There is a book written in the ancient tongue of India, and
called "Vetálapanchavinsati," signifying "The Twenty-Five
Tales of a Demon."... And these tales are marvelous above
all stories told by men; for wondrous are the words of
Demons, and everlasting.... Now this Demon dwelt within a
corpse, and spake with the tongue of the corpse, and gazed
with the eyes of the corpse. And the corpse was suspended by
its feet from a tree overshadowing tombs....
Now on the fourteenth of the moonless half of the month
Bhadon, the Kshatrya king Vikramaditya was commanded by a
designing Yogi that he should cut down the corpse and bring
the same to him. For the Yogi thus designed to destroy the
king in the night....
And when the king cut down the corpse, the Demon which was
in the corpse laughed and said: "If thou shouldst speak once
upon the way, I go not with thee, but return unto my tree."
Then the Demon began to tell to the king stories so strange
that he could not but listen. And at the end of each story
the Demon would ask hard questions, threatening to devour
Vikramaditya should he not answer; and the king, rightly
answering, indeed avoided destruction, yet, by speaking,
perforce enabled the Demon to return to the tree.... Now
listen to one of those tales which the Demon told:
O King, there once was a city called Dharmpur, whose rajah Dharmshil
built a glorious temple to Devi, the goddess with a thousand shapes
and a thousand names. In marble was the statue of the goddess wrought,
so that she appeared seated cross-legged upon the cup of a monstrous
lotus, two of her four hands being joined in prayer, and the other two
uplifting on either side of her fountain basins, in each of which stood
an elephant spouting perfumed spray. And there was exceeding great
devotion at this temple; and the people never wearied of presenting to
the goddess sandal-wood, unbroken rice, consecrated food, flowers, and
lamps burning odorous oil.
Now from a certain city there came one day in pilgrimage to Devi's
temple, a washerman and a friend with him. Even as he was ascending the
steps of the temple, he beheld a damsel descending toward him, unrobed
above the hips, after the fashion of her people. Sweet as the moon
was her face; her hair was like a beautiful dark cloud; her eyes were
liquid and large as a wild deer's; her brows were arched like bows well
bent; her delicate nose was curved like a falcon's beak; her neck was
comely as a dove's; her teeth were like pomegranate seeds; her lips
ruddy as the crimson gourd; her hands and feet soft as lotus-leaves.
Golden-yellow was her skin, like the petals of the champa-flowers; and
the pilgrim saw that she was graceful-waisted as a leopard. And while
the tinkling of the gold rings about her round ankles receded beyond
his hearing, his sight became dim for love, and he prayed his friend to
discover for him who the maiden might be.... Now she was the daughter
of a washerman.
Then did the pilgrim enter into the presence of the goddess, having
his mind filled wholly by the vision of that girl; and prostrating
himself he vowed a strange vow, saying: "O Devi, Mahadevi--Mother of
Gods and Monster-slayer--before whom all the divinities bow down, thou
hast delivered the earth from its burdens! thou hast delivered those
that worshiped thee from a thousand misfortunes! Now I pray thee, O
Mother Devi, that thou wilt be my helper also, and fulfill the desire
of my heart. And if by thy favor I be enabled to marry that loveliest
of women, O Devi, verily I will make a sacrifice of my own head to
thee." Such was the vow which he vowed.
But having returned unto his city and to his home, the torment of
being separated from his beloved so wrought upon him that he became
grievously sick, knowing neither sleep nor hunger nor thirst, inasmuch
as love causes men to forget all these things. And it seemed that he
might shortly die. Then, indeed, his friend, being alarmed, went to the
father of the youth, and told him all, so that the father also became
fearful for his son. Therefore, accompanied by his son's friend, he
went to that city, and sought out the father of the girl, and said
to him: "Lo! I am of thy caste and calling, and I have a favor to
ask of thee. It has come to pass that my son is so enamoured of thy
daughter that unless she be wedded to him he will surely die. Give me,
therefore, the hand of thy daughter for my dear son." And the other
was not at all displeased at these words; but, sending for a Brahman,
he decided upon a day of good omen for the marriage to be celebrated.
And he said: "Friend, bring thy son hither. I shall rub her hands with
turmeric, that all men may know she is betrothed."
Thus was the marriage arranged; and in due time the father of the
youth came with his son to the city; and after the ceremony had
been fulfilled, he returned to his own people with his son and his
daughter-in-law. Now the love these young people held each for the
other waxed greater day by day; and there was no shadow on the young
man's happiness saving the memory of his vow. But his wife so caressed
and fondled him that at last the recollection of the oath faded utterly
away.
After many days it happened that the husband and wife were both invited
to a feast at Dharmpur; and they went thither with the friend who had
before accompanied the youth upon his pilgrimage. Even as they neared
the city, they saw from afar off the peaked and gilded summits of
Devi's temple. Then the remembrance of his oath came back with great
anguish to that young husband. "Verily," he thought within his heart,
"I am most shameless and wicked among all perjurers, having been false
in my vow even to Devi, Mother of Gods!"
And he said to his friend: "I pray thee, remain thou here with my wife
while I go to prostrate myself before Devi."
So he departed to the temple, and bathed himself in the sacred pool,
and bowed himself before the statue with joined hands. And having
performed the rites ordained, he struck himself with a sword a mighty
blow upon his neck, so that his head, being separated from his body,
rolled even to the pillared stem of the marble lotus upon which Devi
sat.
Now after the wife and the dead man's friend had long waited vainly,
the friend said: "Surely he hath been gone a great time; remain thou
here while I go to bring him back!" So he went to the temple, and
entering it beheld his friend's body lying in blood, and the severed
head beneath the feet of Devi. And he said to his own heart: "Verily
this world is hard to live in!... Should I now return, the people would
say that I had murdered this man for the sake of his wife's exceeding
beauty." Therefore he likewise bathed in the sacred pool, and performed
the rites prescribed, and smote himself upon the neck so that his head
also was severed from his body and rolled in like manner unto Devi's
feet.
Now, after the young wife had waited in vain alone for a long while,
she became much tormented by fear for her husband's sake, and went
also to the temple. And when she beheld the corpses and the reeking
swords, she wept with unspeakable anguish, and said to her own heart:
"Surely this world is hard to live in at best; and what is life now
worth to me without my husband? Moreover, people will say that I, being
a wicked woman, murdered them both, in order to live wickedly without
restraint. Let me therefore also make a sacrifice!"...
Saying these words, she departed to the sacred pool and bathed therein,
and, having performed the holy rites, lifted a sword to her own smooth
throat that she might slay herself. But even as she lifted the sword a
mighty hand of marble stayed her arm; while the deep pavement quivered
to the tread of Devi's feet. For the Mother of Gods had arisen, and
descended from her lotus seat, and stood beside her. And a divine voice
issued from the grim lips of stone, saying, "O daughter! Dear hast
thou made thyself to me! Ask now a boon of Devi!" But she answered,
all-tremblingly, "Divinest Mother, I pray only that these men may be
restored to life." Then said the goddess, "Put their heads upon their
bodies."
And the beautiful wife sought to do according to the divine command;
but love and hope and the fear of Devi made dizzy her brain, so that
she placed her husband's head upon the friend's neck, and the head of
the friend upon the neck of her husband. And the goddess sprinkled the
bodies with the nectar of immortality, and they stood up, alive and
well, indeed, yet with heads wonderfully exchanged.
Then said the Demon: "O King Vikramaditya! to which of these
two was she wife? Verily, if thou dost not rightly answer,
I shall devour thee." And Vikramaditya answered: "Listen!
in the holy Shastra it is said that as the Ganges is chief
among rivers, and Sumeru chief among mountains, and the
Tree of Paradise chief among trees, so is the head chief
among the parts of the body. Therefore she was the wife of
that one to whose body her husband's head was joined."...
Having answered rightly, the king suffered no hurt; but
inasmuch as he had spoken, it was permitted the corpse-demon
to return to the tree, and hang suspended therefrom above
the tombs.
...And many times, in like manner, was the Demon enabled to
return to the tree; and even so many times did Vikramaditya
take down and bind and bear away the Demon; and each time
the Demon would relate to the king a story so wild, so
wonderful, that he could not choose but hear.... Now this is
another of those tales which the Demon told:
O King, in the city of Dharmasthal there lived a Brahman, called Kesav;
and his daughter, who was beautiful as an Apsaras, had rightly been
named Sweet Jasmine-Flower, Madhumalati. And so soon as she was nubile,
her father and her mother and her brothers were all greatly anxious to
find her a worthy husband.
Now one day the father and the brother and the mother of the girl each
promised her hand to a different suitor. For the good Kesav, while
absent upon a holy visit, met a certain Brahman youth, who so pleased
him that Kesav promised him Madhumalati; and even the same day, the
brother, who was a student of the Shastras, met at the house of his
spiritual teacher another student who so pleased him that he promised
him Madhumalati; and in the meantime there visited Kesav's home another
young Brahman, who so delighted the mother that she promised him
Madhumakti. And the three youths thus betrothed to the girl were all
equal in beauty, in strength, in accomplishments, and even in years, so
that it would not have been possible to have preferred any one of them
above the rest. Thus, when the father returned home, he found the three
youths there before him; and he was greatly troubled upon learning
all that had taken place. "Verily," he exclaimed, "there is but one
girl and three bridegrooms, and to all of the three has our word been
pledged; to whom shall I give Madhumalati?" And he knew not what to do.
But even as he was thinking, and gazing from one to the other of the
three youths, a hooded serpent bit the girl, so that she died.
Forthwith the father sent out for magicians and holy men, that they
might give back life to his daughter; and the holy men came together
with the magicians. But the enchanters said that, by reason of the
period of the moon, it was not possible for them to do aught; and the
holy men avowed that even Brahma himself could not restore life to one
bitten by a serpent. With sore lamentation, accordingly, the Brahman
performed the funeral rites; and a pyre was built, and the body of
Madhumalati consumed thereupon.
Now those three youths had beheld the girl in her living beauty, and
all of them had been madly enamoured of her; and each one, because he
had loved and lost her, resolved thenceforth to abandon the world and
forego all pleasure in this life. All visited the funeral pyre; and
one of them gathered up all the girl's bones while they were yet warm
from the flame, and tied them within a bag, and then went his way to
become a fakir. Another collected the ashes of her body, and took them
with him into the recesses of a forest, where he built a hut and began
to live alone with the memory of her. The last indeed took no relic
of Madhumalati, but, having prayed a prayer, assumed the garb of a
Yogi, and departed to beg his way through the world. Now his name was
Madhusudam.
Long after these things had happened, Madhusudam one day entered the
house of a Brahman, to beg for alms; and the Brahman invited him
to partake of the family repast. So Madhusudam, having washed his
hands and his feet, sate him down to eat beside the Brahman; and the
Brahman's wife waited upon them. Now it came to pass, when the meal was
still but half served, that the Brahman's little boy asked for food;
and being bidden to wait, he clung to the skirt of his mother's dress,
so that she was hindered in her duties of hospitality. Becoming angry,
therefore, she seized her boy, and threw him into the fireplace where
a great fire was; and the boy was burned to ashes in a moment. But
the Brahman continued to eat as if nothing had happened; and his wife
continued to serve the repast with a kindly smile upon her countenance.
And being horror-stricken at these sights, Madhusudam arose from his
sitting-place, leaving his meal unfinished, and directed his way toward
the door. Then the Brahman kindly questioned him, saying: "O friend,
how comes it that thou dost not eat? Surely both I and my wife have
done what we could to please thee!"
And Madhusudam, astonished and wroth, answered: "How dost thou dare ask
me why I do not eat? How might any being, excepting a Rakshasa, eat in
the house of one by whom such a demon-deed hath been committed?"
But the Brahman smiled, and rose up and went to another part of the
house, and returned speedily with a book of incantations--a book of the
science of resurrection. And he read but one incantation therefrom,
when, lo! the boy that had been burned came alive and unscorched from
the fire, and ran to his mother, crying and clinging to her dress as
before.
Then Madhusudam thought within himself: "Had I that wondrous book, how
readily might I restore my beloved to life!" And he sat down again,
and, having finished his repast, remained in that house as a guest.
But in the middle of the night he arose stealthily, and purloined the
magical book, and fled away to his own city.
And after many days he went upon a pilgrimage of love to the place
where the body of Madhumalati had been burned (for it was the
anniversary of her death), and arriving he found that the other two who
had been betrothed to her were also there before him. And lifting up
their voices, they cried out: "O Madhusudam! thou hast been gone many
years and hast seen much. What hast thou learned of science?"
But he answered: "I have learned the science that restores the dead to
life." Then they prayed him, saying, "Revive thou Madhumalati!" And he
told them: "Gather ye her bones together, and her ashes, and I will
give her life."
And they having so done, Madhusudam produced the book and read a charm
therefrom; and the heap of ashes and cindered bones shaped itself to
the command, and changed color, and lived, and became a beautiful
woman, sweet as a jasmine-flower--Madhumalati even as she was before
the snake had bitten her!
But the three youths, beholding her smile, were blinded by love, so
that they began to wrangle fiercely together for the sake of her....
Then the Demon said: "O Vikramaditya! to which of these was
she wife? Answer rightly, lest I devour thee."
And the king answered: "Truly she was the wife of him who
had collected her ashes, and taken them with him into the
recesses of the forest, where he built a hut and dwelt alone
with the memory of her."
"Nay!" said the Demon; "how could she have been restored to
life had not the other also preserved her bones? and despite
the piety of those two, how could she have been resurrected
but for the third?"
But the king replied: "Even as the son's duty is to preserve
the bones of his parents, so did he who preserved the
bones of Madhumalati stand to her only in the place of a
son. Even as a father giveth life, so did he who reanimated
Madhumalati stand to her only in the place of a father. But
he who collected her ashes and took them with him into the
recesses of the forest, where he built a hut and dwelt alone
with the memory of her, he was truly her lover and rightful
husband."
...Many other hard questions the Demon also asked,
concerning men who by magic turned themselves into women,
and concerning corpses animated by evil spirits; but the
king answered all of them save one, which indeed admitted of
no answer:
O Vikramaditya, when Mahabal was rajah of Dharmpur, another monarch
strove against him, and destroyed his army in a great battle, and slew
him. And the wife and daughter of the dead king fled to the forest for
safety, and wandered there alone. At that time the rajah Chandrasen was
hunting in the forest, and his son with him; and they beheld the prints
of women's feet upon the ground. Then said Chandrasen: "Surely the feet
of those who have passed here are delicate and beautiful, like those
of women; yet I marvel exceedingly that there should be women in this
desolate place. Let us pursue after them; and if they be beautiful,
I shall take to wife her whose feet have made the smallest of these
tracks, and thou shalt wed the other."
So they came up with the women, and were much charmed with their
beauty; and the rajah Chandrasen married the daughter of the dead
Mahabal, and Chandrasen's son took Mahabat's widow to wife. So that the
father married the daughter of the mother, and the son the mother of
the daughter...
And the Demon asked: "O Vikramaditya, in what manner were
the children of Chandrasen and his son related by these
marriages?" But the king could not answer. And because he
remained silent the Demon was pleased, and befriended him
in a strange and unexpected manner, as it is written in the
"Vetálapanchavinsati."