In long past times, a king came to the throne in the palace of a
country well provided with riches, prosperity, good harvests, and
numerous inhabitants. Some time afterwards his wife became with child,
and, after the lapse of eight or nine months, gave birth to a very
handsome boy, complete in limbs and joints, whose skin was the colour
of gold, whose head stood out like a canopy, and who had long arms, a
broad forehead, interlacing eyebrows, and a high-arched nose. At his
birth there occurred many thousands of happy events. When his
birth-feast was held, and the question arose as to giving him a name,
the ministers said, “O king, as many thousands of happy events have
taken place at his birth, let him be called Ksheman·kara. [147]” This
name was given to him, and he was entrusted to eight nurses, two to
carry him, two to suckle him, two to cleanse him, and two to play with
him. These nurses brought him up on various milk products and other
excellent forms of nourishment, so that he shot up like a lotus in a
pool.
The king’s wife again became with child, and after the lapse of eight
or nine months a boy was born, at whose birth many thousands of
unfortunate events took place, on which account there was given to him
the name of Pāpan·kara. [148] He also thrived apace and grew up.
The young Ksheman·kara, who was of a friendly and merciful nature, and
compassionate towards all living creatures, loved to give, taking his
delight in bestowing, and conferred gifts upon the Śramaṇas and
Brahmans, the poor and the needy who begged of him. His father said to
him, “O son, do not be constantly making presents. If you give away so
freely, where are we to find the necessary riches?”
Now, in accordance with the nature of things, many men take delight in
gifts and giving, and when they thus delight themselves their fame is
extolled in words and verses, and celebrated in all parts of the world.
The king of another country, who had heard of the great virtues of the
prince, wished to give him his daughter. The prince’s father was highly
pleased, and wanted to go to meet her. But Ksheman·kara said, “Until I
have acquired wealth I will not marry. Allow me, O father, to go to
sea.” He replied, “Do so.” When he set forth for the sea with his
merchandise, his brother, Pāpan·kara, said to himself—
“As he is now liked and loved by many men, he will be still more liked
and loved by many men when he shall have equipped a sea-ship and have
returned home. And as there will be an opportunity of his being
invested with the regal power during our father’s lifetime, therefore
I, too, instead of remaining here to see whose turn will come, will go
to sea along with him, and will take away his life out there, and then
I shall be invested with the heirship even against my father’s will.”
With these thoughts in his mind he went to his father, and said to him,
“O father, as Ksheman·kara is going to sea I will go with him.” His
father said, “Do so.”
Now Ksheman·kara ordered proclamation to be made throughout the land as
follows: “Listen, O honourable merchants inhabiting the city. As Prince
Ksheman·kara is going to sea with merchandise, and as he among you who
is inclined to go to sea under Prince Ksheman·kara’s guidance will be
freed from tolls, taxes, and freight-money, therefore get ready the
goods which are to be taken to sea.” Many hundreds of merchants got
ready goods to be taken to the sea. Then Ksheman·kara, as the leading
trader, accompanied by his brother Pāpan·kara, after performing
ceremonies for the sake of obtaining a successful result, surrounded by
many hundreds of merchants, taking with him in waggons, carts, chests,
and hampers, and on camels, oxen, and asses, quantities of goods to be
transported by sea, set out on his way. Visiting lands, towns,
villages, commercial emporiums, and estates, he came by degrees to the
sea-coast. There he purchased a ship for five hundred kārshāpaṇas, and
after making proclamation three times, set out on the ocean, taking
with him five hundred servants, diggers, cleansers, fishermen,
mariners, and pilots. When on board ship he said to his brother
Pāpan·kara: “Should a shipwreck take place in the middle of the ocean,
then throw your arms round my neck without hesitation.” Pāpan·kara
replied, “Good, I will do so.”
After a time the ship arrived with a favourable wind at the Island of
Jewels, and the steersman said: “Listen, O honourable merchants of
Jambudvīpa! as ye have heard that the Island of Jewels is a mine of
diamonds, lapis lazuli, turquoises, emeralds, and divers other precious
stones, therefore have we come hither. Now then, take yourselves as
many jewels as ye wish.”
They searched for them with joy and desire, and they filled the ship
full, as though with rice, pease, sesame, and the like. Now, as
Bodisats are wise and sharp-witted, Prince Ksheman·kara made fast to
his girdle some large jewels of great value. On the way back, when not
far from shore, the ship was rendered useless in consequence of an
injury inflicted by a sea monster. Therefore Pāpan·kara threw his arms
round the neck of Ksheman·kara, who by great exertions brought him
ashore. Exhausted by the burden, Ksheman·kara fell asleep. As he lay
sleeping, Pāpan·kara caught sight of the jewels fastened to his girdle,
and thought: “Ought I to return with empty hands while he comes back
with such jewels?” Then he took away the jewels from his soundly
sleeping brother, put both his eyes out with a thorn, and left him
sightless on the ocean shore.
By a fortunate chance some oxherds who were tending their cattle came
to that spot. When they saw the prince, they said, “Ho, friend, who are
you?” He told them everything that had occurred. When they had heard
his story they were filled with compassion, and they led him to the
house of the chief herdsman. There he took to playing on the lute. The
chief herdsman’s wife, who was charmed by his youth and beauty, heard
the sound of his lute and tried to allure him. But he, thinking of a
course of life acquired by good deeds, closed his ears and did not
stir. As there is nothing which they may not do who are seized by
desire, she said to her husband: “This blind man is trying to tempt me,
will you put up with such people?” The prince reflected that, of all
kinds of anger, the worst is the anger of a wife, and perceived that
there was nothing left for him, in order not to be smitten thereby, but
to go away. So he left the house, and along all manner of streets,
market places, and by-roads, he gained himself a living by his music.
On the death of his father his brother, Pāpan·kara, came to the throne.
And after a time he himself arrived at the town of that neighbouring
king who had formerly wished to give him his daughter in marriage. She
had by this time grown up, but when there came to woo her the sons of
kings, ministers, and purohitas, dwelling in many lands, her father
said: “O daughter, Prince Ksheman·kara, for whom I had intended you,
went to sea and there died in consequence of a misfortune. As suitors
have now arrived, and as those who do not obtain you will be
discontented, the question arises, what is to be done?” She replied: “O
father, if this be the case, let orders be given to have the city swept
and garnished; I will choose a husband for myself.”
Then the king ordered proclamation to be made in the different lands
and cities that his daughter was going to choose herself a husband. He
also gave orders that his own city should be cleared of stones,
potsherds, and rubble, sprinkled with sandalwood water, and perfumed
with odours, and that canopies, standards, and flags, should be set up,
and numerous silken hangings displayed, together with flowers of many
kinds, giving the appearance of a grove of the gods, and that
joy-inspiring proclamation should be made to this effect: “O honourable
dwellers in town and country, and crowds of men assembled from various
lands, give ear! To-morrow the king’s daughter will choose herself a
husband. So do ye assemble as is fitting.”
Next morning the king’s daughter, adorned with many ornaments and
surrounded by numerous maidens, came to a grove made bright with
flowers by the deity of the grove, rendered extremely beautiful by the
dispensation of great good fortune. And when several thousand men had
assembled in the midst of the city, she came into the assembly in order
to choose herself a husband. Somewhat removed sat Ksheman·kara playing
on the lute.
As men by their deeds are reciprocally connected, and the force of
effect is constrained by the great power of cause, so it came to pass
that the king’s daughter, when her feelings were moved by the sound of
the lute, became closely attached to Ksheman·kara’s playing, and she
threw him the crown of flowers, crying, “This man is my husband.”
The assembled people were discontented, and some of them in bitterness
of heart began to find fault with her, saying, “What sense is there in
this, that the royal princess, who has so much beauty, and who is so
supremely young and accomplished, should slight the sons of kings,
ministers, and purohitas, who have come from many lands, besides
excellent householders, and should choose a blind man to be her
husband?”
With reluctance and discontent did the officials convey the tidings to
the king, saying, “O king, the princess has completed the choice of a
husband.” The king said, “What manner of man has she chosen?” They
replied, “O king, a blind man.” The king also was displeased when he
heard this, and he sent for his daughter and said, “O daughter,
wherefore have you chosen such a man as your husband, in spite of there
being extremely young, rich and handsome sons of kings, proprietors,
merchants, caravan leaders, ministers, and purohitas?” She replied, “O
father, this is the man I want.” The king said, “O daughter, if that be
so, then go to him. Wherefore do you delay?” She went to him and said,
“I have chosen you as my husband.” He replied, “Therein you have not
acted well. Perhaps you have thought, ‘as such is the case and this man
is blind, I can give myself to another.’” She replied, “I am not one
who does such things.” He said, “What proof is there of this?” She
replied, commencing an asseveration—
“If it be true, and my asseveration is righteous, that I have been in
love only with Prince Ksheman·kara and with you, but with none else,
then through the power of this truth and my asseveration shall one of
your two eyes become sound as before.”
So soon as this asseveration was uttered, one of his eyes came again
just as it was before. Then he said, “I am Ksheman·kara. My brother
Pāpan·kara reduced me to the state I was in.” She said, “What proof is
there that you are Prince Ksheman·kara?” Then he too began to
asseverate, saying—
“If it be true, and my asseveration righteous, that although Pāpan·kara
put out my eyes, I do not in the least bear him malice, then in
consequence of the truth and affirmation may my other eye become sound
as before.”
So soon as he had pronounced this asseveration, his other eye also
became as it had been originally. Then the royal princess betook
herself to the king, along with Ksheman·kara, who was no longer
imperfect in any part of his body, and said, “O father, this is
Ksheman·kara himself.” As the king was incredulous, she told him how
everything had come about. The king was exceedingly astonished, but
with great joy did he give his daughter to Ksheman·kara as his wife.
Then he set forth with a great army for that city, and drove Pāpan·kara
from power, and set Ksheman·kara as king upon his father’s throne.