.
These words fell like arrows in the ear of Sundara and troubled
him. Shame that he had been thus treated brought a change of colour
over his face which all his friends perceived, and they felt sorry for
having touched upon the subject. The prince, perceiving that he had
played a woman's part among his friends, resumed or pretended to resume
his former cheerful countenance, and changed the conversation to some
pleasanter topics. They separated very late that night. Before doing
so, Sundara asked them all to present themselves in the durbar hall
[29] early next morning. At the same time he also ordered Ranavirasing
to keep horses ready for himself and his friends for a morning ride
through the town the next day. "I was only waiting to hear such an
order from your own mouth, Mai Bab Chakravarti! [30] I was thinking
from your retired disposition that you were not an energetic man. I
will have the horses ready." Ranavirasing at once issued orders to
his servants to keep ready saddled and decked twenty-one horses for
the prince and his companions. He also appointed a certain number of
his men to ride in front of the party.
The morning came. The friends assembled, as promised the previous
evening. The prince and they, after a light breakfast, mounted their
horses. The horsemen rode in front and behind. The prince with his
friends marched in the middle. Ranavirasing with drawn sword rode
by his side. The party went through the four main streets of the
town. Every one rose up and paid due respect to their old king's
son. When passing through the street where the minister's mansion was,
Ranavirasing perceived that Kharavadana paid no respect to the royal
march. This seemed a most unbearable insult to Ranavirasing. He bit
his lips, gnashed his teeth, and wrung his hands. The prince observed
all the mental pains of his faithful guardian, and laughed to himself
at his simplicity. About mid-day the party returned to the palace. The
friends dispersed, and Sundara after the ceremonies of the new-moon
day had a slight dinner, and retired to rest.
The morning ride was deep in the mind of the prince. Though he laughed
to himself at the simplicity of Ranavirasing when the latter gnashed
his teeth in the morning, the insult had left a stronger and deeper
impression in his heart. The day was almost spent. Sundara took a very
light supper, and shut himself up in his bed-room before the first
watch was quite over. Ranavirasing, as usual, watched outside. The
prince found his wife sound asleep in her bed, and without disturbing
her he went up and down the room. A thread-like substance attracted his
attention in a corner of the bed-chamber. On examination he found it
to be a thread ladder. He had not even time to think how it came into
the bed-chamber. Just then Ranavirasing had retired for a few minutes
to take his supper. "The old fool is off now to eat; and Paramesvara
has thrown this ladder in my way. Let me now escape." Thus thinking,
Sundara came out unobserved by his old guardian, and ascended to the
top of the seventh mansion. From that place he cast his ladder towards
a big tree in the East Main street. On pulling it he found that it was
firmly fixed. "Let me get down, and Paramesvara will assist me." So
praying, before the first watch was over, the prince got down from
his palace, and was in a few minutes in the East street. The severe
watch kept over him by Ranavirasing made it very difficult for him
to go out when he liked, and now by the grace of God, as he thought,
he had escaped that dark new-moon night.
"Life is dear to every one. What can I do if any of the minister's
men find me out now and murder me? Na daivam Sankarat param. No
god but Sankara, and he will now help me." Thus thinking he walked
to the nearest pyal, and lingered there till the bustle of the town
subsided. Nor was it in vain that he stopped there. He overheard while
there the following conversation take place between the master and
mistress of the house at which he lingered:--"Console yourself, my
wife. What shall we do? Fate has so willed it on our heads. May Brahma
[31] become without a temple for the evil that he has sent us. When the
old king was living he appreciated my merits, and at every Sankranti
[32] gave me due dakshina [33] for my knowledge of the Vedas. [34]
Now there reigns a tyrant over our kingdom. I have been lingering
here with the hope that the son of Sivachar would one day come to the
throne and relieve our sufferings. Now that such hope is altogether
gone, I have made up my mind to leave this nasty city, and go to some
good place where there reigns a king who can appreciate our yogyata
(merit)." Of these words Sundara overheard every syllable, and these
supplied the fuel to the fire of shame and anger that was already
burning in his mind. "Let me try to win back my kingdom. If I succeed,
I shall save other lives. If I die, I alone die. May Paramesvara help
me." So saying he walked out of the town, and passed the east gate. The
night was as dark as could be, for it was a new moon night. Clouds
were gathering in the sky, and there were some symptoms of rain.
There was a Ganesa temple on the way. As it was already drizzling,
the prince went inside till the rain should cease. No sooner had he
entered it than he saw two men, who by their conversation appeared to
be shepherds, coming towards that same temple. They seemed to have
been watching their flocks near an adjacent field, and had come to
shelter themselves from the rain in the temple. Sundara when he saw
them, trembled for his life, and crept in. The shepherds sat down on
the verandah, and taking out their bags began to chew betel-nuts. An
idle lizard began to chirp in a corner. To break the silence, one
said to the other, "Well, Ramakon, I have heard that you are a great
soothsayer and interpreter of bird sounds and lizard speeches. Let me
know what these chirps of the lizard that we heard just now mean. Tell
me." Ramakon replied, "This is news which I would never have revealed
at any other time. But as no fourth person is likely to be here at this
time on a rainy night, let me tell you that the prince of the town is
now lingering here in this temple. So the lizard says. Hence I said,
'no fourth person.' I am glad that no evil hand has yet been tempted,
though such a high price has been set upon his head. The very fact
that he has lived up to this time unhurt in a tiger's domain augurs
well for his future prosperity." Ramakon had scarcely finished his
speech when the idle lizard again made its chit, chit, and Ramakon
now asked his friend, Lakshmanakon, for that was the other's name,
to interpret those sounds. "This has rather a sad meaning for the
prince. The Mantri [35] and Pradhani [36] are coming here in a few
minutes (nimishas), to consult on a secret topic. So says the lizard,"
said Lakshmanakon to Ramakon, and at that very moment a light was
seen at a distance. "It is the minister's carriage. Let us be off. God
only must save the prince." So saying, they both ran away.
The feelings of the prince inside were like that of a man who
was being led to the gallows. The bitterest enemy of his life,
the minister himself, was coming to that very place where he was
hiding. "I foolishly accused my old guardian, Ranavirasing, and now
I see his good intentions. How I am to be spared from this calamity
Sankara only knows." Thus thinking, he hurriedly fled to the inmost
part of the temple behind the very image, and sat down there, still
like a stump, without even breathing freely, lest his breath might
reveal him. He had ample time there to admire the sound knowledge of
the shepherds in interpreting the lizard chirps, their simplicity,
their honesty and truthfulness; for, had they been otherwise, they
might at once have caught hold of the prince and made him over to the
tiger minister. True to the interpretation of the second shepherd, a
carriage stopped in front of the Ganesa temple, and there came out of
it the Mantri and the Pradhani. Excepting themselves and, of course,
the carriage driver and, as we know, the prince behind the Ganesa,
there were no others there. Kharavadana and his subordinate chose that
solitary place at the dead of night to hold secret consultations. The
Mantri spoke first, and one could easily perceive from his words that
he was in a fit of anger. "Why should the prince be thus allowed to
ride free through my streets? Of the innumerable servants who eat our
salt was there not one to cut down that impertinent head?" roared the
minister. The Pradhani replied, "My king, my lord, excuse me first
for the humble words that I am going to speak before your honour. We
have taken up a kingdom to which we have no right. If the prince
had demanded the throne two years ago, we ought rightfully to have
returned it to him. He never asked, and we did not restore it. He
never troubles us with demands, but lives like a poor subject of the
crown in his own quarters. Such being the case, why should we kill
him? Why should we murder the only son of our old and much-respected
king Sivachar? What I beg to suggest to your honour is, that we should
no more trouble ourselves about his poor head." The Pradhani, as he
discovered that these words were not to the taste of Kharavadana,
stopped at once without proceeding further, though he had much to
say upon that subject. "Vile wretch! Dare you preach morals to your
superiors. You shall see the result of this, before the morning dawns,"
bawled out the Minister. The Pradhani saw that all his excellent advice
was like blowing a horn in a deaf man's ears. He feared for his own
life, and so at once begged a thousand pardons, and promised to bring
the head of the prince within a week. And as Kharavadana wanted only
that, he spared the Pradhani. They then talked on different subjects,
and prepared to start.
The prince inside, behind the Ganesavigraha, [37] was now almost
stifled to death. The short breaths that he inhaled and exhaled
were themselves enough to kill him. Add to that the horrible
words that fell on his ears. For all that he continued to hide
himself. Kharavadana and the Pradhani finished their conversation
and got into the carriage. Sundara called courage to his assistance,
"Sankara has saved me till now; he may so save me throughout." So
thinking to himself, he boldly came out of the temple without making
the least noise and sat behind the carriage, and, as it rolled on,
thought again within himself: "I will follow these, come what may,
and find out what more plans they devise against my life."
The carriage drove on to the opposite end of the town. It passed the
west gate and entered a big park outside the town. The undaunted prince
followed. In the middle of the park a fine tank was discovered. The
banks looked like day, being lighted up profusely. In the midst of the
tank a small island with a gaudy mansion was seen. Pillars of gold,
sofas of silver and doors of diamonds made it the very Indraloka [38]
itself. A broad road with avenues of sweet smelling flowering trees
connected the island with the bank. It was at that road that the
carriage stopped. The prince, before that was reached, had got down
and hid himself under the shade of a tree, to see unobserved all that
passed in the mansion which he had every reason to believe was the
destination of the minister. Kharavadana descended from the carriage
and sent the Pradhani home. What most astonished the prince was the
absence of male servants in that garden. At the entrance of the road
twenty young females of the most exquisite beauty waited and conducted
Kharavadana through the sweet bower to the mansion. When it was
reached, the minister sat down on a most richly furnished gold couch,
and ordered the females there to bring the queen. Ten females arranged
themselves on each side of an ivory palanquin, and started, apparently,
to bring the queen in it. "These females themselves resemble Rambha,
[39] Urvasi, [39] &c. A woman who has beauty superior to the heads of
these females must, of course, be of the greatest beauty imaginable in
this world. Let me see her." Thus thinking, the prince Sundara
anxiously awaited the return of the palanquin. In a few minutes it
came. A female of the most charming beauty jumped briskly out of it. The
minister came running to give his helping hand to her. Horror of
horrors, what sees the prince! It was his own wife, the very girl that
the minister had married to him a few years before, that got down from
the palanquin. "Are my eyes deceived? Do they perform their functions
aright? Let me look once more." So again and again wiping his eyes to
clear them a little, the prince saw distinctly. It was his very wife
herself. "Oh, I most foolishly accused that grey-headed guardian for
a wicked fool, because he would not allow me to be friends with my
wife. I now see what he saw a long time ago. Perhaps if I had seen
more of her I should have thus been brought in here by some secret
way that these devils seem now to have to the inmost parts of the
palace. If I had taken anything from her hands I should have died
that very day. My poor old man, my Ranavirasing it is, who has saved
me from all these calamities." These thoughts and a thousand more
were passing through Sundara's mind when he saw his wife sitting down
on the same couch with the minister. She accused him of the delay in
murdering her husband, of his letting all opportunities escape during
the morning ride. "Horrible! Did you, Kharavadana, marry me to such
a faithful wife! Thank God and Ranavirasing that I have not fallen
into her snares," thought Sundara to himself. The minister offered
a thousand excuses, related to her all that had taken place between
himself and the Pradhani, and of what the latter had promised. Then
they both retired to bed. At that moment the treacherous owl began
to hoot, and one of the maid-servants, who happened to be a clever
interpreter of owl-hootings revealed, to secure the favour of the
minister, that the prince was lurking behind a tree in that very
garden. Knowing the price set on Sundara's head even female hands
flew to cut it off. All ran with torches to search the garden.
These words, of course, fell upon the ears of the prince like
thunder. Before the people there began their search he began his race,
jumped over a high wall, and flew like a kite. Before the lady-racers
and the minister had left their sweet road to the tank-bank, Sundara
found himself in the north street of the town. The news that the
prince was out that night spread like a flame from the pleasure-park
outside throughout the whole town, and before long avaricious persons
were searching in the streets for his valuable head. Sundara thought
it dangerous to pass through the streets, and wished to hide himself
in a safe place. Fortune conducted him to one. It was a ruined old
choultry, where food, during the days of his father, was distributed
in charity to the beggars of the town, and which was now only resorted
to by them to sleep, and not to receive rice. The prince entered it,
and laid himself down in the midst of them, fortunately unobserved. He
could hear from where he was the noise of the persons searching
outside. In the garden the minister searched in vain, and accusing
the female for her wrong interpretation as he thought, retired to bed.
Outside the north gate, at a distance of three ghatikas' walk, lived
a robber. He used to start out on a plundering expedition once in
seven years. In the houses and mansions he used to rob he took only
jewels of various kinds, Gomeda, [40] pushparuga, (topaz) vajra, [41]
vaidurya, [42] &c.; gold and silver he rejected as being too mean for
his dignity. As he was a high-caste robber, he used to take a coolie
with him on his way to carry his booty. Of course, that coolie never
returned from the cave. He was put to death after his services were
over, lest he should disclose the secret of the robber.
Unfortunately, that new-moon night happened to be the night of that
cruel robber's plundering expedition. He came out, and when he saw
people in search of the prince, thinking that he was not in his palace,
he wanted to plunder it. Wishing for a coolie, he entered the ruined
choultry, to pick out one among the beggars there. Passing over the
others he came to the prince. He found him stout and strong. "This
beggar will do me good service to-day. I shall break my custom,
and amply reward this man for his services." So thinking to himself,
the gentleman robber tapped Sundara with his cane on the back. The
prince had just closed his eyes. In the short sleep that ensued he
dreamt that the minister's servants were pursuing him, and that
one had caught him. At that very moment the gentleman-robber's
stroke fell upon his back, giving a sort of reality to his dream. He
awoke with horror. "Tell me who you are," asked the unknown person,
"A beggar," was the reply. "How does the night appear to you?" asked
the robber. "As dark as dark can be," replied the prince. The robber
applied a sort of kajjala [43] to the prince's eyes, and asked, "How
does the night appear now?" "As luminous as if a karor of suns were
in the sky," answered Sundara. The robber applied a tilaka [44] to the
intended coolie's forehead and addressed him thus: "I am a robber, now
going to plunder the palace, from which the prince is absent. Follow
me. I shall reward you richly. The kajjala has made the night a day
to you. The tilaka takes you unobserved wherever you wish to go." So
saying, and dragging the coolie or supposed coolie by the hand,
the robber went off to the palace. Wherever he found a door locked,
he applied a leaf that he carried in his hand to the fastening, and
behold, the lock flew back, and the door opened of its own accord. The
prince was astonished. In a few minutes the robber opened one and all
of the gates and boxes, and extracted all the precious stones. He tied
them up in a bundle, and set it on the prince's head, and asked him to
follow. Sundara followed. He assisted in the plunder of his own palace,
and carried the booty behind the robber, who, praised be his stupidity,
never for one moment suspected he was a prince, but admired his coolie
for the beauty of his person, thought of saving his life, and also of
making him his son-in-law. For the robber had a beautiful daughter,
for whom he had long been searching for a suitable husband. So with
this thought he reached the cave, stopped before it, and taking the
bundle from the prince's head ordered him to go into a large cell,
the mouth of which he covered with a big stone, which he lifted up by
pronouncing an incantation over it. The robber went with the bundle
to his wife, and described to her the beauty of the coolie, and what
a fair match he would be for their daughter. The wife did not like it,
and asked her husband to do with the coolie as they usually did, i.e.,
murder him; and the robber, who never in anything acted against the
will of his wife, went in to fetch his weapon.
Meanwhile the robber's daughter, an excellent girl, of the most
charming beauty, overhearing all that took place between her parents,
came running to the cave where the coolie was confined. She pronounced
a single word over the stone lid of the cave, and it opened, and the
prince, who had lost all hopes of recovery, now beheld a beautiful girl
coming towards him. "Whoever you may be, my dear coolie, fly for your
life for the present. You are my husband. My father has so named you,
but as my mother does not like it, he has gone to fetch his weapon to
murder you. Excepting we three, none, not even Brahma, can open the
once-shut gates. After hearing you once called my husband, I must ever
regard you so. Now fly, and escape my father's sharp sword. If you are
a man, marry me in kind remembrance of the assistance rendered. If you
fail to do so you are a beast, and I shall die a virgin." So saying she
conducted out in haste the supposed coolie, who had only time to take a
hasty embrace, whispering in her ear that he was the prince, and that
he would marry her without fail. He now ran for his life. Fearing the
robber would come after him he left the way by which he reached the
cave, and passing through unknown fields reached the south gate of
the town. By that time the search for him had almost abated, and the
prince, praising God for his delivery, reached the south street. The
night was almost spent. Before returning to the palace he wished
to take rest for a few minutes, till he had recovered his breath,
and so he sat down on the pyal of an old and almost ruined house.
That happened to be the house of a poor Brahman, who had not even
sufficient clothes to wear. As the prince sat down in a corner of
the pyal the door of the house opened, and the old Brahman came
out. The old woman, the Brahmani, was standing at the door with a
vessel containing water for her husband. Subhasastri, for that was
the Brahman's name, looked up to the sky for a couple of minutes,
after which he heaved a deep sigh, and said, "Alas, the prince,
the only son of our former protector, Sivachar, is not to remain
for more than two ghatikas. A kalasarpa (black serpent) will sting
him. What shall we do? We are poor. If we could begin Sarpahoma [45]
now we could tie the mouth of the snake, sacrifice it in the fire,
and thus save the prince." So saying the poor Brahman cried. Sundara,
who overheard everything, jumped down in confusion, and fell at the
feet of the Brahman, who asked him who he was. "I am a herdsman of
the palace. Preserve my master's life," was the reply. Subhasastri
was extremely poor. He had no means to procure a small quantity of
ghi even to begin the homa. [46] He did not know what to do. He begged
from his neighbours, who all laughed at his stupidity, and ridiculed
his astrology. The prince in a hopeless state of anguish wrung his
hands, and in wringing them he felt his ring. Drawing it off his
finger he gave it to Subhasastri, and requested him to pawn it. The
latter resorted to the nearest bazar, and awakening the bazar-keeper
procured from him a little ghi, by pawning the ring. Running home and
bathing in cold water the Brahman sat down for the homa. The prince,
fearing the serpent, wished to sit inside the house, but at a distance
from the place of the ceremony. Just at the appointed hour a large
black serpent broke through the sky, fell on the head of the prince,
whom he was not able to bite, and gave up its life in the fire. "This
is no shepherd, but the very prince himself," said the Brahmani. [47]
Sundara rose up, and running surrounded them thrice, spoke to them
thus:--"You alone are my parents and protectors. This night has
been a most adventurous one with me. There was every possibility of
my escaping every other calamity, and so I did. But no other power
except yours could have averted this snake-bite. So my rescue is due
to you alone. I have no time to lose now. Before daylight I must fly
unobserved to the palace, and you shall before long see my reward
for this." So saying, Sundara ran to his palace and entered.
Ranavirasing was almost dead. The rumour that the prince was out
reached him. He was astonished at the way in which Sundara had got
out. He searched the whole palace. To his astonishment all the rooms
had previously been opened and plundered. "Has the prince been stolen
away by some vile tricks from the palace," thought Ranavirasing,
and without knowing what to do he was buried in the ocean of sorrow,
from which he gave up all hopes of recovering. What was his joy,
then, when he saw the prince enter the palace just at dawn. "Mai Bab
Chakravarti, where have you been the whole night, throwing away the
advice of your poor slave? How many enemies you have in this world,
you have yet to know," said Ranavirasing. "I know them all now, only
listen to what I say, and do as I bid. I have won the crown without
a blow. Thank the day that gave me you as my protector, for it was
only yesterday that I had ample reason to verify your statements. My
adventures would make your hair stand on end. Thank God I have escaped
from all of them unhurt. If you have a few men ready now, we have won
the kingdom." So saying, the prince explained to him every detail of
his adventure. "If we catch hold of the minister now, we have done
all." "I could never for one moment think that you in a single night
could have seen and done so much. Now that heaven has shown you the
way, I shall obey you," said Ranavirasing, and Sundara accordingly
issued the orders. He described the house with the pyal at which he
had lingered for a while the previous night, and asked a servant to
bring the owner of that house to the Rajasthanik office. Ranavirasing
brought in the Pradhani, who was extremely delighted at the good
intention of the prince. He was offered the Mantri's place. Two were
sent to the shepherds. Twenty were sent to the pleasure-park to have
the minister and his sweet paramour brought to the court in chains. The
female servants were also ordered to be brought. The robber and his
cruel wife were not forgotten. The prince minutely described the
cave, and asked his servants to catch and imprison the robber by
surprising him suddenly, without giving him time to have recourse
to his vile tricks--lock-breaking kajjala, &c. The palace palanquin
was sent for the robber's daughter, whom the prince had firmly made
up his mind to marry. The palace elephants were decked and sent to
fetch with all pomp Subhasastri and his wife to the court. Thus,
without a single stroke, Sundara won the kingdom. Ranavirasing was
thunder-struck by the excellent and bold way in which the prince in
one night went through the series of calamities, and successfully
overcame them all. The Pradhani's delight knew no bounds. He himself
broke open the court and every one connected with the previous night's
adventure was ushered in. The prince bathed, offered up his prayers,
and attended the council. When Subhasastri came in with his wife the
prince put them on the simhasana, [48] and himself standing before
them, explained to all his previous night's adventures, rewarded
the poor Brahman and the shepherds, punished by banishment the
maid-servant who, knowing that the prince's head was coveted, revealed
his concealment, and ordered his wife, the minister, the robber,
and the robber's wife to be beheaded. He rewarded without limit his
protector, Subhasastri, and married the robber's daughter, being won
over by her sincerity. The Pradhani, as we have said already, he made
his minister, and with his old guardian, the faithful Ranavirasing,
the prince reigned for several years in the kingdom of Vanjaimanagar.