V.

"CHARITY ALONE CONQUERS."

Dharmame jayam.

In the town of Tevai [49] there lived a king called Suguna. He had

an excellent minister named Dharmasila. They ruled for a long time in

prosperity over the kingdom. Both of them had sons. The prince's name

was Subuddhi. He was a noble prince, and quite in keeping with his

name, was always bent upon doing good to the world. The minister's son

was named Durbuddhi, a most wicked boy, whose only delight was teasing

beasts and birds from his infancy, and which ripened into all sorts

of wickedness as he grew to boyhood. Notwithstanding the difference

between their temperaments the prince and the minister's son were the

best of friends. The motto of the prince was Dharmame jayam--Charity

alone conquers. That of the minister's son was Adharmame jayam--Absence

of Charity alone conquers. When rising from their beds, when beginning

their prayers, when sitting down for meals or study, and, in fact,

before beginning to do anything, each repeated his motto. The people

had great hopes in Subuddhi, whom they fully expected to see a good

and benevolent king; but the minister's son all thoroughly hated. Even

the minister himself, his father, hated his son for his vile turn of

mind, which he found impossible to change. His only friend, as we have

already said, was the prince, who, notwithstanding all his faults,

loved him sincerely. Both of them had grown up together from their

very cradle, had played in the same dust, had read their lessons

side by side in the same school under the same teachers. Fortune so

ordained that the prince's mind should take such a bent, while the

mind of the minister's son turned in a crooked way.

Nor was Durbuddhi insensible to the disgust and dislike which every

one manifested towards him. He was well aware of all that was going

on around. Still he would not change.

"I have no friend in this world excepting yourself, my dear Subuddhi,"

exclaimed Durbuddhi one day to his royal friend while they were

riding together.

"Fear nothing. I shall ever stand by you as your true friend,"

replied Subuddhi.

"My very father hates me. Who else would like me then? On the other

hand, every one likes you. You may soon get yourself married to some

beautiful lady, while I must remain a bachelor; for no girl would marry

me. You may soon rise to the place of a king; but I cannot become your

minister, as the people do not like me. What can I do?" So said the

minister's son, and hung down his head, as if conscious for a time

of the utter hatred with which the people regarded him.

Subuddhi replied, "Heed it not, I will make you my minister, give

you everything you want, and see you well provided for."

"If so, will you give me your wife one day, at least, if you happen

to get married before me, and if I remain a bachelor after you,"

were the words which the wretched Durbuddhi shamelessly uttered to

the face of his only friend.

These words were enough in themselves to enrage the prince's mind. But

he was of so good a nature that instead of becoming angry, he smiled

at the stupidity of his companion, and agreed that he would thus give

him his wife one day in case he got married first. Thus took place

an agreement between Subuddhi and Durbuddhi while they were still

quite young.

Several years passed after this agreement, when one day the prince

went to hunt in a neighbouring forest. His inseparable companion,

the minister's son, and several hunters followed him to the wood. The

prince and the minister's son both gave chase to a deer. They rode

so much in advance of the hunters that they lost themselves in a

thick jungle, where the latter could neither see nor follow them. The

hunters returned after dark, and informed the king and the minister

about the disappearance of their sons. They thought that as their

sons were grown-up men they need not fear for their safety.

The two friends chased the deer and found themselves in the midst

of a thick forest in the evening. Except a slight breakfast in the

early morning they had tasted no other food. Hunger was pinching them

severely. The hot chase had awakened a severe thirst, to quench which

they were not able to find a drop of water. In utter hopelessness of

life they resigned themselves to the course of their steeds. The beasts

seemed very well to understand the wants of their royal riders. They

went on trotting, and at last, about midnight, stopped on the banks

of a large tank.

The riders, who were almost dead with thirst, opened their closed eyes

when the horses stopped. All of a sudden, and to their great joy,

they found themselves on the banks of a large tank. Their joy knew

no bounds.

"Surely God takes care of His children. Had it not been for His kind

care how could we have come to this tank, when we had given ourselves

up to the guidance of our horses?" thought Subuddhi to himself,

and got down from his horse.

The minister's son, who had become more exhausted by that time than

his companion, also alighted. Subuddhi, true to the nobility of his

mind, took both the steeds first to water, and, after satisfying their

thirst and loosening them to graze by the side of a grassy meadow,

he went into the water to quench his thirst. The minister's son also

followed. After a short prayer Subuddhi took some handfuls of water,

and returned to the bank. Durbuddhi also returned. They chose a

clean spot, and sat down to rest during the remaining part of the

night. The prince, when taking his seat, pronounced his usual motto,

"Charity alone conquers," and the minister's son also repeated his,

"Absence of Charity alone conquers."

These words fell like venom into the ears of the prince at that

time. He could not control his anger then, notwithstanding his mild

disposition. The hardships of the day, their fortunate arrival on a

tank in the dead of night to have their thirst quenched, were fresh

in Subuddhi's mind, and the prayers that he was offering to God were

not yet over. That the minister's son should never think of all this,

and go on with his own stupid motto even at that time was intolerable

to Subuddhi.

"Vile wretch! detested atheist! have you no shame, to utter your wicked

motto even after such calamities? It is not too late even now. Mend

your character. Think of the God that saved you just now. Believe in

Him. Change your motto from this day." Thus spoke the angry prince

to the minister's son.

Durbuddhi, who was naturally of a wicked and quarrelsome temperament,

flew into a rage at once at the excellent advice of the prince.

"Stop your mouth. I know as well as you do; you cannot wag your tail

here. I can oppose you single-handed in this forest."

Thus saying, the minister's son sprang like an enraged lion at

Subuddhi, who, as he never dreamt of any such thing, was completely

overpowered by the wicked Durbuddhi. The prince was thrown down in the

twinkling of an eye, and the minister's son was upon him. He severely

thrashed his royal master, and, taking hold of a twig that was lying

close by, tore out the prince's two eyes, filled up the sockets with

sand, and ran away with his horse, thinking that he had completely

killed him.

Subuddhi was almost dead; his body was bruised all over; his eyes

were no more; his physical pain was unbearable.

"Is there a God over us all?" thought Subuddhi. The night was

almost over. The cool and sweet breeze of the morning gave him some

strength. He rose up, and, crawling on the ground, felt his way to

the entrance of a temple. He crept in, shut the gates, and fastened

the bolt.

It happened to be a temple of the fierce Kali. She used to go out every

morning to gather roots and fruits, and to return at evening. That

day, when she returned, she found her gates shut against her. She

threatened with destruction the usurper of her temple. A voice,

and we know that it was Subuddhi's, replied from within:

"I am already dying of the loss of my eyes. So, if in anger you kill

me, it is so much the better; for what use is there in my living

blind? If, on the contrary, you pity me, and by your divine power

give me my eyes, I shall open the gates."

Kali was in a very difficult position. She was very hungry, and saw

no other way of going inside than by giving Subuddhi his eyes.

"Open the gates; your request is granted," said Kali. No sooner were

these words uttered than the prince recovered his eyes. His delight

may be better imagined than described. He opened the gates and vowed

before Kali that he would from that day continue in that temple as

her servant and worshipper.

The wretched Durbuddhi, after his horrible act, rode on composedly,

following the footsteps of his horse, and reached the forest where

he had been hunting the day before in company with the prince. He

thence returned home all alone. When his father saw him coming back

he suspected something wrong to the prince, and asked his son what

had become of him.

"We chased a deer, and he rode so much in advance of me that he

was out of sight, and finding all search vain, I returned alone,"

was Durbuddhi's reply.

"This I would have believed from anyone but yourself. Never plant your

feet in these dominions till you bring back the prince again. Run for

your life," was the order of the minister, and Durbuddhi accordingly

ran off, fearing the anger of his father.

Thus the Prince Subuddhi served in the Kali temple; and Durbuddhi,

fully confident that he had killed his friend, roamed about from

place to place, as he saw no possibility of returning to his own

country without the prince.

Thus passed several months. The goddess Kali was extremely delighted

at the sincere devotion of Subuddhi, and, calling him one day to her

side, said:

"My son! I am delighted with your great devotion to me. Enough of

your menial services here. Better return now to your kingdom. Your

parents are likely to be much vexed at your loss. Go and console

their minds." Thus ended Kali, and Subuddhi replied:

"Excuse me, my goddess, my mother, I no more regard them as my

parents. This wood is not a large place if they wished to search

for me. As they were so careless about me, I shall also from this

day disregard them. You are my father and mother. Therefore permit

me to end my days here in your service." So saying, Subuddhi begged

Kali to allow him to stay, and the goddess agreed accordingly, for

some time at least.

After a few more months, Kali called the prince again to her, and

addressed him thus:

"My boy! I have devised another plan. Better not, then, go to your

parents, as you do not wish to go now. At a short distance from this

place, in the Kaveri country, reigns a staunch devotee of mine. His

daughter had small-pox, and as he forgot to do proper respect to me,

I have blinded both her eyes. The king has issued a proclamation that

he will give the whole kingdom and his daughter in marriage to him who

would cure her of her defect. He has hung up a bell (ghanta) at which

every physician who wishes to try the case strikes. The king comes

running as soon as he hears the sound, takes home the doctor and shows

him the case. Several persons have tried in vain; for who could repair

a defect inflicted by the displeasure of the gods? Now I mean to send

you there. That king is a staunch worshipper of my feet. Though I have

punished him, still I pity the sad calamity that has come upon his

daughter. You had better go there and strike the bell. He will take

you and show you the case. For three consecutive days apply my holy

ashes to her eyes. Though fools may deride these ashes, still by them

a true devotee can work wonders. On the fourth day her eyes will be

perfectly restored. Then you will secure her hand, and, what is more,

the country of Kaveri. Reign there, for you are born to reign, being

a prince, and not to spend your time here in this wood. If you do not

do so you will commit a sin, and, what is more, incur my displeasure."

Thus ended Kali, and the prince could not refuse; for he feared the

anger of the goddess. Agreeing to her words, and with her manifold

blessings, he started and reached the kingdom of Kaveri.

He struck the bell. The king came running to welcome the new

doctor. All the previous physicians had tried by medicines external

and internal. The new doctor--Prince Subuddhi--proposed to treat the

case by mantras--incantations. The old king, who was very religious,

fully believed that the new doctor might effect the cure, and, just

as he expected, on the fourth day his daughter's sight was completely

restored. The king's joy knew no bounds. He enquired into the parentage

of the doctor: and when he came to know that he had princely blood

in his veins, that he was as honourably descended as himself, his

joy was greatly increased. He sent up a thousand prayers to the

god for giving him a royal son-in-law. As promised in his notice,

he would have to give his daughter to anyone, whatever he might be,

who effected the cure. The lowest beggar, the lowest caste-man, if

he had only succeeded in curing her, would have had as much claim to

her hand as the prince-physician. So when the person that effected

the cure proved to be a prince, the king was extremely delighted,

and at once made all arrangements for the marriage of his daughter,

and gave her to Subuddhi: and, himself being very old, he gave the

kingdom also to the prince at the same time.

Thus by the favour of Kali, Subuddhi had a princess for his wife and a

kingdom to govern. Subuddhi, as we know, was an excellent man. Though

he became king now, he consulted his father-in-law in all matters,

and, in fact, acted only as manager for the old man. Every evening he

used to consult him for an hour or two before disposing of intricate

cases. The duty of signing, too, he reserved for the old man. Thus

even on those days when there were no cases he used to go to his

father-in-law to get papers signed. Thus passed on a couple of years

or so.

One evening, while sitting in company with his wife in the loftiest

room of his palace after the duties of the day, he cast his eyes to

the east main street and contemplated the bustle of that part of the

town. Carts creaking under the load of merchandise, the flourish

with which the goods and wares were exposed for sale, fashionable

gentlemen in their fanciful evening costumes walking to and fro,

the troublesome hawkers that stand by the roadside questioning every

one as to what they would buy, and several other things interested

him, and for a time made him somewhat proud even, that he ruled over

such a rich country. But sweetness is not always unaccompanied with

bitterness. He saw in that same street a man whose face was very

familiar to him, but whom he could not at once make out. A black

man was sitting on a projecting pyal of a corner of a shop, and was

mending some torn gunny bags. Subuddhi looked at him carefully.

"Is it the minister's son, Durbuddhi? No; he is not so black; rather

was not when I saw him last," thought Subuddhi with himself, and

examining his face, he at last exclaimed, "It is he! It is he! It is my

friend and companion." "Who is it?" exclaimed the princess, and rushed

at once to his side. She had most carefully watched her husband's face

for the past few minutes while he was in deep contemplation. "It is

my friend, the minister's son, by name Durbuddhi. We were companions

from our birth; we played in the same dust, read in the same school,

and were ever inseparable companions. I do not know what has brought

him to the condition in which I see him now," said Subuddhi, and

sent some one to fetch him. Of the wicked and base act of the vile

Durbuddhi he did not care to inform his gentle wife, who now retired

to her inner apartments, as decorum did not allow her to be in company

with her husband when he was receiving others.

The persons sent brought in Durbuddhi. Whatever might have been the

cruelty that he had received from the hands of the minister's son,

the prince began to shed tears when he saw his old companion ushered

in, not in that blooming cheerful red complexion in which he had seen

him last, but in a weather-beaten dark skin and dejected colour of

a coolie in which he saw him a few minutes ago.

"I excuse you all your faults, my dear Durbuddhi. Tell me quickly

what has brought you to this wretched plight," asked Subuddhi, and

while asking he began to cry aloud. The minister's son also shed

tears copiously, and cried or pretended to cry; for be it known that

he was a perfect scoundrel, born to no good in the world.

"My own mischief has brought me to this plight. When I returned to our

country, after putting out your eyes and thinking that I had killed

you, my father banished me from our dominions, and ordered me never

to plant my feet within their limits without bringing you back. As I

thought I had put an end to your life I never came back to that tank

in search of you. I engaged myself as a coolie in the streets of this

town after trying several other places without success, and I now

stand before you." Thus ended Durbuddhi, and the prince quite forgot

his cruelty to him. He ordered his servants to get the minister's

son bathed, and attired in as rich robes as he himself wore. Then

he related to him his own story, without omitting a single point,

and at once made him his minister.

The whole story of Durbuddhi, excepting the single point of his

having put out his eyes, the prince related to his wife, father,

and mother-in-law.

Thus was Durbuddhi again restored to his high position, through the

liberal kindness of Subuddhi. Subuddhi did not stop even at this. He

began to send him with papers and other things to the old king for

signature. This went on for some months. All the while Durbuddhi was

as obedient as might be, and by his vile tricks had completely won

over the heart of the old king.

One evening, after the signatures were over, Durbuddhi stopped for

a while as if desirous to speak. "What do you want?" said the old

king. "Nothing but your favour," was the only reply, after which he

retired. Thus he went on for some days and weeks. Every day he stopped

for a few minutes after the state business was over, and when the

old king asked the reason for it went on giving evasive answers. At

last one evening the old king was extremely provoked. The cunning

Durbuddhi had purposely intended this.

"What a big fool are you to stop every day as if wishing to speak

and never to utter a word," broke out the old king.

"I beg pardon of your honour; I was thinking all the while whether I

should let out my secret or not. At last, I have come to the conclusion

that I will keep it to myself," replied the diabolical Durbuddhi.

"No, you shall let it out," roared the old king, whose curiosity

was more roused than abated by the words, purposely obscure, of

the minister's son. Durbuddhi, after simulating much reluctance at

disclosing the supposed secret, loudly began his harangue:

"My lord, ever since I came here I have been making enquiries about

the nobility of your family, about the sacrifices that you and your

ancestors have performed, about the purifications that you and your

elders have undergone, and about a thousand other particulars, each

of which is enough to secure you and your descendants the place of

Achyuta (Achyutapada) himself. These delighted me for a time--I say

for a time--for listen, please, to what follows. When I compared with

the pure fame of your famous family, that of your son-in-law, my heart

began to pain me. Indeed the pain which began at that moment has not

yet ceased. Know, then, that your son-in-law is not a prince. No doubt

he has royal blood in his veins, which makes him look like a king. How

came he to be so skilful in medicine. Just enquire the cause. To be no

more in the dark, the king of my country--over which my father is the

minister--set out one day on savar. While passing a barber's street he

saw a beautiful damsel of that caste. Bewitched by her beauty the king

wanted to include her in his harem, notwithstanding her low position

in society. The child of that woman, is your son-in-law. He being the

son of a barber-mother acquired thus easily the art of medicine. That

a king was his father makes him look like a prince. If he had been of

pure birth why should he leave his kingdom, and come here to effect

the cure of your daughter? Except this prince, or supposed prince,

all those that came here were mere doctors by caste." Thus ended the

vile Durbuddhi, and taking in his hand the papers, vanished out of

the room quickly, like a serpent that had stung.

The sweet words in which the minister's son clothed his arguments,

the rising passion at the thought that he had been falsely imposed

upon by a barber's son, the shame--or rather supposed shame--that he

thought had come over his family, and a thousand other feelings clouded

for a time the clear reason of the old king. He saw no other way of

putting an end to the shame than by the murder of his dear daughter and

son-in-law first, and of his own self and queen afterwards. At once he

sent for the executioner, who came in. He gave him his signet-ring,

and commanded him to break open the bed-room of his son-in-law that

midnight, and murder him with his wife while asleep. The hukums, or

orders given with signet-rings, can never be disobeyed. The executioner

humbled himself to the ground, as a sign of his accepting the order,

and retired to sharpen his knife for his terrible duty.

Neither Subuddhi nor his affectionate wife had any reason to suspect

this terrible mandate. The old queen and the treacherous Durbuddhi

had equally no reason to know anything about it. The old man, after

issuing the hukum, shut himself up in his closet, and began to weep

and wail as if he had lost his daughter from that moment. Durbuddhi,

after kindling the fire, as says the Tamil proverb, by means of his

treachery, came back with the papers to the prince. A thought occurred

in his mind that Subuddhi's fate was drawing near. He wanted to carry

out the agreement between himself and the prince about the latter's

wife. The excellent Subuddhi, who always observed oaths most strictly,

was confused for a time. He did not know what to do. To stick to the

oath and surrender his wife to another; or to break it and preserve

the chastity of his own wife. At last, repeating in his own mind,

"Charity alone conquers," and also thinking that Heaven would somehow

devise to preserve his wife, he went to her, explained to her how

the matter stood, and ordered her to go to the minister's son. She

hesitatingly consented; for, as a good wife, she could not disobey

her husband's commands. Subuddhi then told Durbuddhi that he might

have his wife as his own.

The princess went to her mother, crying that her husband had turned

out mad. "Or else who would promise to give his wife to another. What

does he mean by that?"

"My daughter! fear nothing, perhaps, in his boyhood, he made this rash

promise without thinking. The promise once made now pains him. Unable

to break it, and leaving it to yourself to preserve your chastity,

he has so ordered you. And he would, nay must, excuse you, if you

by some means or other save yourself, and apparently make good

your husband's promise also. A thought just comes to me how to do

that. There is your foster-sister, exactly resembling you. I shall

send her in your place." So consoling her daughter, the old queen at

once made all the requisite arrangements. And, of course, Subuddhi

had no reason then to know anything about them.

In the middle of the night his door is forced open, and a ruffian

with a drawn sword, blazing like lightning, rushes in, and murders

the pair. Thus in that very night in which Durbuddhi had reached the

topmost point of his vice, he was cut down by the supreme hand of

God. For, it is said, that when crime increases, God himself cannot

tolerate it.

The morning dawned. Subuddhi rose from his couch, and after his morning

prayers was sitting in the council hall. The princess and her mother

rose from their beds, and were attending to their business. A servant

just at that time came running to the old queen, and said:

"Our king is weeping in his room that his daughter is now no more. I

think that there is something wrong with his majesty's brains

to-day. Come and console him."

The queen, who knew nothing of what had happened, ran to her husband's

room, quite astonished at the change. The husband reported everything

to her--the sage-looking minister's son, the barber's son-in-law,

and everything, and then concluded that their daughter and son-in-law

were no more.

"What! compose yourself. Our son-in-law is sitting in his durbar. Our

daughter is just adorning herself in her dressing-room. Were you

dreaming? Are you in your right senses?" said the queen.

The king ordered the executioner to bring the heads, which, on

examination, proved to be those of the minister's son and of the

foster-sister. The queen told everything of the one-day-wife-giving

engagement, and her own arrangements about it. The old king could not

understand what all this meant. He drew out his sword and ran to the

durbar like a maddened lion, and stood armed before his son-in-law.

"Relate to me your true origin, and everything respecting

yourself. Speak the truth. How came you to learn medicine? If you are a

prince why should you leave your own dominions and come down here? What

about this wicked agreement of giving your wife to another? Who is

this minister's son?"

Subuddhi, without omitting a single point, related everything that

had taken place, even to the putting out of his eyes. The old man

threw down his sword, took his son-in-law in his arms almost, for so

great was his joy at the excellent way which fate had prepared for

his escape, and said:

"My son, my life, my eye. True it is, true it is. Dharma alone

conquers, and you that hold that motto have conquered everything. The

vile wretch whom, notwithstanding the series of rogueries that

he practised upon you, you protected, has at last found out that

his Adharmam never conquers. But he never found it out. It was his

Adharmam that cut him off on the very night of his supposed complete

conquest by it."

Letters were sent at once to Tevai, inviting Suguna and Dharmasila

to the happy rejoicings at the prince and princess's delivery, and

a re-marriage was celebrated with all pomp, in honour of their lucky

escape. Dharmasila, as he disliked his son, never shed a single tear

for his loss. Subuddhi lived for a long time, giving much consolation

to his own and his wife's parents. Through the blessings of Kali they

had several intelligent sons.