In olden times there were two kings in Panchāla, one in the north and
the other in the south. The king of North Panchāla, whose name was
Dhana, like a law-observing monarch, ruled according to the law in
Hastināpura, a city which was endowed with wealth, health,
fruitfulness, and greatness of extent and population, and which was
free from disquiet, disorder, uproar, and robbery, in which disease had
quite come to an end, and which was fully provided with rice,
sugar-cane, bullocks, and buffaloes. Moreover in this city there was a
great lake, full of blue, red, and white lotuses, and rendered pleasant
and beautiful by ducks and geese of various kinds. As the Nāga
Janmachitra, [79] who dwelt in this lake, sent down from time to time a
torrent of rain, the land was very fruitful; and as the realm
overflowed with food and drink, the inhabitants, intent upon gifts,
sacrifices, and reverence, bestowed sustenance upon the Śramaṇas and
Brahmans, and the poor and needy.
The king of South Panchāla, who paid no respect to the law, was
haughty, choleric, passionate, and ill-natured. He did not rule in
accordance with the law, and he kept the inhabitants of his realm
constantly in fear by penalties, blows, wounds, executions, arrests,
and bonds, and by intolerance, inaccessibility, and malice of every
kind. As he was overweening and did not rule according to law, the
deity did not let rain fall from time to time, on which account men,
full of fear and despair, deserted the country in troops, and betook
themselves to the realm of the king of North Panchāla.
Some time after this, when the king of South Panchāla had gone to the
chase and had set forth to inspect his domains, he remarked that all
the towns and villages were deserted, and the parks and the temples of
the gods had fallen into decay and ruin. Having observed this, he said
to his ministers, “Honoured sirs, what is the reason of these towns and
villages being deserted, and of the parks and the temples of the gods
having fallen into decay and ruin? and whither have the people gone?”
The ministers replied, “They have gone into the realm of Dhana, the
king of North Panchāla.”
“On what account?”
“Will your majesty accord impunity of speech?”
“Speak, for I accord you impunity.”
Thereupon they said, “Your majesty, as the king of North Panchāla rules
in accordance with the law, his land is great, rich, healthy, fruitful,
densely peopled, free from disquiet, discord, disorder, uproar, and
robbery; diseases have quite disappeared there, it overflows with rice,
sugar-cane, oxen, and buffaloes; and its people, intent upon bestowing
gifts, sacrifices, and reverence, offer sustenance to the Śramaṇas and
Brahmans, and the poor and needy. But as you, your majesty, are
choleric, passionate, and ill-natured, and have kept the inhabitants of
the realm constantly in fear by means of penalties, blows, wounds,
executions, arrests, and bonds, and by intolerance, inaccessibility,
and malice of every kind, therefore have the people, full of fear and
despair, gone into the land of the king of North Panchāla.” The king of
South Panchāla said, “O sirs, what would be a good way of making those
people return and inhabit these towns and villages?” The ministers
replied, “If your majesty, ruling after the fashion of the king of
North Panchāla, will protect the land with gentle, benignant, and
merciful mind, the people will soon return and inhabit these towns and
villages.” The king of South Panchāla said, “Sirs, since this is so, I
will protect the land with gentle, benignant, and merciful mind, ruling
after the fashion of the king of North Panchāla; but do ye take such
measures that the people may come back again and inhabit these towns
and villages.”
“Your majesty, there is yet another cause for the state of things in
Hastināpura. In that city there is a Nāga named Janmachitra, who dwells
in a great lake filled with blue, red, and white lotuses of all kinds,
and adorned with ducks and geese of divers species. As he sends down a
torrent of rain from time to time, the harvest is always abundant and
the soil is extremely fertile, and the land abounds in meat and drink.”
The king said, “Is there no means of summoning that Nāga hither?”
“Your majesty, as he can be conjured hither by men who are versed in
charms and spells, let them perform the deed.”
Thereupon the king fastened a golden basket to the end of a standard,
and ordered proclamation to be made throughout the whole kingdom that
he would give that golden basket to any one who could conjure the Nāga
Janmachitra out of North Panchāla into South Panchāla, and would also
heap upon him a profusion of great honours. After a time a
serpent-charmer appeared before the ministers, and said that if the
golden basket was given to him he would capture and bring in the Nāga
Janmachitra. The ministers ordered the basket to be brought, and the
serpent-charmer said, “I will leave this basket in the hands of a
trustworthy man. Let him give it to me when I bring the Nāga
Janmachitra.” When this had been promised him, the serpent-charmer
placed the golden basket in the hands of a trustworthy man and betook
himself to the city of Hastināpura. Being well versed in signs, he
perceived, after carefully observing the lake all round, that the Nāga
Janmachitra must have his dwelling-place in a certain spot. So he went
to fetch offerings and utensils, and said to the ministers, “Give me
offerings and utensils, and within seven days I will capture and bring
in the Nāga.”
Now the Nāga had seen the serpent-charmer, and had said to himself,
“This man has come to carry me off, and if at the end of seven days I
am carried off, I shall suffer great distress on account of being
severed from my parents. What shall I do? To whom shall I pray for
protection?”
Now there lived in the neighbourhood of the lake two hunters, Masūraka
and Phalaka. Living near the lake, they supported themselves by killing
not only land animals, such as the hares, stags, boars, and so forth
which came to that lake to drink, but also the fish, tortoises, and so
forth which lived in the water. Of these two hunters Masūraka died, but
Phalaka remained alive. As the Nāga Janmachitra came to the conclusion
that there was no one except the hunter Phalaka to whom he could fly
for refuge, he went, after assuming the form of a man, to the hunter
Phalaka, and said to him, “O friend, if King Dhana’s realm is vast,
rich, healthy, fruitful, and populous, and overflows with rice,
sugar-cane, oxen, and buffaloes (as was said above), do you know
through whose power this has come to pass?” The hunter answered, “Well
do I know that this takes place because that king rules in accordance
with the law, and protects his land with gentle, benignant, and
merciful mind.” The Nāga said, “Does all this arise from that cause
only, or from some other cause as well?” The hunter said, “There is
another cause as well. In this lake lives the Nāga Janmachitra, who
from time to time sends down a torrent of rain, in consequence of which
the soil becomes extremely fertile, and is replete with food and
drink.” Janmachitra said, “If this Nāga were to be taken away from this
land by any one, he would no longer be able to be of service, and he
would be very wretched on account of being separated from his parents.
What would the king and the inhabitants of the land do if he were to be
carried off? what would you do?”
“We should perish.”
“Do you know who this Nāga is?”
“No!”
“I am he, and a serpent-charmer from South Panchāla wishes to carry me
off. He has gone back to fetch offerings and utensils, and will return
in seven days. He will then drive pegs of Khadira-wood [80] into the
shore of the lake at its four corners, will hang up various threads of
different colours, and will recite spells. During that time you must
remain hidden somewhere near. But when, as he is performing a ceremony
of this kind, the waters of the lake begin to seethe and overflow, and
I come forth from them, then you must bend your bow against the
serpent-charmer, and run up to him quickly and say, ‘Reverse the spell.
If you do not do so I shall sever your head from your body and send it
to the bottom of the lake.’ But if he dies without reversing the spell,
then, even after his death, I shall remain bound by its force all my
life long.” The hunter said, “As I would have done this of my own
accord, were it merely for the sake of doing you a service, how much
the more shall I be ready to protect you, inasmuch as I shall be doing
a service to the whole kingdom. Say no more.”
The Nāga then took up his abode in a lonely spot. When seven days had
passed, the hunter hid himself near that place. The serpent-charmer
came and began to prepare the offerings and utensils, driving in the
pegs of Khadira-wood at the four corners, attaching various threads of
divers colours, and reciting spells. When the water began to seethe,
the hunter sped an arrow from his bow, and then drew his sword from its
sheath and cried, “Will you carry off the Nāga who dwells in our land
by means of spells? Reverse your spell. If you do not, I will sever
your head from your body and send it to the bottom of the lake.” The
serpent-charmer, experiencing pain and grief induced by anguish and
fear of death, reversed the spell, whereupon the hunter instantly
killed him. When the Nāga was thus freed from the power of the spell,
he came forth from the lake, embraced the hunter, and thus addressed
him, “You are my mother, you are my father. In this wise am I, in that
I trusted in you, spared the pain of being separated from my parents.
Come, let us go to them.” He led him to their abode, regaled him with
meats and drinks of divers kinds, presented him with jewels, and then
said to his parents, “This man has become my refuge, my friend, and my
kinsman. Through his means I have been saved from separation from you.”
The parents also let him have all he wished for, and presented him with
precious things of all kinds. These he took away with him, and then
came forth from the lake.
Not far from the lake was a hermitage, rich in flowers, and fruits, and
birds which uttered varied notes. Therein a Rishi abode, full of
gentleness, mercy, and kindness towards living creatures. To this Rishi
the hunter was wont to go daily, in the morning, at midday, and in the
evening. To him he gave a full account of what had taken place between
him and the Nāga Janmachitra. The Rishi said to him, “What need have
you of jewels and gold? That habitation contains the Amogha-chain [81]
(i.e., that which holds fast). You must ask for that.” As a desire for
that Amogha-chain arose within the hunter’s mind, he followed the
advice of the Rishi, and again betook himself to the abode of the
Nāgas. There he saw the Amogha-chain at the entrance of the Nāgas’
abode, and perceiving that it was the chain which he wanted, he entered
into the abode. The Nāga Janmachitra and the other Nāgas were
delighted, and they gave him jewels. But he said, “Jewels I want not;
rather give me the Amogha-chain.” Janmachitra replied, “What need have
you of it? To us it is most needful. When the Garuḍa plagues us, it is
to this chain that we are indebted for safety.” The hunter said, “As ye
are but seldom threatened with danger from the Garuḍa, therefore it is
not so very necessary for you. But I am constantly in want of it.
Therefore give it to me, if ye are mindful of the benefit conferred and
the service performed.” The Nāga Janmachitra said, “As this man has
done me a great service, I will give him the chain, after I have asked
my father and mother.” After asking his parents, he give him the chain.
Thereupon the hunter, as if he had recovered himself, returned home
from the Nāgas’ abode with the Amogha-chain, full of happiness and joy.
King Dhana and his wife had neither son nor daughter. It happened once
that he sat, resting his cheek upon his hand, absorbed by the thought
that, since he had neither son nor daughter, his family would be
extinct after his death, the treasures heaped up within his house would
pass into other hands, and another king would rule over all that had
been his. As he sat there thus absorbed in meditation, the Śramaṇas and
Brahmans, his friends, companions, and kinsmen, asked him why he was so
downcast. When he had fully explained the whole matter to them, they
said, “Be pleased to pray to the gods. Then will a son be born unto
you.” As he had no son, but desired to have one, he prayed to Śiva and
Varuṇa, to Kuvera and Vasudeva, and so forth, also to various other
gods, to the gods of the parks, the gods of the forest, the gods of the
crossways, the gods of the three ways, the gods who accept oblations,
the ever-accompanying gods, and the gods like-minded and identical in
date of birth. It is generally said that sons and daughters are born in
consequence of such prayers, not otherwise; a thousand sons, for
instance, may be born to a world-ruling prince when such prayers have
been offered.
Praying in such a manner, Dhana obtained a hearing, and a Bodisat of
the Bhadrakalpa entered into the womb of his good spouse. Some women
who are endowed with insight possess five peculiar characteristics, one
of which is that they know whether their child will be a boy or a girl.
If it is a boy, it clings to the right side, and if a girl, to the
left. Full of joy, spake the queen to her husband, “O lord, as the
living being which has entered within me clings to the right side, and
will certainly be a boy, therefore rejoice.”
The king joyfully drew himself up, and stretched out his right arm, and
said, “I shall behold the son whom I have long been desiring. As he
will soon be born unto me, he will carry on my work, extend still more
widely what has been acquired, and as my heir more widely propagate my
race. And when we shall have died, whether we have presented many or
few gifts and acquired much or little merit, it will follow after us in
that place in which we shall both be born again, and our recompense
will ripen through union.”
Thus did he joyfully exclaim. As he knew that conception had taken
place, he took care, in order that the existence in the mother’s womb
might be allowed to develop thoroughly, that there should be in his
palace during the cold weather preservatives against cold, during the
hot weather preservatives against heat. According to the directions of
the physician, he provided food which was not too bitter, too sour, too
salt, too sweet, too hot, or too acid—food which was without
bitterness, sourness, saltness, sweetness, heat, or acidity. With
strings of pearls of various kinds and with other ornaments he adorned
the body of his wife, like unto an Apsaras wandering in the Nandana
grove; and he made seats and seats, stools and stools, to prevent her
from falling on the ground, and he ordered care to be taken that she
should not hear the slightest unpleasant noise.
When eight or nine months had gone by, a boy was born of noble form and
lovely aspect, fair and gleaming like unto gold in colour, with a head
like a canopy, long arms, a brow of great width, interlacing eyebrows,
a high-arched nose, and provided with the full complement of limbs and
joints. When the joy-drum was beaten at the birth, the king heard it,
and asked what that meant. His wives said, “Be of good cheer, your
majesty; unto thee a son is born.” Thereupon the king ordered all
stones, gravel, and rubble to be cast forth from the city, the streets
to be swept and sprinkled with sandal-water, standards and banners to
be set up, extremely fragrant incense to be provided, flowers to be
strewed, as though he had been delighted by various dreams, gifts to be
bestowed upon the Śramaṇas, the Brahmans, the poor and the needy, and
freedom to be given to all prisoners. After thrice seven days, on the
twenty-first day, he appointed a great birth-feast. When the question
was raised as to what name should be given to the boy, the ministers
said, “As this boy is the son of King Dhana, he must be named Sudhana;”
and so the name of Sudhana was given to him. The boy Sudhana was handed
over to eight nurses, two to carry him, two to suckle him, two to
cleanse him, and two to play with him. As these eight nurses fed him
and brought him up on milk, both sweet and curdled, on butter, both
fresh and clarified, on butter-foam, [82] and on the best of other
things, he shot up rapidly like a lotus in a tank. By the time he was
grown up he was acquainted with reading and writing, expert at the
eight testings and distinguishings, and adroit in his manners; and he
was skilled in the five arts, like a king who, coming of the Kshatriya
caste and wearing the crown, zealously exercises over men power and
might, and, if he rules over this orb, ought to be versed in the
various divisions of knowledge and action, as was above mentioned.
His father bestowed upon him three wives—a first wife, a middle wife,
and a last wife—and built for his use three separate palaces, for
winter, spring, and summer; and in like manner he provided him with
parks of three kinds, for winter, spring, and summer. There the young
Sudhana, when he went alone, without any retinue, into the upper storey
of the palace, diverted and enjoyed himself to the sound of musical
instruments.
It happened once that the hunter Phalaka, as he roamed to and fro in
search after game, arrived at a certain mountain, and at the foot of
this mountain he perceived a Rishi’s hermitage, rich in flowers and
fruit. Around it fluttered birds of divers kinds, and there was near it
a lake provided with red and white lotuses, and with geese and various
kinds of ducks. As he was about to roam over this place of seclusion,
he saw a Rishi with long hair on his head and body, and with long nails
and a long beard, sitting in a grass hut under a tree. On seeing him he
touched the Rishi’s feet with his head, joined the palms of his hands,
and said, “Venerable one, how long have you been in this place?”
“Forty years.”
“While you have remained here, have you seen or heard anything strange
or wonderful?”
The Rishi, calm of mood, deliberately replied, “Friend, do you see that
lake?”
“Venerable one, I see it.”
“That is the Brahmasabhā pool, filled with blue, red, and white
lotuses, haunted by swarms of different kinds of birds, extremely rich
in waters resembling silver, snow, and hoarfrost in colour. To this
pool in the midst of the most fragrant flowers, there comes on the
fifteenth day of the month Manoharā the daughter of Druma, the king of
the Kinnarīs. Surrounded by five hundred Kinnarīs, she comes in order
to bathe, after having washed and anointed her head. During the time of
the bath they dance, sing, and make sweet music resound, such as
enchants even the beasts of the forest. Even I myself, when I have
heard these sounds, experience pleasure and delight for seven whole
days. This maiden, O friend, I have seen.”
The hunter Phalaka said to himself, “As I have obtained the
Amogha-chain from the Nāga, I will cast it around the Kinnarī
Manoharā.” He came, accordingly, after a time, on the fifteenth of the
month, bringing the Amogha-chain with him, concealed himself in a
thicket not far from the lake, among fruits, flowers, and foliage, and
kept watch. When Manoharā, surrounded by five hundred Kinnarīs, with
befitting equipments, went into the Brahmasabhā lake to bathe, the
hunter Phalaka straightway cast the Amogha-chain, and caught the
Kinnarī Manoharā. Held by the chain, she began to bound and to run in
the water and to utter shrieks of terror. Hearing these, the Kinnarī
band broke up. Looking upon Manoharā, the Kinnarīs saw that she was
taken prisoner, and they fled away terrified.
The hunter gazed at Manoharā, who was of an exquisitely proportioned
figure and of a lovely countenance, and having gazed at her, he was
about to draw near and lay hands upon her; but she said, “Man of low
station, touch me not. I am not destined to marry you. As I am worthy
of a king of goodly form, you must not lay hands upon me.” The hunter
said, “If I do not lay hands upon you you will flee away.” She replied,
“I will not flee away. If you will not trust me, take this head-jewel,
by means of which I fly heavenwards.” The hunter said, “Who can tell
that?” She gave him the head-jewel and said, “I shall always be in the
power of him whose hand holds this jewel.” The hunter took the jewel,
and led her away with him, just as if she had been secured by bonds.
About this time the youth Sudhana went forth to the chase one day. The
hunter saw the youth Sudhana, who was handsome in form and of pleasant
aspect; and having seen him he said to himself, “As this is Prince
Sudhana, and as he is of goodly form and pleasant aspect, and as he,
when he has looked upon this maiden, will take her to wife, I will of
my own accord offer her to him as a present.” So he led her, just as if
she had been secured by bonds, to Prince Sudhana, and said, after
touching his feet, “I offer unto you as a present this gem of a wife;
be pleased to accept the gift.” Prince Sudhana looked upon the Kinnarī
Manoharā. She was of goodly form and pleasing countenance, with a
complexion of remarkable brilliance and with all good properties,
adorned with the eighteen signs of the woman, more beautiful than the
children of men; the breasts wide apart, and arched like the tortoise
Hiraṇyakumbha, firm, plump, extremely round and elastic; the eyes light
blue, with small red veins and of elongated form, like young lotuses;
the arch of the nose long and high; the lips like coral, gems, pearls,
in form like the Bimba fruit; the chin ample and firm; the cheeks
marked by very attractive moles; the eyebrows beautifully interlacing,
black as a swarm of bees; the arms long and rounded like the spotless
full moon; the belly a little overhanging with three deep folds; the
upper part of the body a little bent from the down-hanging of the
breasts, the under part beautifully formed like a disk; the hands like
unto the pith of the banana tree; the legs beautiful from their
delicacy and the rounding off of the calves; the veins scarcely visible
and free from all crookedness, so that all the limbs were fair to see,
proudly moving to the sound of the richly jewel-studded ornaments of
the head, neck, and feet, and the many strings of pearls; the hair
black and smooth, like unto Sachī, the feet adorned with ornaments;
wearing a golden girdle, many strings of pearls hanging down at the
belly, the complexion gleaming fair as gold.
No sooner had the youth set eyes on her than he was suddenly enchained
by the bonds of passion—passion which, like the pure and spotless moon
reflected in water, is, on account of its unstable nature, not easily
to be grasped, and like a sea-monster in a billowy torrent, is not
easily to be distinguished, which steps along like the Garuḍa or the
flow of the wind, which flies about swiftly with a lightness resembling
that of cotton, which, like a monkey, is always in motion, never
resting in any place. When the arrow of passion, which is ever
connected with woes and with longing to enjoy the bliss of love,
without letting itself be warned off from the abyss of misfortune due
to all those woes—when this arrow strikes the heart, shot from the
careless bow with a scarcely audible sound arising from the longing
after a meeting, then, completely befooled by senses which hang upon
the fair one, a man falls, like a moth, into the flame. As in summer
the lightning flashes from out of the rain-cloud, so did the dart of
love strike Sudhana when he looked upon her whose countenance was like
unto the moon. Then Prince Sudhana took Manoharā and brought her to the
city of Hastināpura, and to the hunter he gave a splendid city.
Ascending with Manoharā to the upper storey of the palace, the youth
Sudhana spent his time with her in pleasure and sport; and by the
hundredfold force of Manoharā’s youth, beauty, and respect for him, the
youth Sudhana was immediately and irresistibly captivated.
After a time two Brahmans wandered that way, one of whom attached
himself to the king, the other to Sudhana. The Brahman who attached
himself to the king was appointed a Purohita [83] by the king, who also
bestowed much property upon him. But only a little property was given
to him who attached himself to Prince Sudhana. The prince’s Brahman
said to him, “O youth, what will you do for me when, after your
father’s death, you are made king?” The youth Sudhana replied, “As your
companion has been appointed my father’s Purohita, I will appoint you
also to be a Purohita.” As this conversation of theirs was passed on by
one man to another, it came to the ears of the Brahman who was the
Purohita. He said to himself, “If I can manage so that the youth does
not acquire the sovereign power, there will no longer be any question
as to the appointment to the Purohitaship.”
It came to pass afterwards that the mountaineers of the king’s realm
rebelled. The king sent a general to subdue them, but he returned
completely overcome and vanquished. Just the same happened to seven
other generals whom the king sent out. The ministers said to the king,
“Wherefore, your majesty, do you allow your forces to dwindle away and
the power of the foe to increase? Be pleased to order out all who are
capable of bearing arms within your realm.” The Brahman who was the
Purohita thought that this was the time for bringing about Sudhana’s
death, so he said to the king, “There can be no doubt that in that wise
defeat will take place.” The king said, “What am I to do then? Ought I
to march out myself?” The Purohita said, “Your majesty, why should you
go yourself? As the youth Sudhana has come to man’s estate, and is
proud of his strength and courage, you can send him out with the
troops.” The king said, “I will do so.” Thereupon the king summoned the
youth, and said to him, “O youth, march forth with the troops and
subdue the mountaineers.” “Your majesty, I will act in accordance with
your commands.”
Having thus spoken, Sudhana prepared to obey his father. On betaking
himself to the zenana, he saw Manoharā there, and not only forgot all
his other wives, but also, as soon as he saw her, forgot the commands
laid upon him by the king. Thereupon the Purohita said to the king,
“Your majesty, as there can be no doubt that the youth Sudhana is
deeply in love with Manoharā, let the troops be drawn up, and order the
youth, when he comes forth from the zenana, to set out on the march
without going to see Manoharā again.” The king said to the ministers,
“Honoured sirs, equip the host.” The ministers obeyed the orders of the
king, and equipped the hosts, elephants, horses, chariots, and
infantry, well provided with many kinds of weapons and appurtenances.
Then they summoned the youth, saying to him, “O youth, as the troops
are ready, come forth from thence.” He said, “Your majesty, I will go
forth when I have seen Manoharā.”
The king said, “O youth, do not go to see her, for that would give rise
to delay.”
“If that be so, I will set out when I have seen my mother.”
“O youth, your mother you may see.”
Sudhana took Manoharā’s head-jewel, went to his mother, touched her
feet, and said, “O mother, as I am setting out to subdue the
mountaineers, do you keep this jewel with the utmost secrecy, and do
not give it to Manoharā except in a case of life and death.” After
saying these words to his mother, and taking leave of her, he set forth
with the army to the sound of music. After gradually advancing for some
time, he halted under a tree at no great distance from the
mountaineers. Just at that time the Mahārāja Vaiśravaṇa was going to a
Yaksha meeting, together with many Yakshas, many hundreds, many
thousands, many hundreds of thousands of Yakshas. As he drove along,
and was delayed upon the celestial road, he said to himself, “Often as
I have driven along this road, yet has my chariot never once been
delayed. What can be the cause of its being delayed now?”
Perceiving the youth Sudhana, he thought, “This is a Bodisat of the
Bhadrakalpa, who has gone forth to war and will be in difficulty. I
will assist him, and subdue the mountaineers without living creatures
being exposed to danger.” So he summoned Pānchika, the
commander-in-chief of the Yakshas, and said to him, “Pānchika, come
here. Contrive so that the youth Sudhana may subdue the mountaineers
without a battle being fought or injury being inflicted upon living
creatures.” The Yaksha commander-in-chief Pānchika listened to the
orders of Vaiśravaṇa, and said, “I will act in accordance with your
commands.” Then he conjured up the four contingents of the divine host,
men of the stature of palm trees, elephants of the size of mountains,
horses as large as elephants, and chariots as bulky as the palace of
the gods Vimāna. Together with his mighty host, spreading great alarm
by means of all kinds of weapons, such as swords, mallets, javelins,
lances, disks, maces, arrows, battle-axes, and so forth, and through
the clang of all sorts of musical instruments, Pānchika moved onwards
towards the mountaineers, whose walls gave way in consequence of the
uproar made by the elephants, the horses, and the chariots, and of the
clangings of all kinds, and of the power of the Yakshas. Seeing these
hosts, and perceiving that their walls had given way, the mountaineers
were greatly astonished, and asked the hosts whence they came. They
replied, “Open the gates with all speed. The youth Sudhana is on the
march behind us, and we are his army. If you do not open your gates
with all speed, everything will be overthrown.” The mountaineers said,
“We did not rebel against the king. Moreover, the youth is judicious;
but we have been reduced to fear and anxiety by the king’s officials.”
Then they opened the gates, and went forth to meet the youth Sudhana,
with banners and standards displayed, with full urns, and to the sound
of all manner of instruments. After he had taken rest, he called them
to him, nominated chiefs, fixed taxes, and took hostages. Then, having
subdued the mountaineers, the youth Sudhana returned home.
That same night King Dhana dreamt this dream. A vulture came flying up,
tore open the king’s belly, seized his entrails, and wound them around
the whole city. And the seven treasures came into the palace. Terrified
by this dream, with creeping skin and unquiet mind, he rose swiftly
from his couch, and sat down in his sleeping chamber, his head leaning
on his hand, absorbed in meditation as to whether he was about to lose
his sovereign power or whether he was about to die. In the morning he
told his dream to the Purohita, who came to the conclusion that, as the
king had dreamt such a dream, the youth must certainly have subdued the
mountaineers, and that it was the Purohita’s business to devise some
means for his destruction, so he said to the king, “What your majesty
has seen in this dream is not good. There is no doubt that either you
will lose your sovereignty, or your life will be placed in danger.
There is, however, a means of averting this evil. I have found it in
the mystic lore of the Brahmans.” “What is the means of averting it?”
“Your majesty, let a tank be dug in the park, a man’s height in depth,
and let it be lined with mortar, and when all is smooth, let it be
filled with the blood of young roes. Then, when you go there to bathe,
you will enter the tank as far as the first step, and when you have
descended to the first step you will go down to the second step, and
after you have descended to the second step you will go on to the third
step, and when you have descended to the third step you will go down to
the fourth step. Then must four Brahmans, perfectly versed in the Veda
and Vedānga, lick your feet with their tongues, and anoint them with
the fat of a non-human being (i.e., a demon). In this wise will all
that is sinful in your nature become purified, and you will long retain
your sovereignty.” The king said, “All this may possibly be carried
out, but yet demon-fat is very rare.” The Purohita said, “Your majesty,
is that a rarity which it is possible to find?” The king said, “What
does that mean?” The Purohita said, “Your majesty, is Manoharā a human
or a non-human being?” The king said, “O Purohita, speak not so; for
the youth’s life depends upon her.” The Purohita said, “Your majesty,
have you not heard that for the sake of the house should one of its
inmates be given up, for the sake of the city should the house be given
up, for the sake of the country should the city be given up, for the
sake of one’s own self should the country be given up? [84] If you, O
king, are firm, you can bestow another wife on the discerning youth,
and cause Manoharā to be put to death.”
As the king, out of self-love, did not wish any means to be neglected,
he acquiesced and ordered the preparations to be made according to the
Purohita’s directions, the tank to be dug, lined with mortar and
glazed, and filled with the blood of roes and so forth. When Sudhana’s
wives saw these preparations, cheerfulness and joy sprang up within
them. “As we also,” they said, “shall acquire exquisite beauty if we
avail ourselves of this, we shall be able to partake of great enjoyment
with the youth Sudhana.” As they spoke joyfully to this effect,
Manoharā saw them, and asked wherefore they were so delighted. One of
them explained the whole matter to Manoharā. Thereupon pain and
displeasure sprang up within her, and she betook herself to Sudhana’s
mother, and touched her feet, and told her the whole story in words
provocative of sympathy. The queen said, “As these things are so,
ponder over them well, and I will ponder over them also.”
When Manoharā had reflected and spoken, and the queen also had
considered the matter, and had decided that it was right so to do, she
gave Manoharā the head-jewel and a garment, and said, “Child, I was to
give you this jewel only if your life was in danger. In the present
circumstances I shall be beyond reproach.”
After a time, all things having been prepared for the bath according to
the command of the king, he entered the blood-filled tank and came
forth from it again, and then the Brahmans licked his feet with their
tongues. When, subsequently to this, all things had been set in order
for the bath according to the commands of the king, and he had entered
the blood-filled tank and emerged from it again, then the tongues of
the Brahmans licked his feet. After that the supernatural being was
brought forward. When Manoharā was ordered to draw nearer, she
immediately rose heavenwards, saying, “After being seized and bound,
after having laughed and played, like a cow freed from its bonds, will
I flee away.” When the king saw her sweeping through the air, fear came
upon him, and he said to the Purohita, “How comes it that the Kinnarī
Manoharā has flown away before our preparations were carried into
effect?” The Purohita said, “Your majesty, the end is now attained, and
your nature is made free from sin.”
While Manoharā was wending her way through the air she said to herself,
“The directions of the Rishi were the cause of my passing into this
condition. Had he not given these directions I should not have been
captured. So I will go to him for awhile.” On reaching the Rishi’s
hermitage she touched his feet and said, “Great Rishi, in consequence
of your directions, I have been captured and exposed to the touch of
man, and have nearly lost my life. Now then, if the youth Sudhana
should happen to come here in search of me, give him my ring, and say
to him these words: ‘O youth, turn back again, for the way is full of
woe and hard to tread. But if you cannot turn back, it is right to show
you the way. Thus, O youth, does Manoharā point it out. In the north
there are three black mountains. When these are surmounted, there rise
three more. When these three have been surmounted, there rise three
more again. And when these three also have been surmounted, there
remains the prince of mountains, Himavant. On its north side are the
mountains Utkīlaka, Jalapatha, Khadiraka, Ekadāraka, Vajraka,
Kāmarūpin, Kīlaka, Airāvata, Adhovāna, and Pramuchapa. Over these
mountains you must make your way. Traverse Khadiraka, Ekadāraka, and
Utkīlaka by the cavern. The king of the birds will carry you over
Vajraka. In such a way will you traverse these mountains. You will
overcome magic creatures, ram-like and goat-faced, and also a man
having the form of the Rākshasa Pingalā. In the cavern is a huge snake,
which rolls with the force of a foaming stream. This snake you must
tame by force. When you see the black snake half coiling in the cavern,
you must slay it, bending the bow and shooting the arrow. When you see
two rams butting one another, break a horn off each of them, and you
will find the way. If you see two iron men with fear-inspiring weapons,
and you slay one of them, you will find the way. If you see an
iron-lipped Rākshasī opening and shutting her mouth, you must fling a
wedge at her forehead. Likewise must you spring across the fount with
the wild whirlpool, which measures sixty fathoms. Bending your bow, you
must slay Yakshas and Rākshasas with lion-yellow hair and eyes,
difficult to resist and hard to approach. Many rivers, also, full of
tens of thousands of alligators, must you cross. You will see the
Crocodile, the Butterfly, the Sad, the Gay, the Weeper, the Laugher, a
river full of snakes, and another full of reeds. In the Crocodile is
Rākshasī-anger, in the Butterfly a demon, in the Sad are many
water-monsters, in the Gay is a Vidyādhara, in the Weeper is a Kinnarī
serving-maid, in the Laugher is a Kinnarī, in the snake-filled river
are many snakes, in the river rich in reeds is Śālmali [the Seemul or
silk-cotton tree]. In the presence of the Crocodile [river] you must
stand firm, and be bold in that of the Butterfly. On reaching the Sad,
you must bind the jaws of the water-monsters. With the Gay you will
succeed by the help of some Nāgas, with the Weeper by means of courage,
with the Laugher by means of silence. The snake-filled river you must
pass by means of snake-charms, and the reed-producing river by means of
the charm of sharp weapons beaten together. [85] Having crossed all the
rivers, you will come to a wild country wherein five hundred Yakshas
dwell. Opposing these, overcome them. Then will appear the capital of
the Kinnarī king. To him address yourself.’” Having spoken these words
to the Rishi, Manoharā touched his feet with her head and went away.
Great was the joy when the king heard that the youth Sudhana had
returned to Hastināpura with the army after subduing the mountaineers.
As soon as the youth had rested, he went to his father, made obeisance,
and took his place before him. The king began to speak with great joy,
and said, “O youth, have you been successful?”
“Your majesty, through your grace have the mountaineers been overcome,
hostages have been taken, and chiefs appointed. Tribute and taxes have
also been levied. Be pleased to have all this taken into the treasury.”
The king said, “O son, as you have done well, I will receive these
things.” Then the son made obeisance to his father, and was about to
depart when the king said, “Stay, O youth, in order to take food with
your father.”
“Your majesty, as it is a long time since I saw Manoharā, I wish to go
to her.”
“O youth, put off going to her for to-day and go to-morrow.”
“Father, I will certainly go to-day,” said the youth, moving restlessly
this way and that. Whereupon the king made no reply.
When the youth entered his house, and did not see the fair one at the
door of the women’s chamber, he was utterly cast down. As he did not
see Manoharā, his mind became disordered, and he ran hither and
thither, calling out, “Manoharā! Manoharā!” When the women had repeated
these words to the winds, and he in his grief of heart had many times
questioned them, they told him the whole story. Clouded over was his
mind with grief. The women said, “Why should you be so cast down? In
the band of women are those who are much more beautiful than she was.”
When he had learnt how cruelly his father had acted, he went to his
mother, touched her feet, and said, “O mother, as Manoharā is not here,
Manoharā who was endowed with every virtue that could be wished for,
and endowed with admirable beauty, where then has she gone? Thinking
ever so rapidly, I am all confused in mind. On account of being
separated from her my mind is exceedingly sad. As Manoharā dwells
within my mind, pleasing to my mind and my mind’s joy, as through
separation from Manoharā my body is saddened, what is there that will
make my pain diminish?” His mother said, “O son, as intolerable fear
came upon Manoharā, I let her go away.” “Mother, how did that come to
pass?” His mother gave him a complete account of the matter. He said,
“That was a cruel misdeed on my father’s part.” He said, moreover,
“Mother, whither has she gone? which way lies the road?” His mother
replied, “The road which Manoharā has taken is that of the mountains
where Rishis and lions ever dwell, and which are the abode of the
Dharma-rāja.” [86] In his intolerable grief at being separated from
Manoharā, the prince renewed his sad wailings, crying, “As Manoharā is
not here, Manoharā who was endowed with every virtue that could be
desired,” and so on down to the words, “What is there that will make my
pain diminish?” Then his mother said, “My son, as there are women in
this band of wives who are more beautiful than she is, wherefore are
you sad?” The youth replied, “Mother, how can I be happy if I find her
not?”
Although his mother tried to console him, he still remained sad; but as
he wandered hither and thither, looking for Manoharā and seeking for
information as to her abode, a bright idea occurred to him. “Where I
obtained her,” he thought, “there will I go again and make inquiries.”
So he went to the hunter Phalaka, and asked him where it was that he
had got possession of Manoharā. The hunter replied, “On the slope of
such and such a mountain dwells a Rishi, in whose hermitage there is a
pool, Brahmasabhā by name. Going there to bathe, I captured her
according to the Rishi’s directions.” Sudhana said to himself, “I will
go to the Rishi’s abode, and there obtain information.” Hearing that
the youth was greatly depressed by his separation from Manoharā, the
king said, “O youth, wherefore are you so depressed? I will now give
you a much more beautiful wife.” The prince replied, “Father, as she is
not here, I shall certainly betake me to her tarrying-place.” The king
could not dissuade him from this, though he repeatedly attempted to do
so. Then the king ordered watchers to be set at the gates and outlets
from the walls, in order to prevent the youth from going forth.
Thereupon the youth could not sleep the whole night long. Five are
there who on their nightly couch are sleepless all night long, namely,
the man whose mind is enchained by love for his wife, the wife who
loves her husband, the red duck, the robber chieftain, the Bhikshu who
studies zealously. The youth said to himself, “If I go to the gate, the
king’s gatekeepers are harsh. As they would punish me, or even deprive
me of life, I would rather depart by a road which has no watchers.” So
he went forth by night to a spot where no watcher was, having attached
to a standard such blue lotus garlands as men bind around their heads.
Just then the moon rose. When he saw the moon, he uttered this lament
for his separation from Manoharā, “O full moon, king of the stars and
illuminer of the night, thou who art dear to the eye of Rohiṇī, [87]
excellent caravan-leader, hast thou seen the abiding-place of my loved
one, the lotus-eyed Manoharā?”
Remembering the joys he had formerly experienced, he walked on, and
when he saw a gazelle, he addressed it also, saying, “O gazelle, thou
who enjoyest grass, water, and foliage, wander in peace and quiet, for
I am no hunter. Hast not thou seen my deer-like, long-eyed, beautifully
formed Manoharā?” Going on farther, and reaching another spot, he saw
bees at work in the interior of a wood adorned with flowers and fruits,
and to one of the bees he said, “O bee, thou who art blue, like unto
the mountains, thou who abidest within hollow canes and upon lotuses,
hast thou seen my Manoharā, her of the long hair, dark of hue, like
unto bees?” Going still farther he saw a snake, and when he saw it he
said, “O snake, thou who movest thy tongue as a forest tree its leaves,
thou who emittest from thy mouth and eyes masses of smoke, hast thou
seen her who is unlike thy poison-fire and the fire of passion? hast
thou seen my Manoharā?” He went on still farther, and he heard a Kokila
calling in the forest, and seeing it, he said, “O Kokila, thou who
abidest on the magnificent trees of the forest, king of the troops of
birds, hast not thou seen her who is endowed with the lovely, spotless
eyes, like unto blue lotuses? hast not thou seen my Manoharā?” Going
still farther on, he saw an Aśoka tree widely spreading forth its
leaves, and when he saw it he said, “Thou who art called after
happiness, [88] and who art the great king of the trees, troubled by
grief for Manoharā, I clasp my hands. Do thou dispel my grief.”
After this fashion, with troubled mind, he at length arrived at the
hermitage of the Rishi. And when he had meekly paid reverence to the
Rishi, he said, “O thou who art exalted through endurance, thou who art
clothed in the bark of trees and the skins of wild beasts, thou who
feedest on roots and sprouts, the Vilva tree and the Kapittha tree.
[89] O Rishi, I pay thee reverence, bowing my head. Hast thou seen my
Manoharā? Tell me quickly.” Then the Rishi said to the youth Sudhana,
“Welcome!” And after unfolding a carpet and making preparations for a
friendly reception, he continued, “I have seen her who is endowed with
smooth, interlacing eyebrows, who possesses a comely form, a face
resembling the full moon, and eyes like unto blue lotuses. Take your
seat upon the carpet, and partake of these different kinds of roots and
berries. There is no doubt in my mind that you will obtain happiness in
the future. Thus spake she of the beautiful eyebrows: ‘I have learnt
that the youth, rendered unhappy by longing, although a dweller in the
forest, affected by great sorrow, will come to you.’ Then she gave me
this ring and said, ‘As the way which leads to me is full of woe and
hard to tread, he can turn back. But if he cannot bring himself to turn
back, then you must direct him on his way.’ And she spoke as follows:
‘In the north there are three black mountains. When these are
surmounted, there are three more on the other side; and when these
three have been surmounted, there are again three more; and when these
three also have been surmounted, there remains the king of mountains,
Himavant. Here are certain remedies to be obtained. There is the remedy
nectar. [90] When it has been boiled in melted butter, he who drinks it
will feel neither hunger nor thirst, and will increase in memory and
strength. There is also a monkey which must be carried away; there are
spells which must be learnt; and there are also to be carried away a
bow and arrows, a gleaming jewel, a deadly poison and a remedy, three
iron wedges, and a lyre. On the north side of Himavant, king of
mountains, is Mount Utkīlaka, and beyond are Mounts Jalapatha,
Khadiraka, Ekadāraka, Vajraka, Kāmarūpin, Utkīlaka, Airāvata, Adhovāna,
and Pramuchaka. These mountains you must climb, but to pass Khadiraka,
Ekadāraka, and Utkīlaka you must traverse a cavern, and over Vajraka
will the king of the birds convey you. In this way will you cross the
mountains. Magic creatures, ram-like and goat-faced, and a man who has
the form of the Rākshasa Pingalā, you must overcome. In the cavern is a
snake which rolls with the strength of a foaming stream, and this you
must overcome by force. Where there is a black snake, and you see half
of it in the cavern, you must bend your bow and let fly your arrow and
kill it. When you see two rams butting one another, break a horn off
each of them and you will find your way. When you see two iron men
holding fear-inspiring weapons, strike down one of them and you will
find your way. When you see a Rākshasī with iron lips opening and
shutting her mouth, fling a wedge at her forehead. Then you must leap
across the fount with the wild whirlpool, which measures sixty fathoms.
You must bend your bow and slay Yakshas and Rākshasas with lion-yellow
hair and eyes, difficult to resist and hard to approach. Many rivers,
also, filled with alligators, must you cross. There are the Crocodile,
the Butterfly, the Sad, the Gay, the Weeper, the Laugher, a river full
of snakes, and a river rich in reeds. In the Crocodile is
Rākshasī-anger, in the Butterfly is a demon, in the Sad are many
water-monsters, in the Gay is a Vidyādhara, in the Weeper a Kinnarī
serving-maid, in the Laugher is a Kinnarī, in the snake-filled river
are many snakes, in the river rich in reeds is Śālmali. In the presence
of the Crocodile you must stand firm, and you must be bold in the
presence of the Butterfly. On reaching the Sad, you must bind the jaws
of the water-monsters. With the Gay you will succeed by the help of
some Nāgas, with the Weeper by means of courage, with the Laugher by
means of silence. You will cross the snake-filled river by means of the
charm against snakes, and the river rich in reeds by means of the magic
of sharp weapons struck together. When you have crossed the rivers and
reached a land rich in bushes, you must oppose and overcome five
hundred Yakshas who dwell there. There stands the capital of the
Kinnarī king. Go and speak with him.’”
Thereupon the youth Sudhana touched the Rishi’s feet with his head, and
went away in order to seek the remedies, spells, and antidotes
indicated to him. When he had obtained all but the monkey, he came back
with them to the Rishi. The Rishi gave him a monkey and said, “O youth,
why do you trouble yourself so much? Wherefore is Manoharā so necessary
to you. Alone, without companions, you will surely lose your life.” The
youth replied, “Great Rishi, I shall surely go, and why? Where has the
heaven-traversing moon a companion? The king of the beasts, endowed
with strength of tusks, and the fire which burns the forest—where are
their companions? Wherefore should a strength like mine require a
companion? What! shall not men trust themselves to the great ocean
wave? Shall not one heal the hand which a snake has bitten? If a
vigorous being struggles to the utmost, no blame can be found with the
pains taken, even though they may not be successful.”
Thereupon the youth Sudhana, provided with the various objects
indicated by Manoharā, set forth. He passed in their turn the rivers,
the caverns, and the abysses, assisted by the remedies, the spells, and
the antidotes, and he came into the neighbourhood of the Kinnarī king,
Druma. The youth gazed at the city, which was adorned by a park rich in
flowers and fruits of various kinds, the haunt of all sorts of birds,
provided with tanks, oblong and square lakes, and surrounded by
Kinnarīs. He saw some Kinnarīs coming to draw water, and he said to
them, “What are you going to do with all that water?” They replied,
“The Kinnarī king has a daughter, Manoharā. As she has fallen into the
hands of human beings, the smell of humanity has to be washed off her.”
The youth Sudhana said, “Are all these jugs to be emptied over her at
once, or one after another?” They replied, “One after another.” He
thought, “Here is a good opportunity. I will drop this ring into one of
the jugs.” He chose the jug of one of the Kinnarīs, dropped the ring
into it, and said to her, “Let your jug be the first to begin
Manoharā’s ablutions.” Whereupon she thought, “No doubt he will be
wanting something or other.”
When this Kinnarī had been the first to empty her jug over Manoharā’s
head, the ring fell into Manoharā’s lap, who said to her, “Has not a
man come hither?” She replied, “Yes.” “Go to him, and bring him to some
retired spot.” Accordingly the Kinnarī brought him in and took him to a
retired spot. Then Manoharā touched her father’s feet and said,
“Father, if the youth Sudhana, who was my husband, were to come here,
what would you do with him?” He replied, “As he is a man, and I have no
need of him, I would cut him into a hundred pieces and scatter him on
all four sides.” Manoharā said, “Father, as he is a man, how could he
be here? It was only my talk.”
Afterwards, when the wrath of the Kinnarī king, Druma, was assuaged, he
said, “If the youth comes, I will have you provided with all kinds of
ornaments, and with many goods and treasures, and surrounded by
Kinnarīs, and will give you to him as his wife.” Thereupon Manoharā,
full of great delight, clothed the youth Sudhana in divine array, and
showed him to the Kinnarī king, Druma. When the Kinnarī king, Druma,
saw the young Sudhana’s stately form and pleasing aspect, his handsome
face and brilliant complexion, he was greatly astonished. As he was
desirous of having him as his son-in-law, he set in order seven golden
stems, seven palms, seven kettledrums, and seven wild boars. Now the
youth Sudhana was a Bodisat, and Bodisats are versed in all arts and in
every kind of skill. Moreover, the gods take pains to remove all
hindrances out of their way. The Bodisat stepped forth, surrounded by
many thousands of Kinnarīs, amid dance and song, and to the sound of
the harps, kettledrums, cymbals, lutes, drums, and the rest of the
instruments of various kinds made by the gods. Before the eyes of the
Kinnarī king, Druma, he drew nigh to the golden stems, wielding a sword
which looked like the leaf of a blue lotus, and began to cut the stems
in pieces as though he were slicing a plantain. Whereupon he broke them
into fragments like grains of sesame. Moreover he shot an arrow
uninjured through the seven palm-trees, the seven kettledrums, and the
seven boars, and remained standing like Sumeru unremoved. Thereupon the
heaven-inhabiting gods and many hundreds of thousands of Kinnarīs set
up a cry of triumph with noise and shouting. When the Kinnarī king,
Druma, saw and heard all this, he marvelled greatly.
After that the king placed Manoharā in the middle of a thousand
Kinnarīs exactly like her, and said to the youth Sudhana, “Come hither,
O youth, and recognise Manoharā.” Then the youth Sudhana, in order that
he might recognise her, uttered these verses, “Thou who art Drama’s
daughter, thou art also my beloved Manoharā; let it come to pass, in
consequence of this truth, that thou, O Manoharā, swiftly steppest to
the front.” Thereupon she immediately stepped forward, and the Kinnarīs
said, “Your majesty, as this youth Sudhana is of excellent strength,
manliness, and courage, and deserves to be Manoharā’s husband,
therefore please to be angry no longer, and to give Manoharā to him.”
Then the Kinnarī king summoned the Kinnarī host, and the Kinnarī
assembly paid great honour to the youth Sudhana. Holding Manoharā
adorned with divine array with his left hand, and a jar full of
gold-dust with his right hand, the king went up to the youth Sudhana
and said, “O youth, I give you Manoharā as your wife, surrounded by a
thousand Kinnarīs. But men are of a fickle nature. Do not on any
account desert her.” “I will act, O father, in accordance with your
words,” said the youth Sudhana, and proffered obedience to the Kinnarī
king, Druma. Then in a palace of the Kinnarī domain he and Manoharā,
apart from men, revelled and enjoyed themselves to the sound of the
musical instruments.
After a time, remembering his home, and being depressed by the pain
arising from his separation from his parents, he informed Manoharā that
he was overcome by the anguish caused by his separation from his
parents. Thereupon Manoharā gave her father a full account of what had
taken place. The king said, “Go with the youth, but act cautiously,
seeing that men are deceitful.” Then the Kinnarī king, Druma, let her
go, after bestowing upon her jewels, pearls, gold and so forth in
profusion.
Sudhana went his way with Manoharā, speeding onwards through the air by
Kinnarī power, and at length arrived at the city of Hastināpura. In the
city of Hastināpura, after all stones, gravel, and rubble had been
swept away, and sandal-wood water had been sprinkled, and floral
hangings, standards, and flags had been set up, and exceedingly
fragrant incense had been provided, and flowers of all sorts had been
strewn about, men gave themselves up to rejoicing. Then the youth,
accompanied by Manoharā, surrounded by many thousands of leaders of
men, made his entry into the city of Hastināpura.
When he had recovered from the fatigue caused by the journey, he took
jewels of different kinds and went to his father, and remained standing
beside the king, and gave him a full account of his journey to and from
the Kinnarī city. As King Dhana had become aware that the prince
possessed remarkable strength, manliness, and courage, he invested him
with regal power. The youth Sudhana said to himself, “That I have met
with Manoharā and obtained the might of kingly power is the special
result of earlier deeds. Therefore will I now also bestow gifts and
practise virtuous works.”
And during the space of twelve years he without let or hindrance
offered sacrifice in the city of Hastināpura.