There lived in Takshaśilā a very rich householder, to whom his wife
bore a daughter of great beauty. As the child’s eyes were like blue
lotus blossoms, and as she exhaled a lotus-like fragrance, while the
colour of her body resembled that of the lotus stamen, her relations
gave her the name of Utpalavarṇā. [126] As her father had no son, he
determined that, when his daughter was grown up, he would give her in
marriage only to one who, on becoming his son-in-law, would take up his
abode with him.
There was also in Takshaśilā another householder, who died leaving a
son behind him. This son, while wandering about after the death of his
parents, entered the house of Utpalavarṇā’s father, who proposed to him
that he should take up his residence with him as his son-in-law,
whereto he consented.
After the death of Utpalavarṇā’s father, her mother, who had food and
clothing in plenty, experienced amorous desires. But she had scruples
about inviting a stranger into the house, so she determined to allure
her own son-in-law. Understanding the hints she gave him, he complied
with her desires.
Being just on the point of being confined, Utpalavarṇā told her maid to
call her mother. But when the maid came to the mother’s chamber, she
found her and her son-in-law alone together, so she determined to wait
awhile. When the mother came forth from the chamber, the maid told her
that Utpalavarṇā had ordered her to be called. When the maid got back,
she found that her mistress had given birth to a daughter, and she was
asked what had detained her. The maid replied, “May your mother and
your husband remain well!” Being asked what she meant by that, the maid
related what had taken place. Utpalavarṇā imagined that the maid
calumniated her husband and her mother; but the maid said that, as she
was not believed, she would make the matter manifest to her; so when
the mother and her son-in-law were alone together, the maid called in
Utpalavarṇā. When Utpalavarṇā saw those two together she thought, “Has
this wretched woman seen no other man in Takshaśilā, that she keeps
company with her son-in-law? And has this wretched man seen no other
woman in Takshaśilā, that he keeps company with his mother-in-law?”
Full of wrath, she cried aloud to her husband, “Wretched man,
henceforth do what you please with her!” With these words she flung her
new-born daughter to her husband. The babe glanced off from the
father’s body and fell on the threshold, whereby its head was wounded.
But Utpalavarṇā veiled herself and left the house.
Seeing a caravan starting for Mathurā, she joined it. The
caravan-leader, becoming ardently enamoured of her on account of her
beauty, asked her to whom she belonged. She replied that she belonged
to him who gave her food and clothing. So he took her to wife, and when
they at length came to Mathurā, he left her there.
When he had sold his goods, and had returned to Takshaśilā with the
money, the other merchants exchanged hospitable invitations and
entertained one another. As the caravan-leader offered no such
entertainment, the merchants asked him why he did not do so. He
replied, “Ye who have your housewives with you are indeed able to
entertain, but as I have no one who could undertake the trouble for me,
I do not know how I can entertain.” The merchants were of opinion that,
under these circumstances, he ought to look out for a damsel. He
replied, “If I can find a damsel like my wife, I will marry her.” They
begged him to describe his wife’s appearance. He did so, and they
perceived that he had a jewel of a wife, but they said that they would
bestir themselves to discover one like her. Perceiving that
Utpalavarṇā’s own daughter answered to that description, they asked for
the maiden’s hand on behalf of the caravan-leader. Her relatives said,
“Honoured sirs, we are ready to give her; but in case he discovered
anything to find fault with in her after you have received her from us,
he might send her back and go away.” The merchants gave an assurance
that this would not be the case, and then the girl was made over to
them, and the caravan-leader married her.
Having disposed of his goods, he set off with the proceeds for Mathurā.
Coming to a certain rock not far from the city, he left his goods
there, together with the girl, saying that he was obliged to go for a
short time to Mathurā.
There Utpalavarṇā greeted him and asked after his welfare. He began to
complain that he had been robbed. She was delighted that he himself had
arrived in safety, and said that the god of wealth would assist him
later on. After some time he said, “O fair one, I must go to look for
the goods of which I have been robbed.” She gave her consent. Scarcely
had he gone when one of the friends of his youth arrived and asked
Utpalavarṇā where he had gone. She told him that he had gone to look
for the goods which had been stolen from him. Thereupon he informed her
that her husband had never completed a journey with such freedom from
loss as on this occasion, and that he had deceived her. Moreover, he
related to her how her husband had brought with him from Takshaśilā a
Gandhāra [127] woman whose feet she was not worthy to wash. When the
friend had affirmed the truth of his assertions she remained sitting in
silence.
When the caravan-leader came back she passed over the slight and asked
him if he had recovered his goods. He replied that he had. Then she
said, “O master, you have deceived me. Your goods have not been stolen.
I have heard that you have brought with you a Gandhāra woman from
Takshaśilā. Bring her here. For soon come to an end the means of him
who resides in two places.”
“O fair one,” he replied, “that is true, indeed; but have not you heard
that in the house of a man who has two wives the soup is often cold,
and therefore cannot be relished, and that in that house are found
strife, discord, and bickering?”
“O master,” she said, “pay no heed to that. It shall not be so. Only
bring her here. If she is like a younger sister, I will look on her as
a sister. If she is like a daughter, as a daughter will I regard her.”
The caravan-leader complied with her request and fetched the girl, and
on her appearance Utpalavarṇā conceived affection for her. One day,
when she was dressing the girl’s hair, she perceived a scar on her
head, and asked her what had caused it.
“I know nothing about it,” replied the girl, “except that my
grandmother has told me that my mother once tossed me to my father in a
fit of passion, and I fell upon the threshold, and that was how the
scar was produced.”
“What is your grandmother’s name?”
“So and so.”
“And your mother’s?”
“Utpalavarṇā.”
Then Utpalavarṇā thought, “As there I was mother and joint-wife, and
here my daughter is joint-wife, I must anyhow depart.” So she veiled
her head and went away from the house.
Seeing that a caravan was starting for Vaiśālī she attached herself to
it, entered into intimate relations with the merchants, and arrived at
Vaiśālī together with them. When the courtesans residing in Vaiśālī
asked why the merchants from Mathurā had nothing to do with them, one
of their number said, “Is it not because they have brought with them a
Gandhāra woman of such beauty that we are not worthy to wash her feet?”
Then they all assembled and betook themselves to Utpalavarṇā and
invited her, as her vocation was the same as theirs, to enter among
them. Utpalavarṇā laid aside her head-dress and straightway went unto
them.
As they sat one day at the drinking-board they discoursed about the
various merchants whom they had relieved of divers sums. Now there
lived in Vaiśālī a young grocer named Anishtaprāpta, whom none of them
had as yet been able to allure. They said, “Whoever amongst us succeeds
in alluring the young grocer, her will we style a capable woman.”
Utpalavarṇā asked whether in case she succeeded in alluring him, they
would recognise her as their mistress. They replied that they would; in
return for which she promised that if she failed she would pay sixty
Kārshāpaṇas.
Having hired an apartment near the grocer’s dwelling, she gave her maid
instructions to buy perfumes from him every day. In case he asked her
for whom she bought them, she was to reply that a young man of good
family had come to Utpalavarṇā’s house, and that it was for him that
they were intended. The maid acted in accordance with these
instructions. After a time, Utpalavarṇā told her maid to procure from
the same young man, bitter, acid, and tart drugs. If he asked for whom
they were intended, she was to say that the young man of good family
was ill, and that she had bought the drugs for him. If he asked whose
money it was that was paid, she was to say that Utpalavarṇā paid it.
The maid did as she ordered. When the grocer saw that Utpalavarṇā was
providing for the invalid out of her own means, he conceived a liking
for her, and told her maid to let her know that he wished to pay her a
visit. She executed the commission, but Utpalavarṇā told her to say to
him that the young man of good family was not yet cured.
As the grocer repeatedly inquired on what day he might come,
Utpalavarṇā perceived that he had conceived a strong passion for her,
and she resolved to carry out an elaborate piece of deceit. She made a
man’s figure of grass, and had it taken to the cemetery and there
burnt. Then she went, wailing and with dishevelled locks, close by the
shop of that grocer, where he was able to see her. According to the
words of Bhagavant, women enchain men in eight ways; by dancing,
singing, playing, laughing, weeping, and by their appearance, their
touch, and their questions. Excited by strong passion, the grocer said
to the maid, “O maiden, now will I go.” The maid asked her mistress,
who replied, “Go, maiden, and say to him, ‘The young man of good family
died to-day, and the mourning is not yet over. How then can you pay me
a visit?’”
When the maid had executed her commission, the young man’s longing to
see Utpalavarṇā increased. Then she sent to tell him he was not to
visit her in her house. But she made an appointment with him at a spot
in the park. The grocer went to the park, taking with him quantities of
food, drink, raiment, and garlands. After he had eaten and drunk for a
while with Utpalavarṇā, and was no longer master of his senses, being
overcome by the power of wine, she determined that she would let him be
seen by the public. So she set a wreath on his head, threw her arms
round his neck, and convoyed him home. When the courtesans saw this,
they were astonished and said, “This Gandhāra woman has splendidly
beguiled the young grocer,” and they named her their mistress.
After having for some time led a life of pleasure in the company of the
other courtesans, she became in the family way. Now there were two
gate-keepers at Vaiśālī, one for the east gate, the other for the west
gate. As they were on very friendly terms with each other, and they
wished this state of things to be continued as much as possible, even
after their death, they agreed that their children should be united in
marriage. When at the end of nine months Utpalavarṇā had given birth to
a son, she reflected that women who had young children were avoided by
men. So she said to her maid, “Go, maiden, take this child and a lamp,
and deposit them both at a certain spot by the roadside, and then wait
till some one takes up the child.” The maid took the child, and laid it
down at a spot near the abode of the eastern warder. Then she placed
the lamp beside the child, and remained on the watch. When the eastern
warder saw the lamp, he suspected what had taken place, and betook
himself to the spot. Seeing the child, he took it up in his arms, and
carried it to his wife, saying, “Good wife, there is a son for you.”
Thereat she was greatly pleased. When the morning came, and found
sounds of rejoicing still continuing, the neighbours asked one another
why there was such rejoicing in the eastern warder’s house. Some said
that a child had been born therein, others asked where the child could
have come from, seeing that his wife had certainly not been in the
family way. When the western warder heard of it, he reflected that, if
a daughter should be born to him, the eastern warder’s son would become
his daughter’s husband; so he sent a present of raiment and ornaments.
As for the boy, he throve apace, and when he was grown up he entered an
association.
Some time after the birth of her son, Utpalavarṇā again became in the
family way, and at the end of nine months bore a daughter, with whom
she dealt just as she had done with the boy. Her maid abandoned the
child by the roadside near the western warder’s house, and he took it
to his wife, who received it joyfully. And the eastern warder, seeing
in the girl the future wife of his son, sent her raiment and ornaments.
The girl throve apace, and when she grew up also entered an
association.
It happened one day that five hundred associates were going to visit a
park, and as they took counsel together the idea occurred to them of
taking a courtesan along with them, and they resolved to invite the
Gandhāra woman, stipulating that if any of their number would have
nothing to do with her, he should pay the associates sixty kārshāpaṇas.
When they had agreed with Utpalavarṇā for five hundred kārshāpaṇas, and
had taken her to the park, only the eastern warder’s son had no
inclination towards her. Then Utpalavarṇā said to him, “Sir, take your
pleasure, else must you pay the sixty kārshāpaṇas.” The fear of this
penalty induced him to surrender himself to enjoyment. Afterwards an
affection for Utpalavarṇā arose within him, and he made her his
concubine. Thereat the Liććhavis were greatly angered, and they wanted
to put him to death for having made a courtesan his concubine. Every
one possesses in the world friends, foes, and persons indifferent to
him. He betook himself to the eastern warder, and told him what had
occurred. The eastern warder was terrified. He went to the Liććhavis,
fell at their feet, and implored their favour for his son. As the
eastern warder had for a long time been of service to them, they
consented to give the courtesan to his son, in case he loved her.
Thereupon the eastern warder’s son, their permission being assured to
him, was no longer alarmed, and made Utpalavarṇā his wife.
His father afterwards said to the western warder, “O friend, give your
daughter to my son as his wife.” The other replied, “What does your son
want with another wife, seeing that he is already married.” The eastern
warder answered, “Inasmuch as we have already agreed thereto, give your
daughter to him. As I have sufficient means, I will set the house of my
son’s wife on an excellent footing.” So the western warder, in
accordance with the agreement, gave his daughter to the eastern
warder’s son as his wife. About that time Āyushmant Maudgalyāyana [128]
came to the eastern warder’s house. And when he saw the warder’s
daughter-in-law, he cried, “O daughter, your fellow-wife is your
mother. Your husband is your brother. But be not over troubled, and
entertain no thoughts about hell.”
When Utpalavarṇā had lived some time with her husband, there was born
unto her a son. The daughter [of the western warder] used to set the
babe in sport, before the door of the house. There came along the road
a Brahman who, after looking at her, asked her in verse, how the boy
was related to her. She answered him, also in verse—
“O Brahman, he is my brother, the son of my brother, my son [i.e.,
step-son], and my brother-in-law. His father is my father [i.e.,
step-father], my brother, and now my husband.”
Overhearing this, Utpalavarṇā asked the maidservant what those two were
saying. The maid replied, “What those two are saying is the truth and
no lie.”
“What then, is the truth?” asked Utpalavarṇā.
“Your son,” replied the maid, “whom I exposed at the east gate is now
your husband. Your daughter, whom I exposed at the west gate, is now
your fellow-wife.”
Thereupon Utpalavarṇā reflected that formerly she had been mother and
fellow-wife, and her daughter had been her fellow-wife, and that her
son was now her husband, wherefore, she must at any rate depart. So she
veiled her head, and left the house.
As a caravan was just setting out for Rājagṛiha, she attached herself
to it, and travelled along with it to Rājagṛiha, where she lived as
before as a courtesan. An association of five hundred youths, who were
going to a park one day, invited the Gandhāra woman to go there with
them, on the payment of five hundred kārshāpaṇas. There they ate and
drank and enjoyed themselves with her.
Now Āyushmant Maudgalyāyana knew that the time for Utpalavarṇā to be
converted was at hand, and he wandered up and down at a little distance
from those young men. Then said the young men, “This worthy
Maudgalyāyana is freed from the bonds of sin, but we are sunk in the
slough of passion.”
“In Vaiśālī,” said Utpalavarṇā, “I beguiled the young grocer
Anishṭaprāpta.”
“Will you beguile this man also?” asked the youths.
She asked how much they would pay her in case she beguiled him. They
promised her five hundred kārshāpaṇas. And in return she bound herself
to become the concubine of one of the members of the association if she
failed. All this was agreed to. Then Utpalavarṇā betook herself to the
spot where Mahāmaudgalyāyana was, and employed all kinds of feminine
tricks and artifices. But Mahāmaudgalyāyana’s senses remained
unbeguiled. Then she reflected that a woman’s touch is of the nature of
poison, so she determined to embrace him, and thereby to bring him into
her power. But when she tried to do so, Mahāmaudgalyāyana soared aloft
with outstretched wings like a flamingo-king. And by the words which he
spoke was Utpalavarṇā so affected that she besought him to instruct her
in the doctrine. He did so, and she recognised the four truths.