completion, and the gods and the rishis prepared to go to their own
abodes. [714] And as Indra was exceedingly pleased, Merudhvaja said
to him, "Come with me to my city, king of heaven, if thou be pleased
with me." When Indra heard that, he went, in order to please him,
with the king and his son to the city of Devasabha, after taking leave
of the hermit. And there the king, who was sovereign of two worlds,
entertained Indra so sumptuously, that he forgot his happiness in
heaven. Then Indra too, being gratified, took the king and his sons
in his own heavenly chariot to his celestial abode, and in that place
which was charming with the pleasures of a concert in which Nárada,
Rambhá and others performed, he made Merudhvaja, with Muktáphaladhvaja
and Malayadhvaja, forget their toils, and gave them garlands from
the Párijáta-tree, and celestial diadems, and after honouring them,
sent them home.
And they, when they returned, kept going to and fro between the earth
and Pátála, and though kings of men, bare sway in two worlds. Then
Merudhvaja said to Muktáphaladhvaja, "Our enemies are conquered;
you two brothers are young men, and I have various princesses who
are subject to my sway, and I have sent for some of them: the fitting
time has come; so take to yourselves wives."
When Muktáphaladhvaja's father said this to him, he answered,
"Father, my mind is not inclined to marriage at present. I will now
perform a course of austerities to propitiate [715] Siva; but let
this Malayadhvaja my dear younger brother, be married." When his
younger brother Malayadhvaja heard this, he said, "Noble brother,
is it fitting that I should be married, before you have taken a wife,
or that I should hold sway while you are without a kingdom? I follow
in your footsteps."
When Malayadhvaja said this, king Merudhvaja said to his eldest son
Muktáphaladhvaja, "Your younger brother here has spoken rightly, but
what you have just said is not right; it is no time for asceticism
in this fresh youth of yours; the present should be to you a time of
enjoyment; so abandon, my son, this perverse crotchet of yours, which
is most inopportune." Though the king addressed these admonitions
to his eldest son, that prince resolutely refused to take a wife:
so the king remained silent, to wait for a more favourable time.
In the meanwhile, in Pátála, the two daughters of Trailokyamálin's
wife, Svayamprabhá, who were engaged in austerities, said to their
mother, "Mother, when one of us was seven and the other eight years
old, owing to our want of merits, [716] our father was imprisoned,
and we were hurled from the royal rank. It is now the eighth year,
that we have been engaged in austerities, and yet Siva is not
pleased with us, and our father has not, as yet, been released from
his imprisonment. So let us even consume these unlucky bodies in the
fire, before we also are imprisoned, or experience some other insult
at the hands of our enemy."
When Svayamprabhá's daughters said this to her, she answered them,
"Wait a while, my daughters, we shall regain our former glory. For
I know that, while I was engaged in austerities, the god Siva said
to me in a dream, 'My child, be of good courage; thy husband shall
recover his kingdom, and the princes Muktáphaladhvaja and Malayadhvaja
shall be the husbands of thy two daughters. And do not suppose that
they are men; for one of them is a noble Vidyádhara, and the other
is a Gana of mine.' When I had received this revelation from Siva, I
woke up at the close of night; and supported by this hope I have borne
great suffering. So I will inform the king your father of this matter,
and with his consent, I will endeavour to bring about your marriage."
When the queen Svayamprabhá had in these words comforted her daughters,
she said to Indumatí, an old woman of the harem, "Go to my husband in
the cave of Svetasaila, and fall at his feet, and say to him from me,
'My husband, the Creator has formed me of such strange wood, that,
though the fire of separation from you burns fiercely, I have not yet
been consumed by it. But it is because I entertain a hope of seeing
you again that I have not abandoned life.' When you have said this,
tell him the revelation that Siva made to me in a dream, then ask him
about the marriage of our daughters, and come back, and tell me what
he says; I will then act accordingly."
When she had said this, she sent off Indumatí; and she left Pátála and
reached the well-guarded entrance of that mountain-cave. She entreated
the guards and entered, and seeing Trailokyamálin there a prisoner,
she burst into tears, and embraced his feet; and when he asked her
how she was, she slowly told him all his wife's message; then that
king said, "As for what Siva says about my restoration to my kingdom,
may that turn out as the god announced, but the idea of my giving my
daughters to the sons of Merudhvaja is preposterous. I would rather
perish here than give my daughters as a present to enemies and men too,
while myself a prisoner."
When Indumatí had been sent away by the king with this message,
she went and delivered it to his wife Svayamprabhá. And when
Trailokyaprabhá and Tribhuvanaprabhá the daughters of the Daitya
sovereign heard it, they said to their mother Svayamprabhá, "Anxiety
lest our youthful purity should be outraged makes the fire seem our
only place of safety, so we will enter it, mother, on the fourteenth
day, that is now approaching." When they had thus resolved, their
mother and her suite also made up their minds to die. And when the
fourteenth day arrived, they all worshipped Hátakesvara, and made
pyres in a holy bathing-place called Páparipu.
Now it happened that on that very day king Merudhvaja, with his son,
and his wife, was coming there to worship Hátakesvara. And as he
was going to the holy water of Páparipu, with his suite, to bathe,
he saw smoke rising from the midst of a grove on its bank. And when
the king asked, "How comes smoke to be rising here?" those governors
he had set over Pátála, Sangrámasinha and the others, said to him,
"Great king, Svayamprabhá, the wife of Trailokyamálin, is engaged
in austerities here with her daughters the princesses. Without doubt
they are now performing here some sacrificial rite in honour of the
fire, or possibly they are wearied out with excessive asceticism,
and are immolating themselves by entering it."
When the king heard that, he went to see what was going on, with
his sons, and his wife, and those governors of Pátála, ordering the
rest of his suite to remain behind. And concealing himself there,
he beheld those Daitya maidens, with their mother, worshipping the
fire of the pyres, which was burning brightly. [717] They seemed
with the effulgence of the great beauty of their faces which shone
out in all directions, to be creating in the lower world a hundred
discs of the moon: and to be installing the god of love as king after
the conquest of the three worlds, with their swiftly-moving necklaces
that looked like liquid streams poured down from the golden pitchers
of their breasts. Their broad hips, surrounded with the girdles which
they wore, looked like the head of the elephant of love adorned with
a girdle of constellations. The long wavy masses of hair which they
bore, seemed like snakes made by the Creator to guard the treasure of
their beauty. When the king saw them, he was astonished, and he said,
"The creation of the Maker of All is surprising for the novelty that is
ever being manifested in it: [718] for neither Rambhá, nor Urvasí, nor
Tilottamá is equal in beauty to these two daughters of the Asura king."
While the king was making these reflections to himself,
Trailokyaprabhá, the elder of the two Daitya maidens, after worshipping
the god present in the Fire, addressed this prayer to him, "Since, from
the time that my mother told me of the revelation of Siva received by
her in a dream, my mind has been fixed upon prince Muktáphaladhvaja,
that treasure-house of virtue, as my chosen husband, I pray, holy one,
that he may be my husband in a future birth, inasmuch as, though in
this birth my mother wishes to give me to him, my haughty father,
being a captive, will not consent to it." When Tribhuvanaprabhá heard
that, she, in the same way, prayed to the Fire-god that Malayadhvaja
might be her husband in a future life.
Then king Merudhvaja, who was delighted at hearing that, and the
queen his wife said to one another, "If our two sons could obtain
these two maidens for their wives, they would reap fruit from their
conquest of the two worlds. So let us go to them and their mother,
before they have cast themselves into the fire, as they intend to
do in a moment, and dissuade them from doing so." When the king, in
consultation with the queen, had made up his mind to this, he went up
to them, and said, "Do not act rashly: for I will put a stop to your
sorrow." When all the Asura ladies heard this speech of the king's,
that seemed like a rain of nectar to their ears, and afterwards saw
him, they all bowed before him.
And Svayamprabhá said to him, "Before we were concealed by magic, and
you did not see us, though we saw you, but now we have been seen here
by you, the sovereign of the two worlds. And now that we have been seen
by you, our sorrow will soon come to an end; much more since you have
bestowed on us by your own mouth a boon we never craved; so take a seat
and receive the arghya and water for the feet. [719] For you deserve
to be honoured by the three worlds; and this is our hermitage." When
she said this, the king answered laughing, "Give the arghya and water
for the feet to these your sons-in-law." Then Svayamprabhá said, "To
them the god Siva will give the arghya and soon, but do you receive
it to-day." Then Merudhvaja said, "I have already received it all;
but do you, ladies, immediately give up your intention of committing
suicide; and go and dwell in one of your cities where every wish can
be gratified; then I will take steps to ensure your welfare."
When the king said this, Svayamprabhá said to him, "In accordance with
your Majesty's order we have given up our intention of abandoning the
body, but while our lord is in prison, how would it be becoming for us
to live in our palace? So we will remain here, king, for the present,
until your Highness shall perform the promise which you spontaneously
made to us, and shall cause our lord to be set free with his servants
and ministers. And he will hold sway as your Majesty's zealous officer,
and will make over his realm to you if you desire it; indeed he will
make a strict agreement [720] with you to this effect. And for this
we and all the inhabitants of Pátála will be your sureties, so take
our jewels from the regions of Pátála, and make them your own."
When she said this, king Merudhvaja said to her, "I will see about
that, but you must remember your promise." When the king had said
this, he bathed and worshipped Hátakesa. And those Daitya princesses,
having now seen his sons with their own eyes, had their minds entirely
fixed on them. Then all the inhabitants of Rasátala [721] fell at the
feet of the virtuous king Merudhvaja, and asked that Trailokyamálin
should be set at liberty; and then king Merudhvaja, with his wife,
sons, and servants, left the world of the Asuras, and returned to
his own city, covering the regions with his umbrellas white as his
own glory. There his son Malayadhvaja spent the night in thinking on
the younger daughter of the king of the Dánavas, being tortured with
the fever of love, and though he closed his eyes, he never slept. But
that sea of self-control Muktáphaladhvaja, though he thought upon
the elder daughter of the Asura monarch who was deeply in love with
him, and though he was young, and she was fair enough to shake with
love the saintly minds of anchorites, still in virtue of the boon
he had craved from the hermit, was no whit disturbed in mind. But
Merudhvaja, finding that his elder son was determined not to take
a wife, while Malayadhvaja was desperately in love, and that on the
other hand that great Asura was averse to giving him his daughters,
remained with his mind bewildered as to how to devise an expedient.
CHAPTER CXIX.
Then king Merudhvaja, seeing that Malayadhvaja was thus overpowered
with the fever of love, said to his queen, "If those two daughters of
Trailokyamálin, whom I saw in Pátála, do not become the wives of my two
sons, what advantage shall I have gained? And my son Malayadhvaja is
consumed with smouldering flame, because he cannot obtain the younger
of the two, though shame makes him conceal the fire of love. It is for
this very reason that, though I promised Trailokyamálin's queen that I
would set him at liberty, I do not at once make my promise good. For,
if he is set free from his imprisonment, his pride as an Asura will
prevent his ever giving his daughters to my sons as being men. So it is
now advisable to propose this matter to him in a conciliatory manner."
When he had gone through these reflections with the queen, he said
to his warder, "Go to the cave of Svetasaila, and say, as from me,
in a kind manner to Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, who is
imprisoned there, 'King of the Daityas, by the appointment of Destiny
you have been long afflicted here, so now do what I advise, and bring
your affliction to an end. Give to my two sons your two daughters,
who fell in love with them at first sight, and thus procure your
release, and rule your kingdom, after you have given security for
your fidelity.'"
With this message the king sent off his warder, and he went and
delivered it to the Daitya monarch in that cave. The monarch answered,
"I will not give my two daughters to two men;" and the warder returned
and reported his answer to the king.
Then king Merudhvaja began to look about for some other means of
attaining his end, and in the course of some days Svayamprabhá heard
how he had sped, so she again sent Indumatí from Pátála to his palace
with a message.
And Indumatí arrived, and had herself announced by the female
warder, and went into the presence of the great queen, who received
her graciously. And she bowed before her, and said to her, "Queen,
queen Svayamprabhá sends you this message, 'Have you forgotten your
own promise? The seas and the principal mountains will suffer change
at the day of doom, but the promises of people like you will not
change even then. Although my husband has not consented to bestow our
daughters as you wished, reflect, how could he have given them as a
present while himself a prisoner? If you release him in a proper way
as an act of kindness, [722] he will certainly make you a return by
giving you his daughters. Otherwise Svayamprabhá and her daughters
will abandon their lives, and in this way you will fail to obtain
daughters-in-law, and also to keep your promise? So manage, queen,
to make the king set our lord free on the conditions of compact and
security and so on, in order that all may turn out well; and accept
this ornament sent by Svayamprabhá, studded with various gems, that
confer the power of becoming a Vidyádhara, and other advantages.'"
When Indumatí said this, the queen answered her, "How can I take
this from your mistress now that she is in trouble?" But Indumatí
urged her vehemently to take it, saying, "We shall be quite unhappy
if you refuse to accept it, but if you take it, we shall consider
our affliction alleviated." Being thus strongly urged by Indumatí,
the queen took from her that jewelled ornament, to comfort her; and
she made her wait there, saying to her, "Remain here, noble lady,
until the king shall come this way."
In the meanwhile the king came there, and Indumatí rose up,
and having been introduced by the queen, bowed before him, and he
received her graciously. And she gave to that king a crest-jewel sent
by Svayamprabhá, that was a talisman against poison, Rákshasas, old
age, and disease. [723] The king said, "I will accept this jewel when
I have kept my promise; but the ready-witted Indumatí said to him,
"A promise made by the king is as good as kept. But, if your Majesty
will accept this, we shall be very much comforted." When she made this
speech, the queen observed, "Well said," and took that crest-jewel,
and fastened it on the king's head.
Then Indumatí repeated to the king the message of Svayamprabhá, as
she had delivered it to the queen; then the king, being entreated
to the same effect by the queen, went on to say to Indumatí, "Remain
here for to-day; to-morrow morning I will give you an answer."
Having said this, king Merudhvaja allowed a night to pass, and
the next morning he summoned his ministers, and said to Indumatí,
"Noble lady, go with these ministers of mine, and after informing
Trailokyamálin, bring from Pátála those Asura ladies, Svayamprabhá
and the others, and all the principal inhabitants of Pátála, and the
water of ordeal connected with Hátakesvara, in a sealed vessel. And let
Svayamprabhá and the others touch the feet of Svayamprabhá's husband,
in the presence of my ministers, and by solemn oaths make themselves
sureties for this, namely, that Trailokyamálin, with his friends and
servants, shall ever remain firm in his allegiance to me, and that the
Nágas shall not injure the crops. And let all the lords in Pátála be
sureties to the same effect, and let them all, with their king, give
their children as hostages, [724] and let them all, with their king,
put this in writing, and drink the water of ordeal in which the image
of Hátakesvara has been washed: then I will release Trailokyamálin
from prison."
Having said so much, the king sent off Indumatí with his ministers. She
went with them, and informed Trailokyamálin of what was being done, and
as he approved of her proceedings, she went in the same way to Pátála,
and she brought there Svayamprabhá and the others, and the water of
ordeal, [725] and she made them all do in the presence of the king's
ministers all that he had prescribed. And when king Trailokyamálin
had in this way given security, king Merudhvaja set him free from
prison with his suite. And he had brought him to his own palace with
his family and his attendants, and courteously entertained him; and
then he took possession of all the jewels of the Asuras, and sent
Trailokyamálin back to his kingdom. And Trailokyamálin returned to
Rasátala his home, and having recovered his kingdom, rejoiced with his
servants and relations. And Merudhvaja filled the earth with abundant
treasures that came from Pátála, as a rain-cloud showers water.
Then Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, took counsel with his
wife, desiring to bestow his two beautiful daughters on Merudhvaja's
sons, and he invited him to his palace, with his relations, and came
himself to escort him there, remembering the benefit conferred on
him. So he came to king Merudhvaja, who entertained him, and then he
said to him, "On a former occasion, your great joy prevented your
seeing Rasátala properly. But now come and see it, while we give
ourselves up to attending on you; and accept from me my two beautiful
daughters for your sons."
When the Asura king had said this to Merudhvaja, the latter summoned
his wife and his two sons. And he told them the speech of the Asura
king, and how he proposed to give his two daughters; then his eldest
son Muktáphaladhvaja said to him, "I will not marry until I have
propitiated Siva; I said this long ago; you must pardon this fault
in me. When I have gone, let Malayadhvaja marry; for he will never
be happy without that Pátála maiden." When the younger son heard
this, he said to his elder brother, "Noble sir, while you are alive,
I will never perform such a disgraceful and unrighteous act." Then
king Merudhvaja earnestly exhorted Muktáphaladhvaja to marry, but he
would not consent to do so; and therefore Trailokyamálin took leave
of the king, who was in a state of despondency, and went back with
his suite to Pátála as he had come.
There he told what had taken place and said to his wife and son,
"Observe how exclusively bent on humiliating us Fortune is. Those very
men, to whom formerly I refused to give my daughters in marriage when
they asked for them, now refuse to accept them, though I ask them to
do so." When they heard it, they said, "Who can tell how this matter
is in the mind of Destiny? Can Siva's promise be falsified?"
While they were saying these things, those maidens, Trailokyaprabhá
and Tribhuvanaprabhá, heard what had happened, and took upon them the
following vow, "We will remain without food for twelve days, and if
at the end of that time the god does not shew us favour by bringing
about our marriage, we will enter the fire together, and we will not
preserve our bodies for insult, or merely for the sake of continuing in
life." When the daughters of the Daitya sovereign had made this vow,
they remained fasting in front of the god, engaged in meditation and
muttering prayers. And their mother and their father the sovereign of
the Daityas, hearing of it, and being very fond of their daughters,
remained fasting in the same way.
Then Svayamprabhá their mother quickly sent off Indumatí once more to
Merudhvaja's queen consort, to tell her how matters were going. She
went and told that queen the trouble in her master's house, and so
Merudhvaja also came to hear of it. Then that couple abandoned food
out of regard for the other royal couple, and their sons did so as
well, out of regard for their parents.
Thus in two worlds the royal families were in trouble. And
Muktáphaladhvaja remained without eating, and meditated on Siva as
his refuge. And, after six nights had passed, in the morning the
prince woke up, and said to his friend Mahábuddhi, who had formerly
been Samyataka, "My friend, I remember that last night in a dream
I mounted my steed given me by the hermit Tapodhana, that changes
its shape at will, and goes where the mind directs, and had become a
flying chariot, and, in my despondency I went to a heavenly temple of
Siva, very far from here, on the slope of Meru. There I saw a certain
celestial maiden emaciated with austerities; and a certain man with
matted hair, pointing to her, said to me laughing, 'You have come
here in this way to escape from one maiden, and lo! here is another
waiting for you.' When I heard this speech of his, I remained gazing
at the beauty of that maiden, but found it impossible to gaze my fill,
and so at the end of the night I suddenly woke up.
"So I will go there to obtain that heavenly maiden, and if I do not
find her there, I will enter the fire. What can Destiny mean, by
causing my mind to become attached to this maiden seen in a dream,
after rejecting, in the way I did, the Daitya maiden, offered to me
a short time ago? At any rate, I am persuaded that, if I go there,
good fortune will certainly befall me."
Having said this, he called to mind that vehicle given to him by the
hermit, which would carry him to any place conceived in the mind,
and assume any desired form. It turned into an air-going chariot, and
he mounted it, and set out for that heavenly temple of Siva, and when
he reached it, he saw that it was just as it had seemed in his dream,
and he rejoiced. Then he proceeded to perform religious ablution with
all the attendant rites, in the holy water there, named Siddhodaka,
with no one to wait on him but his friend.
Then his father king Merudhvaja, who was in his own city, emaciated
with fasting, accompanied by his wife, son, and suite, heard that
he had gone off somewhere secretly, and became bewildered with
grief. And all this was at once known in Pátála, exactly as it had
taken place. Then Trailokyamálin took with him his two daughters, and
came fasting, with his wife and suite, to visit king Merudhvaja. And
they all resolved on the following course of action; "Surely, as it
is the fourteenth day, the prince has gone somewhere to worship Siva;
so we will wait for him here this day. But to-morrow, if he has not
returned, we will go where he is: then, happen what will."
In the meanwhile Padmávatí, who was in that hermitage of Siva, named
Meghavana, said that very day to her ladies-in-waiting; "My friends,
I remember that last night I went in a dream to Siddhísvara, and a
certain man wearing matted hair came out of the temple of the god, and
said to me, 'My daughter, thy sorrow is at an end, thy reunion with thy
husband is nigh at hand.' When he had said this, he departed, and night
and sleep left me together. So come, let us go there." When Padmávatí
had said this, she went to that temple of Gaurí on the slope of Meru.
There she saw with astonishment that Muktáphaladhvaja at a distance
bathing in Siddhodaka, and she said to her friends, "This man is like
my beloved. Observe how very like he is. Wonderful! Can he be the very
same? It cannot be, for he is a mortal." When her ladies-in-waiting
heard that, and saw him, they said to her, "Princess, not only is this
man very like your beloved, but observe, his companion also bears a
resemblance to your lover's friend Samyataka. So we know for certain
that, in accordance with your last night's dream which you related to
us, Siva has by his power brought those two here, after their becoming
incarnate as men owing to a curse. Otherwise, how, being mortals,
could they have come to this region of the gods?" When Padmávatí had
been thus addressed by her ladies-in-waiting, she worshipped Siva,
and in a state of eager excitement, remained concealed near the god's
symbol to find out who the stranger was.
In the meanwhile Muktáphaladhvaja, having bathed, came into the temple
to worship the god, and after looking all round, said to Mahábuddhi,
"Strange to say, here is that very temple, which I saw in my dream,
made of precious stone, with the form of Siva visible within the
linga. And now I behold here those very localities, which I saw in my
dream, full of jewel-gleaming trees, which are alive with heavenly
birds. But I do not see here that heavenly maiden, whom I then saw;
and if I do not find her, I am determined to abandon the body in
this place."
When he said this, Padmávatí's ladies-in-waiting said to her in a
whisper, "Listen! it is certain that he has come here, because he
saw you here in a dream, and if he does not find you, he intends to
surrender his life; so let us remain here concealed, and see what he
means to do."
And while they remained there in concealment, Muktáphaladhvaja
entered, and worshipped the god, and came out. And when he came out,
he devoutly walked round the temple three times, keeping his right
hand towards it, and then he and his friend remembered their former
birth, and in their joy they were telling to one another the events
of their life as Vidyádharas, when Padmávatí met their view. And
Muktáphaladhvaja, remembering the occurrences of his former life,
as soon as he saw her, was filled with joy, and said to his friend,
"Lo! this very princess Padmávatí, the lady I saw in my dream! and
she has come here by good luck; so I will at once go and speak to her."
When he had said this, he went up to her weeping and said,
"Princess, do not go away anywhere now; for I am your former lover
Muktáphalaketu. I became a man by the curse of the hermit Dridhavrata,
and I have now remembered my former birth." When he had said this,
he tried, in his eagerness, to embrace her. But she was alarmed and
made herself invisible, and remained there with her eyes full of tears:
and the prince, not seeing her, fell on the ground in a swoon.
Then his friend sorrowfully spoke these words into the air, "How
is it, princess Padmávatí, that, now this lover has come, for whom
you suffered such severe austerities, you will not speak to him? I
too am Samyataka the comrade of your beloved: why do you not say
something kind to me, as I was cursed for you?" After saying this,
he restored the prince, and said to him, "This punishment has come
upon you as the result of the crime you committed in not accepting
the Daitya princess, who offered herself to you out of love."
When Padmávatí, who was concealed, heard this, she said to her
ladies-in-waiting, "Listen, he has no inclination for Asura
maidens." Then her ladies said to her, "You see that all tallies
together. Do you not remember that long ago, when your beloved was
cursed, he craved as a boon from the hermit Tapodhana, that while
he was a man, his heart might never be inclined to any one but
Padmávatí. It is in virtue of that boon that he now feels no love
for other women." When the princess heard this, she was bewildered
with doubt.
Then Muktáphaladhvaja, who had no sooner seen his beloved, than she
disappeared from his eyes, cried out, "Ah! my beloved Padmávatí, do you
not see that when I was a Vidyádhara, I incurred a curse in Meghavana
for your sake? And now be assured that I shall meet my death here."
When Padmávatí heard him utter this and other laments, she said
to her ladies-in-waiting, "Though all indications seem to tally,
still these two may possibly have heard these things at some time
or other by communication from mouth to mouth, and therefore my
mind is not convinced. But I cannot bear to listen to his sorrowful
exclamations, so I will go to that temple of Gaurí; moreover it is
the hour of worship for me there." When Padmávatí had said this,
she went with her ladies-in-waiting to that hermitage of Ambiká,
and after worshipping the goddess she offered this prayer, "If the
man I have just seen in Siddhísvara is really my former lover, bring
about for me, goddess, my speedy reunion with him."
And while Padmávatí was there, longing for her beloved,
Muktáphaladhvaja, who had remained behind in Siddhísvara, said to his
friend Mahábuddhi, who had been in a former life his friend Samyataka,
"I am convinced, my friend, that she has gone to her own haunt, that
temple of Gaurí; so come, let us go there." When he had said this,
he ascended that chariot of his, which went wherever the mind desired,
and flew to that hermitage of Ambiká.
When Padmávatí's ladies-in-waiting saw him afar off, coming down in the
chariot from the sky, they said to Padmávatí, "Princess, behold this
marvel. He has come here also, travelling in an air-going chariot;
how can he, a mere man, have such power?" Then Padmávatí said, "My
friends, do you not remember that on Dridhavrata, who cursed him,
I laid the following curse, 'When my beloved is incarnate as a man,
you shall be his vehicle, assuming any desired shape, and moving in
obedience to a wish.' So, no doubt, this is that hermit's pupil,
his vehicle, wearing at present the form of an air-going chariot,
and by means of it he roams everywhere at will."
When she said this, her ladies-in-waiting said to her, "If you know
this to be the case, princess, why do you not speak to him? What are
you waiting for?" When Padmávatí heard this speech of her ladies',
she went on to say, "I think that this probably is the case, but I
am not absolutely certain as yet. But, even supposing he really is my
beloved, how can I approach him, now that he is not in his own body,
but in another body? So, let us for a time watch his proceedings,
being ourselves concealed." When the princess had said this, she
remained there concealed, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting.
Then Muktáphaladhvaja descended from the chariot in that hermitage
of Ambiká, and being full of longing, said to his friend, "Here I
had my first interview with my beloved, when she had been terrified
by the Rákshasís; and I again saw her in the garden here, when she
came having chosen me for her own; and here I received the curse, and
she wished to follow me by dying; but was, though with difficulty,
prevented by that great hermit: and now, see, that very same lady
flies out of reach of my eyes."
When Padmávatí heard him speak thus, she said to her ladies-in-waiting,
"True, my friends, it is really my beloved, but how can I approach him,
before he has entered his former body? In this matter Siddhísvara
is my only hope. He sent me the dream, and he will provide for me
a way out of my difficulties." When she had formed this resolution,
she went back to Siddhísvara. And she worshipped that manifestation
of Siva, and offered this prayer to him, "Unite me with my beloved in
his former body, or bestow death on me. I see no third way of escape
from my woe." And then she remained with her friends in the court of
the god's temple.
In the meanwhile Muktáphaladhvaja searched for the princess in the
temple of Gaurí, and not finding her was despondent, and said to that
friend, "I have not found her here; let us go back to that temple of
Siva; if I cannot find her there, I will enter the fire."
When that friend heard it, he said, "Good luck will befall you! The
word of the hermit and Siva's promise in your dream cannot be
falsified." With those words did Muktáphaladhvaja's friend try to
comfort him; and then Muktáphaladhvaja ascended the chariot, and went
with him to Siddhísvara.
When Padmávatí saw him arrive, she still remained there invisible,
and she said to her ladies-in-waiting, "Look! he has come to this very
place." He too entered, and seeing that offerings had been recently
placed in front of the god, prince Muktáphaladhvaja said to that
companion of his, "Look, my friend, some one has been quite recently
worshipping this symbol of the god; surely, that beloved of mine
must be somewhere here, and she must have done this worship." When
he had said this, he looked for her, but could not find her; and
then in the anguish of separation he cried out again and again,
"Ah! my beloved Padmávatí!"
Then, thinking that the cry of the cuckoo was her voice, and that the
tail of the peacock was her hair, and that the lotus was her face,
the prince ran wildly about, overpowered with an attack of the fever
of love, and with difficulty did his friend console him; and coaxing
him, he said to him, "What is this that you have taken up, being weak
with much fasting? Why do you disregard your own welfare, though you
have conquered the earth and Pátála? Your father Merudhvaja, and king
Trailokyamálin, the king of the Dánavas, your future father-in-law,
and his daughter Trailokyaprabhá, who wishes to marry you, and your
mother Vinayavatí, and your younger brother Malayadhvaja will, if
you do not go to them, suspect that some misfortune has happened,
and fasting as they are, will give up their breath. So come along! Let
us go and save their lives, for the day is at an end."
When Muktáphaladhvaja's friend said this to him, he answered him,
"Then go yourself in my chariot and comfort them." Then his friend
said, "How will that hermit's pupil, who has been made your vehicle by
a curse, submit to me?" When the prince's friend said this, he replied,
"Then wait a little, my friend; let us see what will happen here."
When Padmávatí heard this conversation of theirs, she said to her
ladies-in-waiting, "I know that this is my former lover by all the
notes tallying, but he is degraded by the curse, being enclosed in
a human body, and I too am thus afflicted with a curse, because I
laughed at the Siddha-maiden." While she was saying this, the moon
rose, red in hue, the fire that devours the forest of separated
lovers. And gradually the moonlight filled the world on every side,
and the flame of love's fire filled the heart of Muktáphaladhvaja.
Then the prince began to lament like a chakraváka at the approach of
night; and Padmávatí, who was concealed, being despondent, said to
him, "Prince, though you are my former lover, still, as you are now
in another body, you are to me a strange man, and I am to you as the
wife of another; so why do you lament again and again? Surely some
means will be provided, if that speech of the hermit's was true."
When Muktáphaladhvaja heard this speech of hers, and could not see her,
he fell into a state which was painful from the contending emotions of
joy and despondency; and he said to her, "Princess, my former birth
has returned to my recollection, and so I recognised you, as soon as
I saw you, for you still wear your old body, but as you saw me when I
was dwelling in my Vidyádhara [726] body, how can you recognise me,
now that I am in a mortal body? So I must certainly abandon this
accursed frame." When he had said this, he remained silent, and his
beloved continued in concealment.
Then, the night being almost gone, and his friend Mahábuddhi, who
was formerly Samyataka, having gone to sleep out of weariness, prince
Muktáphaladhvaja, thinking that he could never obtain Padmávatí, as
long as he continued in that body, collected wood, [727] and lighted a
fire; and worshipped Siva embodied in the linga, uttering this prayer,
"Holy one, may I by thy favour return to my former body, and soon
obtain my beloved Padmávatí!" And having said this, he consumed his
body in that blazing fire.
And in the meanwhile Mahábuddhi woke up, and not being able, in spite
of careful search, to find Muktáphaladhvaja, and seeing the fire
blazing up, he came to the conclusion that his friend, distracted
with separation, had burnt himself, and out of regret for his loss,
he flung himself into that same fire.
When Padmávatí saw that, she was tortured with grief, and she said to
her ladies-in-waiting, "Alas! Fie! the female heart is harder than
the thunderbolt, otherwise my breath must have left me beholding
this horror. So, how long am I to retain this wretched life? Even
now, owing to my demerits, there is no end to my woe; moreover, the
promise of that hermit has been falsified; so it is better that I
should die. But it is not fitting that I should enter this fire and be
mixed up with strange men, so in this difficult conjuncture hanging,
which gives no trouble, is my best resource." When the princess had
said this, she went in front of Siva, and proceeded to make a noose
by means of a creeper, which she fastened to an asoka-tree.
And while her ladies-in-waiting were trying to prevent her by
encouraging speeches, that hermit Tapodhana came there. He said,
"My daughter, do not act rashly, that promise of mine will not be
falsified. Be of good courage, you shall see that husband of yours
come here in a moment. His curse has been just now cancelled by virtue
of your penance; so why do you now distrust the power of your own
austerities? And why do you shew this despondency when your marriage
is at hand? I have come here because I learnt all this by my power of
meditation." When Padmávatí saw the hermit approaching uttering these
words, she bowed before him, and was for a moment, as it were, swung
to and fro by perplexity. Then her beloved Muktáphalaketu, having by
the burning of his mortal body entered his own Vidyádhara body, came
there with his friend. And Padmávatí, seeing that son of the king of
the Vidyádharas coming through the air, as a female chátaka beholds
a fresh rain-cloud, or a kumudvatí the full moon newly risen, felt
indescribable joy in her heart. And Muktáphalaketu, when he saw her,
rejoiced, and so to speak, drank her in with his eyes, as a traveller,
wearied with long wandering in a desert, rejoices, when he beholds
a river. And those two, reunited like a couple of chakravákas by the
termination of the night of their curse, took their fill of falling at
the feet of that hermit of glowing brilliancy. [728] Then that great
hermit welcomed them in the following words, "My heart has been fully
gratified to-day by seeing you reunited, happy at having come to the
end of your curse."
And when the night had passed, king Merudhvaja came there in search
of them, mounted on the elephant of Indra, accompanied by his wife
and his youngest son, and also Trailokyamálin the sovereign of the
Daityas, with his daughter Trailokyaprabhá, mounted on a chariot,
attended by his harem and his suite. Then the hermit pointed out
Muktáphalaketu to those two kings and described what had taken place,
how he had become a man by a curse, in order to do a service to the
gods, and how he had been delivered from his human condition. And
when Merudhvaja and the others heard that, though they were before
eager to throw themselves into the fire, they bathed in Siddhodaka and
worshipped Siva, by the hermit's direction, and were at once delivered
from their sorrow. Then that Trailokyaprabhá suddenly called to mind
her birth and said to herself "Truly I am that same Devaprabhá, the
daughter of the king of the Siddhas, who, when undergoing austerities
[729] in order that the emperor of all the Vidyádharas might be my
husband, was ridiculed by Padmávatí, and entered the fire to gain
the fulfilment of my desire. And now I have been born in this Daitya
race, and here is this very prince with whom I was in love, who has
recovered his Vidyádhara body. But it is not fitting that, now that
his body is changed, he should be united to this body of mine, so I
will consume my Asura body also in the fire, in order to obtain him."
Having gone through these reflections in her mind, and having
communicated her intention to her parents, she entered [730] the fire
which had consumed Muktáphaladhvaja; and then the god of fire himself
appeared with her, on whom out of pity he had bestowed her former body,
and said to Muktáphaladhvaja, "Muktáphaladhvaja, this lady Devaprabhá,
the daughter of the king of the Siddhas, for thy sake abandoned her
body in me; so receive her as thy wife." When the god of fire had
said this, he disappeared; and Brahmá came there with Indra and the
rest of the gods, and Padmasekhara the king of the Gandharvas, with
Chandraketu, the sovereign of the Vidyádharas. Then that prosperous
king of the Gandharvas [731] gave his daughter Padmávatí, with due
rites and much activity on the part of his followers, as wife to
Muktáphalaketu, who bowed before him, congratulated by all. And then
that prince of the Vidyádharas, having obtained that beloved, whom
he had so long desired, considered that he had gathered the fruit
of the tree of his birth, and married also that Siddha-maiden. And
prince Malayadhvaja was united to that Daitya princess, his beloved
Tribhuvanaprabhá, whom her father bestowed on him with due rites. Then
Merudhvaja, having, on account of his son Malayadhvaja's complete
success, anointed him to be sole ruler of a kingdom extending over
the earth with all its islands, went with his wife to the forest to
perform austerities. And Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, went
with his wife to his own region, and Indra gave to Muktáphalaketu the
splendid kingdom of Vidyuddhvaja. And this voice came from heaven,
"Let this Muktáphalaketu enjoy the sovereignty over the Vidyádharas
and Asuras, and let the gods go to their own abodes!" When they heard
that voice, Brahmá and Indra and the other gods went away delighted,
and the hermit Tapodhana went with his pupil, who was released from
his curse, and Chandraketu went to his own Vidyádhara home, with his
son Muktáphalaketu who was graced by two wives. And there the king,
together with his son, long enjoyed the dignity of emperor over the
Vidyádharas, but at last he threw on him the burden of his kingdom,
and, disgusted with the world and its pleasures, went with the queen to
an ascetic grove of hermits. And Muktáphalaketu, having before obtained
from Indra the rule over the Asuras, and again from his father the
empire over the Vidyádharas, enjoyed, in the society of Padmávatí,
who seemed like an incarnation of happiness, for ten kalpas, the good
fortune of all the pleasures which the sway of those two wealthy realms
could yield, and thus obtained the highest success. But he saw that
passions are in their end distasteful, and at last he entered a wood
of mighty hermits, and by the eminence of his asceticism obtained
the highest glory, and became a companion of the lord Siva.
Thus king Brahmadatta and his wife and his minister heard this
romantic tale from the couple of swans, and gained knowledge from their
teaching, and obtained the power of flying through the air like gods;
and then they went accompanied by those two birds to Siddhísvara,
[732] and there they all laid aside the bodies they had entered in
consequence of the curse, and were reinstated in their former position
as attendants upon Siva. [733]
Hearing this story from Gomukha in the absence of Madanamanchuká,
for a moment only, hermits, I cheered my heart with hope.
When the emperor Naraváhanadatta had told this story, those hermits
in the hermitage of Kasyapa, accompanied by Gopálaka, rejoiced
exceedingly.
BOOK XVIII.
CHAPTER CXX.
Glory be to that god, half of whose body is the moon-faced Párvatí,
who is smeared with ashes white as the rays of the moon, whose eyes
gleam with a fire like that of the sun and moon, who wears a half-moon
on his head!
May that elephant-faced god protect you, who, with his trunk bent at
the end, uplifted in sport, appears to be bestowing successes!
Then Naraváhanadatta, in the hermitage of the hermit Kasyapa,
on that Black Mountain, said to the assembled hermits, "Moreover,
when, during my separation from the queen, Vegavatí, who was in love
with me, took me and made me over to the protection of a Science,
I longed to abandon the body, being separated from my beloved and
in a foreign land; but while, in this state of mind, I was roaming
about in a remote part of the forest, I beheld the great hermit Kanva.
"That compassionate hermit, seeing me bowing at his feet, and knowing
by the insight of profound meditation that I was miserable, took me
to his hermitage, and said to me, 'Why are you distracted, though you
are a hero sprung from the race of the Moon? As the ordinance of the
god standeth sure, why should you despair of reunion with your wife?
"'The most unexpected meetings do take place for men in this world; I
will tell you, to illustrate this, the story of Vikramáditya; listen.'"
The story of Vikramáditya.
There is in Avanti a famous city, named Ujjayiní, the dwelling-place
of Siva, built by Visvakarman in the commencement or the Yuga; which,
like a virtuous woman, is invincible by strangers; like a lotus-plant
is the resort of the goddess of prosperity; like the heart of the good,
is rich in virtue; like the earth, is full of many wonderful sights.
There dwelt in that city a world-conquering king, named Mahendráditya,
the slayer of his enemies' armies, like Indra in Amarávatí. In regard
of prowess he was a wielder of many weapons; in regard of beauty he
was the flower-weaponed god [734] himself; his hand was ever open in
bounty, but was firmly clenched on the hilt of his sword. That king had
a wife named Saumyadarsaná, who was to him as Sachí to Indra, as Gaurí
to Siva, as Srí to Vishnu. And that king had a great minister named
Sumati, and a warder named Vajráyudha, in whose family the office was
hereditary. With these the king remained ruling his realm, propitiating
Siva, and ever bearing various vows in order to obtain a son.
In the meanwhile, as Siva was with Párvatí on the mighty mountain
Kailása, the glens of which are visited by troops of gods, which is
beautiful with the smile that the Northern quarter smiles joyous at
vanquishing all the others, all the gods with Indra at their head came
to visit him, being afflicted by the oppression of the Mlechchhas;
and the immortals bowed, and then sat down and praised Siva; and when
he asked them the reason of their coming, they addressed to him this
prayer: "O god, those Asuras, who were slain by thee and Vishnu, have
been now again born on the earth in the form of Mlechchhas. They slay
Bráhmans, they interfere with the sacrifices and other ceremonies,
and they carry off the daughters of hermits: indeed, what crime do not
the villains commit? Now, thou knowest, lord, that the world of gods
is ever nourished by the earth, for the oblation offered in the fire by
Bráhmans nourishes the dwellers in heaven. But, as the Mlechchhas have
overrun the earth, the auspicious words are nowhere pronounced over
the burnt-offering, and the world of gods is being exhausted by the
cutting off of their share of the sacrifice and other supplies. [735]
So devise an expedient in this matter; cause some hero to become
incarnate on the earth, mighty enough to destroy those Mlechchhas."
When Siva had been thus entreated by the gods, he said to them,
"Depart; you need not be anxious about this matter; be at your
ease. Rest assured that I will soon devise an expedient which will
meet the difficulty." When Siva had said this, he dismissed the gods
to their abodes. [736]
And when they had gone, the Holy one, with Párvatí at his side,
summoned a Gana, named Mályavat, and gave him this order, "My son,
descend into the condition of a man, and be born in the city of
Ujjayiní as the brave son of king Mahendráditya. That king is a
portion of me, and his wife is sprung from a portion of Ambiká;
be born in their family, and do the heaven-dwellers the service they
require. Slay all those Mlechchhas that obstruct the fulfilment of the
law contained in the three Vedas. And by my favour thou shalt be a king
ruling over the seven divisions of the world; moreover the Rákshasas,
the Yakshas and the Vetálas shall own thy supremacy; [737] and after
thou hast enjoyed human pleasures, thou shalt again return to me."
When the Gana Mályavat received this command from Siva, he said
"The command of you two divine beings cannot be disobeyed by me:
but what enjoyments are there in the life of a man, which involves
separations from relations, friends, and servants, very hard to bear,
and the pain arising from loss of wealth, old age, disease, and the
other ills of humanity?" When the Gana said this to Siva, the god
thus replied, "Go, blameless one! These woes shall not fall to thy
lot; by my favour thou shalt be happy throughout the whole of thy
sojourn on earth." When Siva said this to Mályavat, that virtuous Gana
immediately disappeared. And he went and was conceived in Ujjayiní,
in the proper season, in the womb of the queen of king Mahendráditya.
And at that time the god, whose diadem is fashioned of a digit of the
moon, said to that king in a dream, "I am pleased with thee, king, so
a son shall be born to thee, who by his might shall conquer the earth
with all its divisions; and that hero shall reduce under his sway the
Yakshas, Rákshasas, Pisáchas and others, even those that move in the
air, and dwell in Pátála, and shall slay the hosts of the Mlechchhas;
for this reason he shall be named Vikramáditya; and also Vishamasíla
on account of his stern hostility [738] to his enemies."
When the god had said this, he disappeared; and next morning the
king woke up, and joyfully related his dream to his ministers. And
they also told the king, one after another, with great delight,
that Siva had made a revelation to each of them in a dream that he
was to have a son. And at that moment a handmaid of the harem came
and shewed the king a fruit, saying, "Siva gave this to the queen in
a dream." Then the king rejoiced, saying, again and again, "Truly,
Siva has given me a son," and his ministers congratulated him.
Then his illustrious queen became pregnant, like the eastern quarter
in the morning, when the orb of the sun is about to arise, and she
was conspicuous for the black tint of the nipples of her breasts,
which appeared like a seal to secure the milk for the king with whom
she was pregnant. In her dreams at that time she crossed seven seas,
being worshipped by all the Yakshas, Vetálas, and Rákshasas. And
when the due time was come, she brought forth a glorious son, who
lit up the chamber, as the rising sun does the heaven. And when he
was born, the sky became indeed glorious, laughing with the falling
rain of flowers, and ringing with the noise of the gods' drums. And
on that occasion the city was altogether distracted with festive
joy, and appeared as if intoxicated, as if possessed by a demon,
as if generally wind-struck. And at that time the king rained wealth
there so unceasingly, that, except the Buddhists, no one was without
a god. [739] And king Mahendráditya gave him the name of Vikramáditya,
which Siva had mentioned, and also that of Vishamasíla.
When some more days had passed, there was born to that king's minister,
named Sumati, a son of the name of Mahámati, and the warder Vajráyudha
had a son born to him, named Bhadhráyudha, and the chaplain Mahídhara
had a son of the name of Srídhara. And that prince Vikramáditya
grew up with those three minister's sons, as with spirit, courage,
and might. When he was invested with the sacred thread, and put
under teachers, they were merely the occasions of his learning the
sciences, which revealed themselves to him without effort. And whatever
science or accomplishment he was seen to employ, was known by those,
who understood it, to be possessed by him to the highest degree of
excellence. And when people saw that prince fighting with heavenly
weapons, they even began to pay less attention to the stories about
the great archer Ráma and other heroes of the kind. And his father
brought for him beautiful maidens, given by kings who had submitted
after defeat, like so many goddesses of Fortune.
Then his father, king Mahendráditya, seeing that his son was in the
bloom of early manhood, of great valour, and beloved by the subjects,
duly anointed him heir to his realm, and being himself old, retired
with his wife and ministers to Váránasí, [740] and made the god Siva
his refuge.
And king Vikramáditya, having obtained that kingdom of his father,
began in due course to blaze forth, as the sun, when it has occupied
the sky. Even haughty kings, when they saw the string fitted into
the notch of his bending bow, [741] learnt a lesson from that weapon,
and bent likewise on every side. Of godlike dignity, having subdued
to his sway even Vetálas, Rákshasas and other demons, he chastised
righteously those that followed evil courses. The armies of that
Vikramáditya roamed over the earth like the rays of the sun, shedding
into every quarter the light of order. Though that king was a mighty
hero, he dreaded the other world, though a brave warrior, he was
not hard-handed, [742] though not uxorious, he was beloved by his
wives. He was the father of all the fatherless, the friend of all
the friendless, and the protector of all the unprotected among his
subjects. Surely his glory furnished the Disposer with the material
out of which he built up the White Island, the Sea of Milk, Mount
Kailása, and the Himálayas. [743]
And one day, as the king Vikramáditya was in the hall of assembly, the
warder Bhadráyudha came in and said to him, "Your Majesty despatched
Vikramasakti with an army to conquer the southern region and other
territories, and then sent to him a messenger named Anangadeva;
that messenger has now returned, and is at the gate with another,
and his delighted face announces good tidings, my lord." The king
said, "Let him enter," and then the warder respectfully introduced
Anangadeva, with his companion. The messenger entered and bowed,
and shouted "Victory" [744] and sat down in front of the king; and
then the king said to him, "Is it well with king Vikramasakti, the
general of my forces, and with Vyághrabala and the other kings? And
does good fortune attend on the other chief Rájpúts in his army,
and on the elephants, horses, chariots and footmen?"
When Anangadeva had been thus questioned by the king, he answered, "It
is well with Vikramasakti and the whole of the army. And Your Majesty
has conquered the Dekkan and the western border, and Madhyadesa and
Sauráshtra and all the eastern region of the Ganges; and the northern
region and Kasmíra have been made tributary, and various forts and
islands have been conquered, and the hosts of the Mlechchhas have
been slain, and the rest have been reduced to submission, and various
kings have entered the camp of Vikramasakti, and he himself is coming
here with those kings, and is now, my lord, two or three marches off."
When the messenger had thus told his tale, king Vikramáditya
was pleased and loaded [745] him with garments, ornaments, and
villages. Then the king went on to say to that noble messenger,
"Anangadeva, when you went there, what regions did you see, and
what object of interest did you meet with anywhere? Tell me, my
good fellow!" When Anangadeva had been thus questioned by the king,
he began to recount his adventures, as follows:--
The adventures of Anangadeva.
Having set out hence by Your Majesty's orders, I reached in course
of time that army of yours assembled under Vikramasakti, which
was like a broad sea resorted to by allied kings, adorned by many
princes of the Nágas that had come together with horses and royal
magnificence. [746] And when I arrived there, that Vikramasakti bowed
before me, and treated me with great respect, because I had been
sent by his sovereign; and while I was there considering the nature
of the triumphs he had gained, a messenger from the king of Sinhala
[747] came there.
And that messenger, who had come from Sinhala, told to Vikramasakti
in my presence his master's message as follows, "I have been told
by messengers, who have been sent by me to your sovereign and have
returned, that your sovereign's very heart Anangadeva is with you,
so send him to me quickly, I will reveal to him a certain auspicious
affair, that concerns your king." Then Vikramasakti said to me,
"Go quickly to the king of Sinhala; and see what he wishes to say to
you when he has you before him."
Then I went through the sea in a ship to the island of Sinhala with
that king of Sinhala's ambassador. And in that island I saw a palace
all made of gold, with terraces of various jewels, like the city of
the gods. And in it I saw that king of Sinhala, Vírasena, surrounded
by obedient ministers, as Indra is by the gods. When I approached him,
he received me politely, and asked me about Your Majesty's health,
and then he refreshed me with most sumptuous hospitality.
The next day the king summoned me, when he was in his hall of audience;
and showing his devotion to you, said to me in the presence of his
ministers, "I have a maiden daughter, the peerless beauty of the world
of mortals, Madanalekhá by name, and I offer her to your king. She
is a fitting wife for him, and he is a suitable husband for her;
for this reason I have invited you; so accept her in the name of your
king. [748] And go on in front with my ambassador to tell your master;
I will send my daughter here close after you."
When the king had said this, he summoned into that hall his daughter
whose load of ornaments was adorned by her graceful shape, loveliness,
and youth. And he made her sit on his lap, and shewing her, said to
me, "I offer this girl to your master, receive her." And when I saw
that princess, I was astonished at her beauty, and I said joyfully, "I
accept this maiden on behalf of my sovereign," and I thought to myself,
"Well, the Creator is never tired of producing marvels, since even
after creating Tilottamá, he has produced this far superior beauty."
Then, having been honoured by that king, I set forth from that island,
with this ambassador of his, Dhavalasena. So we embarked on a ship,
and as we were sailing along in it, through the sea, we suddenly
saw a great sandbank in the middle of the ocean. And on it we saw
two maidens of singular beauty; one had a body as dark as priyangu,
the other gleamed white like the moon, and they both looked more
splendid from having put on dresses and ornaments suited to their
respective hues. They made a sound like the clashing of cymbals with
their bracelets adorned with splendid gems, and they were making
a young toy-deer, which, though of gold and studded with jewels
to represent spots, possessed life, dance in front of them. [749]
When we saw this, we were astonished and we said to one another,
"What can this wonder mean? Is it a dream, magic, or delusion? Who
would ever expect to see a sandbank suddenly start up in the middle
of the ocean, or such maidens upon it? And who would ever have thought
of seeing such a thing as this living golden deer studded with jewels,
which they possess? Such things are not usually found together."
While we were saying this to one another, king, in the greatest
astonishment, a wind suddenly began to blow, tossing up the sea. That
wind broke up our ship, which was resting on the surging waves,
and the people in it were whelmed in the sea, and the sea-monsters
began to devour them. But those two maidens came and supported both
of us in their arms, and lifted us up and carried us to the sandbank,
so that we escaped the jaws of the sea-monsters. And then that bank
began to be covered with waves, at which we were terrified, but those
two ladies cheered us, and made us enter what seemed like the interior
of a cave. There we began to look at a heavenly wood of various trees,
and while we were looking at it, the sea disappeared, and the bank,
and the young deer, and the maidens.
We wandered about there for a time, saying to ourselves, "What is this
strange thing? It is assuredly some magic." And then we saw there
a great lake, transparent, deep, and broad, like the heart of great
men, looking like a material representation of Nirvána that allays
the fire of desire. [750]
And we saw a certain beautiful woman, coming to bathe in it,
accompanied by her train, looking like an incarnation of the beauty
of the wood. And that lady alighted from her covered chariot, [751]
and gathered lotuses in that lake, and bathed in it, and meditated on
Siva. And thereupon, to our astonishment, Siva arose from the lake,
a present god, in the form of a linga, composed of splendid jewels,
and came near her; and that fair one worshipped him with various
luxuries suited to her majesty, and then took her lyre. And she played
upon it, singing skilfully to it with rapt devotion, following the
southern style in respect of notes, time, and words. So splendid was
her performance that even the Siddhas and other beings appeared there
in the air, having their hearts attracted by hearing it, and remained
motionless as if painted. And after she had finished her music, [752]
she dismissed the god, and he immediately sank in the lake. Then the
gazelle-eyed lady rose up, and mounted her chariot, and proceeded to
go away slowly with her train.
We followed her, and eagerly asked her train over and over again, who
she was, but none of them gave us any answer. Then, wishing to shew
that ambassador of the king of Sinhala your might, I said to her aloud,
"Auspicious one, I adjure thee by the touch of king Vikramáditya's
feet, that thou depart not hence without revealing to me who thou
art." When the lady heard this, she made her train retire, and alighted
from her chariot, and coming up to me, she said with a gentle voice,
"Is my lord the noble king Vikramáditya well? But why do I ask,
Anangadeva, since I know all about him? For I exerted magic power,
and brought you here for the sake of that king, for I must honour him,
as he delivered me from a great danger. So come to my palace; there
I will tell you all, who I am, and why I ought to honour that king,
and what service he needs to have done him."
When she had said this, having left her chariot out of courtesy, that
fair one went along the path on foot and respectfully conducted me to
her castle, which looked like heaven; it was built of various jewels
and different kinds of gold; its gates were guarded on every side by
brave warriors wearing various forms, and bearing various weapons;
and it was full of noble ladies of remarkable beauty, looking as if
they were charms that drew down endless heavenly enjoyments. There
she honoured us with baths, unguents, splendid dresses and ornaments,
and made us rest for a time.
CHAPTER CXXI.
When Anangadeva had told this to king Vikramáditya in his hall of
audience, he continued as follows:--
Then, after I had taken food, that lady, sitting in the midst of her
attendants, said to me, "Listen, Anangadeva, I will now tell you all."
Story of Madanamanjarí.
I am Madanamanjarí, the daughter of Dundubhi the king of the Yakshas,
and the wife of Manibhadra the brother of Kuvera. I used always to
roam about happily with my husband on the banks of rivers, on hills,
and in charming groves.
And one day I went with my beloved to a garden in Ujjayiní called
Makaranda to amuse myself. There it happened that in the dawn
a low hypocritical scoundrel of a kápálika [753] saw me, when I
had just woke up from a sleep brought on by the fatigue of roaming
about. That rascal, being overcome with love, went into a cemetery,
and proceeded to try and procure me for his wife by means of a spell,
and a burnt-offering. But I by my power found out what he was about,
and informed my husband; and he told his elder brother Kuvera. And
Kuvera went and complained to Brahmá, and the holy Brahmá, after
meditating, said to him, "It is true that kápálika intends to rob
your brother of his wife, for such is the power of those spells for
mastering Yakshas, which he possesses. But when she feels herself
being drawn along by the spell, she must invoke the protection of king
Vikramáditya; he will save her from him." Then Kuvera came and told
this answer of Brahmá's to my husband, and my husband told it to me,
whose mind was troubled by that wicked spell.
And in the meanwhile that hypocritical kápálika, offering a
burnt-offering in the cemetery, began to draw me to him by means of
a spell, duly muttered in a circle. And I, being drawn by that spell,
reached in an agony of terror that awful cemetery, full of bones and
skulls, haunted by demons. And then I saw there that wicked kápálika:
he had made an offering to the fire, and he had in a circle a corpse
lying on its back, which he had been worshipping. And that kápálika,
when he saw that I had arrived, was beside himself with pride, and
with difficulty tore himself away to rinse his mouth in a river,
which happened to be near.
At that moment I called to mind what Brahmá had said, and I thought,
"Why should I not call to the king for aid? He may be roaming about
in the darkness somewhere near." When I had said this to myself,
I called aloud for his help in the following words, "Deliver me,
noble king Vikramáditya! See, protecting talisman of the world, this
kápálika is bent on outraging by force, in your realm, me a chaste
matron, the Yakshí Madanamanjarí by name, the daughter of Dundubhi,
and the wife of Manibhadra the younger brother of Kuvera."
No sooner had I finished this plaintive appeal, than I saw that king
coming towards me, sword in hand; he seemed to be all resplendent with
brightness of valour, and he said to me, "My good lady, do not fear;
be at ease; I will deliver you from that kápálika, fair one. For who
is able to work such unrighteousness in my realm?" When he had said
this, he summoned a Vetála, named Agnisikha. And he, when summoned,
came, tall, with flaming eyes, with upstanding hair; and said to
the king, "Tell me what I am to do." Then the king said, "Kill and
eat this wicked kápálika, who is trying to carry off his neighbour's
wife." Then that Vetála Agnisikha entered the corpse that was in the
circle of adoration, and rose up, and rushed forward, stretching out
his arms and mouth. And when the kápálika, who had come back from
rinsing his mouth, was preparing to fly, he seized him from behind
by the legs; and he whirled him round in the air and then dashed him
down with great force on the earth, and so at one blow crushed his
body and his aspirations.
When the demons saw the kápálika slain, they were all eager for flesh,
and a fierce Vetála, named Yamasikha, came there. As soon as he came,
he seized the body of the kápálika; then the first Vetála Agnisikha
said to him, "Hear, villain! I have killed this kápálika by the
order of king Vikramáditya; pray what have you to do with him?" When
Yamasikha heard that, he said to him, "Then tell me, what kind of
power has that king?" Then Agnisikha said, "If you do not know the
nature of his power, listen, I will tell you."
Story of the gambler Dágineya, who was too cunning for the Vetála
Agnisikha, and of Agnisikha's submission to king Vikramáditya.
There once lived in this city a very resolute gambler of the name
of Dágineya. Once on a time some gamblers, by fraudulent play, won
from him all he possessed, and then bound him in order to obtain from
him the borrowed money which he had lost in addition. And as he had
nothing, they beat him with sticks and other instruments of torture,
[754] but he made himself like a stone, and seemed as rigid as a
corpse. Then all those wicked gamblers took him and threw him into a
large dark well, fearing that, if he lived, he might take vengeance
on them.
But that gambler Dágineya, when flung down into that very deep well,
saw in front of him two great and terrible men. But they, when they
saw him fall down terrified, said to him kindly, "Who are you, and
how have you managed to fall into this deep well? Tell us!" Then the
gambler recovered his spirits, and told them his story, and said to
them "Do you also tell me who you are and whence you come." When
those men, who were in the pit, heard that, they said, "Good Sir,
we were Bráhman demons [755] dwelling in the cemetery belonging
to this city, and we possessed two maidens in this very city; one
was the daughter of the principal minister, the other of the chief
merchant. And no conjurer on the earth, however powerful his spells,
was able to deliver those maidens from us.
"Then king Vikramáditya, who had an affection for their fathers, heard
of it, and came to the place, where those maidens were with a friend
of their fathers'. The moment we saw the king, we left the maidens,
and tried to escape, but we were not able to do so, though we tried
our utmost. We saw the whole horizon on fire with his splendour. Then
that king, seeing us, bound us by his power. And seeing us unhappy,
as we were afraid of being put to death, he gave us this order,
'Ye wicked ones, dwell for a year in a dark pit, and then ye shall
be set at liberty. But when freed, ye must never again commit such
a crime; if ye do, I will punish you with destruction.' After king
Vishamasíla had given us this order, he had us flung into this dark
pit; but out of mercy he did not destroy us.
"And in eight more days the year will be completed, and with it
the period during which we were to dwell in this cave, and we shall
then be released from it. Now, friend, if you engage to supply us
with some food during those days, we will lift you out of this pit,
and set you down outside it; but if you do not, when lifted out,
supply us with food according to your engagement, we will certainly,
when we come out, devour you."
When the Bráhman demons made this proposal to the gambler, he consented
to it, and they put him out of the pit. When he got out of it, he went
to the cemetery at night to deal in human flesh, as he saw no other
chance of getting what he wanted. And I, happening to be there at that
time, saw that gambler, who was crying out, "I have human flesh for
sale; buy it somebody." Then I said, "I will take it off your hands;
what price do you want for it?" And he answered, "Give me your shape
and power." Then I said again to him, "My fine fellow, what will you do
with them?" The gambler then told me his whole story, and said to me,
"By means of your shape and power I will get hold of those enemies of
mine, the gamblers, together with the keeper of the gambling-house,
and will give them to the Bráhman demons to eat." When I heard that,
I was pleased with the resolute spirit of that gambler, and gave him
my shape and my power for a specified period of seven days. And by
means of them he drew those men that had injured him into his power,
one after another, and flung them into the pit, and fed the Bráhman
demons on them during seven days.
Then I took back from him my shape and power, and that gambler
Dágineya, beside himself with fear, said to me, "I have not given
those Bráhman demons any food this day, which is the eighth, so they
will now come out and devour me. Tell me what I must do in this case,
for you are my friend." When he said this, I, having got to like him
from being thrown with him, said to him, "If this is the case, since
you have made those two demons devour the gamblers, I for your sake
will in turn eat the demons. So shew them to me, my friend." When I
made the gambler this offer, he at once jumped at it, and took me to
the pit where the demons were.
I, suspecting nothing, bent my head down to look into the pit,
and while I was thus engaged, the gambler put his hand on the back
of my neck, and pushed me into it. When I fell into it, the demons
took me for some one sent for them to eat, and laid hold of me, and
I had a wrestling-match with them. When they found that they could
not overcome the might of my arms, they desisted from the struggle,
and asked me who I was.
Then I told them my own story from the point where my fortunes became
involved with those of Dágineya, [756] and they made friends with me,
and said to me, "Alas! What a trick that evil-minded gambler has played
you, and us two, and those other gamblers! But what confidence can be
placed in gamblers, who profess exclusively the science of cheating,
whose minds are proof against friendship, pity, and gratitude for a
benefit received? Recklessness and disregard of all ties are ingrained
in the nature of gamblers; hear in illustration of this the story
of Thinthákarála."
Story of Thinthákarála the bold gambler.
Long ago there lived in this very city of Ujjayiní a ruffianly gambler,
who was rightly named Thinthákarála. [757] He lost perpetually,
and the others, who won in the game, used to give him every day a
hundred cowries. With those he bought wheat-flour from the market,
and in the evening made cakes by kneading them somewhere or other in
a pot with water, and then he went and cooked them in the flame of
a funeral pyre in the cemetery, and ate them in front of Mahákála,
smearing them with the grease from the lamp burning before him: and
he always slept at night on the ground in the court of the same god's
temple, pillowing his head on his arm.
Now, one night, he saw the images of all the Mothers and of the Yakshas
and other divine beings in the temple of Mahákála trembling from the
proximity of spells, and this thought arose in his bosom, "Why should
I not employ an artful device here to obtain wealth? If it succeeds,
well and good; if it does not succeed, wherein am I the worse?" When
he had gone through these reflections, he challenged those deities
to play, saying to them, "Come now, I will have a game with you, and
I will act as keeper of the gaming-table, and will fling the dice;
and mind, you must always pay up what you lose." When he said this
to the deities they remained silent; so Thinthákarála staked some
spotted cowries, and flung the dice. For this is the universally
accepted rule among gamblers, that, if a gambler does not object to
the dice being thrown, he agrees to play.
Then, having won much gold, he said to the deities, "Pay me the money
I have won, as you agreed to do." But though the gambler said this to
the deities over and over again, they made no answer. Then he flew in
a passion and said to them, "If you remain silent, I will adopt with
you the same course as is usually adopted with a gambler, who will not
pay the money he has lost, but makes himself as stiff as a stone. [758]
I will simply saw through your limbs with a saw as sharp as the points
of Yama's teeth, for I have no respect for anything." When he had said
this, he ran towards them, saw in hand; and the deities immediately
paid him the gold he had won. Next morning he lost it all at play,
and in the evening he came back again, and extorted more money from
the Mothers in the same way by making them play with him.
He went on doing this every day, and those deities, the Mothers, were
in very low spirits about it; then the goddess Chámundá said to them,
"Whoever, when invited to gamble, says 'I sit out of this game' cannot
be forced to play; this is the universal convention among gamblers,
ye Mother deities. So when he invites you, say this to him, and so
baffle him." When Chámundá had said this to the Mothers, they laid
her advice up in their minds. And when the gambler came at night and
invited them to play with him, all the goddesses said with one accord
"We sit out of this game."
When Thinthákarála had been thus repulsed by those goddesses, he
invited their sovereign Mahákála himself to play. But that god,
thinking that the fellow had taken this opportunity of trying to
force him to gamble, said, "I sit out of this game." Even gods, you
see, like feeble persons, are afraid of a thoroughly self-indulgent,
ruffianly scoundrel, flushed with impunity.
Then that Thinthákarála, being depressed at finding his gambler's
artifice baffled by a knowledge of the etiquette of play, was
disgusted, and said to himself, "Alas! I am baffled by these deities
through their learning the conventions of gamblers; so I must now
flee for refuge to this very sovereign of the gods." Having formed
this resolution in his heart, Thinthákarála embraced the feet of
Mahákála, and praising him, addressed to him the following petition;
"I adore thee that sittest naked [759] with thy head resting on thy
knee; thy moon, thy bull, and thy elephant-skin having been won at
play by Deví. When the gods give all powers at thy mere desire, and
when thou art free from longings, having for thy only possessions the
matted lock, the ashes and the skull, how canst thou suddenly have
become avaricious with regard to hapless me, in that thou desirest
to disappoint me for so small a gain? Of a truth the wishing-tree
no longer gratifies the hope of the poor, as thou dost not support
me, lord Bhairava, though thou supportest the world. So, as I have
fled to thee as a suppliant, holy Sthánu, with my mind pierced with
grievous woe, thou oughtest even to pardon presumption in me. Thou
hast three eyes, I have three dice, [760] so I am like thee in one
respect; thou hast ashes on thy body, so have I; thou eatest from a
skull, so do I; shew me mercy. When I have conversed with you gods,
how can I afterwards bear to converse with gamblers? So deliver me
from my calamity."
With this and similar utterances the gambler praised that
Bhairava, until at last the god was pleased, and manifesting
himself, said to him, "Thinthákarála, I am pleased with thee; do
not be despondent. Remain here with me; I will provide thee with
enjoyments." In accordance with this command of the god's that gambler
remained there, enjoying all kinds of luxuries provided by the favour
of the deity.
Now, one night, the god saw certain Apsarases, that had come to
bathe in that holy pool of Mahákála, and he gave this command to
Thinthákarála, "While all these nymphs of heaven are engaged in
bathing, quickly snatch up the clothes, which they have laid on the
bank, and bring them here; and do not give them back their garments,
until they surrender to you this young nymph, named Kalávatí." [761]
"When Thinthákarála had received this command from Bhairava, he went
and carried off the garments of those heavenly beauties, while they
were bathing; and they said to him, "Give us back our garments, please;
do not leave us naked." But he answered them, confident in the power
which Siva gave, "If you will give me the young nymph Kalávatí, I will
give you back these garments, but not otherwise." When they heard that,
seeing that he was a stubborn fellow to deal with, and remembering
that Indra had pronounced a curse of this kind upon Kalávatí, they
agreed to his demand. And on his giving back the garments, they
bestowed on him, in due form, Kalávatí the daughter of Alambushá.
Then the Apsarases departed, and Thinthákarála remained there with
that Kalávatí in a house built by the wish of Siva. And Kalávatí
went in the day to heaven to attend upon the king of the gods, but at
night she always returned [762] to her husband. And one day she said
to him in the ardour of her affection, "My dear, the curse of Siva,
which enabled me to obtain you for a husband, has really proved a
blessing." Thereupon her husband Thinthákarála asked her the cause
of the curse, and the nymph Kalávatí thus answered him:
"One day, when I had seen the gods in a garden, I praised the
enjoyments of mortals, depreciating the pleasures of the dwellers in
heaven, as giving joys that consist only in seeing. [763] When the
king of the gods heard that, he cursed me, saying, 'Thou shalt go and
be married by a mortal, and enjoy those human pleasures.' In this way
has come about our union that is mutually agreeable. And to-morrow I
shall return to heaven after a long absence; do not be unhappy about
it; for Rambhá is going to dance a new piece before Vishnu, and I
must remain there, my beloved, until the exhibition is at an end."
Then Thinthákarála, whom love had made like a spoiled child, said to
her, "I will go there and look at that dance unperceived, take me
there." When Kalávatí heard that, she said, "How is it fitting for
me to do this? The king of the gods might be angry, if he found it
out." Though she said this to him, he continued to press her; then
out of love she agreed to take him there.
So the next morning Kalávatí by her power concealed Thinthákarála
in a lotus, which she placed as an ornament in her ear, and took
him to the palace of Indra. When Thinthákarála saw that palace,
the doors of which were adorned by the elephant of the gods, which
was set off by the garden of Nandana, he thought himself a god, and
was highly delighted. And in the court of Indra, frequented by gods,
he beheld the strange and delightful spectacle of Rambhá's dance,
accompanied by the singing of all the nymphs of heaven. And he heard
all the musical instruments played by Nárada and the other minstrels;
for what is hard to obtain in this world if the supreme god [764]
is favourable to one?
Then, at the end of the exhibition a mime, in the shape of a divine
goat, rose up, and began to dance with heavenly [765] movements. And
Thinthákarála, when he saw him, recognized him, and said to himself,
"Why, I see this goat in Ujjayiní, figuring as a mere animal, and here
he is dancing as a mime before Indra. Of a truth this must be some
strange incomprehensible heavenly delusion." While Thinthákarála was
going through these reflections in his mind, the dance of the goat-mime
came to an end, and then Indra returned to his own place. And then
Kalávatí, in high spirits, also took back Thinthákarála to his own
home, concealed in the lotus-ornament of her ear.
And the next day Thinthákarála beheld in Ujjayiní that goat-formed mime
of the gods, who had returned there, and he insolently said to him,
"Come, dance before me, as you dance before Indra. If you do not, I
shall be angry with you; show off your dancing powers, you mime." When
the goat heard this, he was astonished, and remained silent, saying
to himself, "How can this mere mortal know so much about me?" But
when, in spite of persistent entreaties, the goat refused to dance,
Thinthákarála beat him on the head with sticks.
Then the goat went with bleeding head to Indra, and told him all that
had taken place. And Indra by his supernatural powers of contemplation
discovered the whole secret, how Kalávatí had brought Thinthákarála to
heaven when Rambhá was dancing, and how that profane fellow had there
seen the goat dancing. Then Indra summoned Kalávatí, and pronounced
on her the following curse, "Since, out of love, thou didst secretly
bring here the man who has reduced the goat to this state, to make
him dance, depart and become an image on a pillar in the temple built
by king Narasinha in the city of Nágapura."
When Indra had said this, Alambushá, the mother of Kalávatí, tried
to appease him, and at last he was with difficulty appeased, and he
thus fixed an end to the curse, "When that temple, which it has taken
many years to complete, shall perish and be levelled with the ground,
then shall her curse come to an end." So Kalávatí came weeping and
told to Thinthákarála the curse Indra had pronounced, together with
the end he had appointed to it, and how he himself was to blame,
and then, after giving him her ornaments, she entered into an image
on the front of a pillar in the temple in Nágapura.
Thinthákarála for his part, smitten with the poison of separation
from her, could neither hear nor see, but rolled swooning on the
ground. And when that gambler came to his senses, he uttered this
lament, "Alas! fool that I was, I revealed the secret, though I knew
better all the time; for how can people like myself, who are by nature
thoughtless, shew self-restraint? So now this intolerable separation
has fallen to my lot." However in a moment he said to himself, "This
is no time for me to despond; why should I not recover firmness and
strive to put an end to her curse?"
After going through these reflections, the cunning fellow thought
carefully over the matter, and assuming the dress of a mendicant
devotee, went with rosary, antelope-skin, and matted hair, to
Nágapura. There he secretly buried in a forest outside the city,
four pitchers containing his wife's ornaments, one towards each of
the cardinal points; and one full of sets of the five precious things
[766] he deliberately buried within the city, in the earth of the
market-place, in front of the god himself.
When he had done this, he built a hut on the bank of the river, and
remained there, affecting a hypocritical asceticism, pretending to
be meditating and muttering. And by bathing three times in the day,
and eating only the food given him as alms, after washing it with
water on a stone, he acquired the character of a very holy man.
In course of time his fame reached the ears of the king, and the king
often invited him, but he never went near him: so the king came to
see him, and remained a long time in conversation with him. And in
the evening, when the king was preparing to depart, a female jackal
suddenly uttered a yell at a distance. When the cunning gambler, who
was passing himself off as an ascetic, heard that, he laughed. And
when the king asked him the meaning of the laugh, he said, "Oh! never
mind." But when the king went on persistently questioning him,
the deceitful fellow said, "In the forest to the east of this city,
under a ratan, there is a pitcher full of jewelled ornaments; so take
it. This, king, is what that female jackal told me, for I understand
the language of animals."
Then the king was full of curiosity: so the ascetic took him to
the spot, and dug up the earth, and took out that pitcher, and gave
it to him. Then the king, having obtained the ornaments, began to
have faith in the ascetic, and considered that he not only possessed
supernatural knowledge but was a truthful and unselfish devotee. So he
conducted him to his cell, and prostrated himself at his feet again
and again, and returned to his palace at night with his ministers,
praising his virtues.
In the same way, when the king again came to him, the ascetic pretended
to understand the cry of an animal, and in this way made over to the
king the other three pitchers, buried towards the other three cardinal
points. Then the king, and the citizens, and the king's wives became
exclusively devoted to the ascetic, and were, so to speak, quite
absorbed in him.
Now, one day, the king took that wicked ascetic to the temple for
a moment; so he contrived to hear in the market-place the cry of a
crow. Then he said to the king, "Did you hear what the crow said? 'In
this very market-place there is a pitcher full of valuable jewels
buried in front of the god: why do you not take it up also?' This was
the meaning of his cry; so come, and take possession of it." When
the deceitful ascetic had said this, he conducted him there, and
took up out of the earth the pitcher full of valuable jewels, and
gave it to the king. Then the king, in his excessive satisfaction,
entered the temple holding that pretended seer by the hand.
There the mendicant brushed against that image on the pillar,
which his beloved Kalávatí had entered, and saw her. And Kalávatí,
wearing the form of the image on the pillar, was afflicted when she
saw her husband, and began to weep then and there. When the king and
his attendants saw this, they were amazed, and cast down, and said to
that pretended seer, "Reverend Sir, what is the meaning of this?" Then
the cunning rascal, pretending to be despondent and bewildered, said
to the king, "Come to your palace: there I will tell you this secret,
though it is almost too terrible to be revealed."
When he had said this, he led the king to the palace, and said to him,
"Since you built this temple on an unlucky spot and in an inauspicious
moment, on the third day from now a misfortune will befall you. It
was for this reason that the image on the pillar wept when she saw
you. So, if you care for your body's weal, my sovereign, take this
into consideration, and this very day quickly level this temple with
the earth; and build another temple somewhere else, on a lucky spot,
and in an auspicious moment. Let the evil omen be averted, and ensure
the prosperity of yourself and your kingdom." When he had said this
to the king, he, in his terror, gave command to his subjects, and in
one day levelled that temple with the earth, and he began to build
another temple in another place. So true is it that rogues with their
tricks gain the confidence of princes, and impose upon them.
Accordingly, the gambler Thinthákarála, having gained his object,
abandoned the disguise of a mendicant, and fled, and went to
Ujjayiní. And Kalávatí, finding it out, went to meet him on the road,
freed from her curse and happy, and she comforted him, and then went to
heaven to visit Indra. And Indra was astonished, but when he heard from
her mouth the artifice of her husband the gambler, he laughed and was
highly delighted. Then Vrihaspati, who was at his side, said to Indra,
"Gamblers are always like this, abounding in every kind of trickery."
Story of the gambler who cheated Yama. [767]
For instance, in a previous kalpa there was in a certain city a
gambler, of the name of Kuttaníkapata, accomplished in dishonest
play. When he went to the other world, Indra said to him, "Gambler,
you will have to live a kalpa in hell on account of your crimes, but
owing to your charity you are to be Indra for one day, for once on a
time you gave a gold coin to a knower of the Supreme Soul. So say,
whether you will take out first your period in hell or your period
as Indra." When the gambler heard that, be said, "I will take out
first my period as Indra."
Then Yama sent the gambler to heaven, and the gods deposed Indra for
a day, and crowned him sovereign in his stead. He, having obtained
sovereign sway, summoned to heaven the gamblers his friends and his
female favourites, and in virtue of his regal authority gave this order
to the gods, "Carry us all in a moment to all the holy bathing-places,
[768] those in heaven, and those on earth, and those in the seven
dvípas: and enter this very day into all the kings on the earth,
and bestow without ceasing, great, gifts for our benefit."
When he gave this order to the gods, they did everything as he had
desired, and by means of those holy observances his sins were washed
[769] away, and he obtained the rank of Indra permanently. And by his
favour his friends and his female favourites, that he had summoned to
heaven, had their sins destroyed and obtained immortality. The next
day Chitragupta informed Yama that the gambler had by his discretion
obtained the rank of Indra permanently. Then Yama, hearing of his
meritorious actions, was astonished, and said, "Dear me! this gambler
has cheated us."
When Vrihaspati had told this story, he said, "Such, O wielder of
the thunderbolt, are gamblers," and then held his peace. And then
Indra sent Kalávatí to summon Thinthákarála to heaven. There the king
of the gods, pleased with his cleverness and resolution, honoured
him, and gave him Kalávatí to wife, and made him an attendant on
himself. Then the brave Thinthákarála lived happily, like a god,
in heaven, with Kalávatí, by the favour of Siva.
"So, you see, such is the style in which gamblers exhibit their
treachery and audacity; accordingly Agnisikha the Vampire, what is
there to be surprised at in your having been treacherously thrown
into this well by Dágineya the gambler? So come out of this pit,
friend, and we will come out also."
When the Bráhman demons said this to me, I came up out of that pit,
and being hungry, I came across a Bráhman traveller that night in the
city. So I rushed forward and seized that Bráhman to eat him, but he
invoked the protection of king Vikramáditya. And the moment the king
heard his cry, he rushed out like flame, and while still at a distance,
checked me by exclaiming "Ah villain! do not kill the Bráhman:"
and then he proceeded to cut off the head of a figure of a man he
had drawn; that did not sever my neck, but made it stream with blood.
Then I left the Bráhman and clung to the king's feet, and he spared
my life.
"Such is the power of that god, king Vikramáditya. And it is by his
orders that I have slain this hypocritical kápálika. So he is my proper
prey, to be devoured by me as being a Vetála; let him go, Yamasikha!"
Though Agnisikha made this appeal to Yamasikha, the latter proceeded
contumaciously to drag with his hand the corpse of that hypocritical
kápálika. Then king Vikramáditya appeared there, and drew the figure
of a man on the earth and then cut off its hand with his sword. That
made the hand of Yamasikha fall severed; so he left the corpse, and
fled in fear. And Agnisikha immediately devoured the corpse of that
kápálika. And I witnessed all this, securely protected by the might
of the king. [770]
"In these words did that wife of the Yaksha, Madanamanjarí by name,
describe your power, O king, and then she went on to say to me."
Then, Anangadeva, the king said to me in a gentle voice, "Yakshí, being
delivered from the kápálika, go to the house of your husband." Then
I bowed before him, and returned to this my own home, thinking how I
might repay to that king the benefit he had conferred on me. In this
way your master gave me life, family and husband; and when you tell
him this story of mine, it will agree with his own recollections.
Moreover, I have to-day found out that the king of Sinhala has sent
to that king his daughter, the greatest beauty in the three worlds,
who has of her own accord elected to marry him. And all the kings,
being jealous, have gathered themselves together and formed the
intention of killing Vikramasakti, and the dependent kings, [771]
and of carrying off that maiden. So, do you go, and make known that
their intention to Vikramasakti, in order that he may be on his guard
and ready to repel their attack. And I will exert myself to enable
king Vikramáditya to conquer those enemies and gain the victory.
"For this reason I brought you here by my own deluding power, in order
that you might tell all this to king Vikramasakti and the dependent
monarchs; and I will send to your sovereign such a present as shall to
a certain small extent be a requital for the benefit that he conferred
on me."
While she was saying this, the two maidens, that we had seen in the
sea, came there with the deer; one had a body white as the moon, the
other was dark as a priyangu; so they seemed like Gangá and Yamuná
returned from worshipping the ocean, the monarch of rivers. When they
had sat down, I put this question to the Yakshí, "Goddess, who are
these maidens, and what is the meaning of this golden deer?" When
the Yakshiní heard this, king, she said to me, "Anangadeva, if you
feel any curiosity about the matter, listen, I will tell you."
Story of Ghanta and Nighanta and the two maidens.
Long ago there came to impede Prajápati, in his creation of creatures,
two terrible Dánavas, named Ghanta and Nighanta, invincible even by
gods. And the Creator, being desirous of destroying them, created
these two maidens, the splendour of whose measureless beauty seemed
capable of maddening the world. And those two mighty Asuras, when they
saw these two exceedingly wonderful maidens, tried to carry them off;
and fighting with one another, they both of them met their death. [772]
Then Brahmá bestowed these maidens on Kuvera, saying, "You must give
these girls to some suitable husband;" and Kuvera made them over to my
husband, who is his younger brother; and in the same way my husband
passed these fair ones [773] on to me; and I have thought of king
Vikramáditya as a husband for them, for, as he is an incarnation of
a god, he is a fit person for them to marry.
"Such are the facts with regard to these maidens, now hear the history
of the deer."
Story of the golden deer.
Indra has a beloved son, named Jayanta. Once on a time, when he,
still an infant, was being carried about in the air by the celestial
nymphs, he saw some princes in a wood on earth playing with some young
deer. Then Jayanta [774] went to heaven, and cried in the presence of
his father because he had not got a deer to play with, as a child would
naturally do. Accordingly Indra had a deer made for him by Visvakarman
of gold and jewels, and life was given to the animal by sprinkling it
with nectar. Then Jayanta played with it, and was delighted with it,
and the young deer was continually roaming about in heaven.
In course of time that son of Rávana, who was rightly named Indrajit,
[775] carried off the young deer from heaven and took it to his
own city Lanká. And after a further period had elapsed, Rávana
and Indrajit having been slain by the heroes Ráma and Lakshmana,
to avenge the carrying off of Sítá, and Vibhíshana having been set
upon the throne of Lanká, as king of the Rákshasas, that wonderful
deer of gold and jewels remained in his palace. And once on a time,
when I was taken by my husband's relations to Vibhíshana's palace on
the occasion of a festival, he gave me the deer as a complimentary
present. And that young heaven-born deer is now in my house, and I
must bestow it on your master.
And while the Yakshiní was telling me this string of tales, the sun,
the friend of the kamaliní, went to rest. Then I and the ambassador
of the king of Sinhala went to sleep, both of us, after the evening
ceremonies, in a palace which the Yakshiní assigned to us.
In the morning we woke up and saw, my sovereign, that the army of
Vikramasakti, your vassal, had arrived. We reflected that that must
be a display of the Yakshiní's power, and quickly went wondering
into the presence of Vikramasakti. And he, as soon as he saw us,
showed us great honour, and asked after our welfare; and was on
the point of asking us what message the king of Sinhala had sent,
when the two heavenly maidens, whose history the Yakshiní had
related to us, and the young deer arrived there, escorted by the
army of the Yakshas. When king Vikramasakti saw this, he suspected
some glamour of malignant demons, and he said to me apprehensively
"What is the meaning of this?" Then I told him in due course the
commission of the king of Sinhala, and the circumstances connected
with the Yakshiní, the two maidens, and the deer. Moreover I informed
him of the hostile scheme of your majesty's enemies, which was to be
carried out by all the kings in combination, and which I had heard
of from the Yakshí. Then Vikramasakti honoured us two ambassadors,
and those two heavenly maidens; and being delighted made his army
ready for battle with the assistance of the other vassal kings.
And immediately, king, there was heard in the army the loud beating of
drums, and immediately there was seen the mighty host of hostile kings,
accompanied by the Mlechchhas. Then our army and the hostile army,
furious at beholding one another, closed with a rush, and the battle
began. Thereupon some of the Yakshas sent by the Yakshí entered our
soldiers, and so smote the army of the enemies, and others smote them
in open fight. [776] And there arose a terrible tempest of battle,
overspread with a cloud formed of the dust raised by the army, in
which sword-blades fell thick as rain, and the shouts of heroes
thundered. And the heads of our enemies flying up, as they were
cut off, and falling again, made it seem as if the Fortune of our
victory were playing at ball. And in a moment those kings that had
escaped the slaughter, their troops having been routed, submitted
and repaired for protection to the camp of your vassal.
Then, lord of earth, as you had conquered the four cardinal points
and the dvípas, and had destroyed all the Mlechchhas, that Yakshiní
appeared, accompanied by her husband, and said to king Vikramasakti
and to me, "You must tell your master that what I have done has been
done merely by way of service to him, and you must also request him,
as from me, to marry these two god-framed maidens, and to look upon
them with favour, and to cherish this deer also, for it is a present
from me." When the Yakshí had said this, she bestowed a heap of jewels,
and disappeared with her husband, and her attendants. The next day,
Madanalekhá, the daughter of the king of Sinhala, came with a great
retinue and much magnificence. And then Vikramasakti went to meet
her, and bending low, joyfully conducted her into his camp. And
on the second day Vikramasakti, having accomplished his object,
set out with the other kings from that place, in order to come here
and behold your Majesty's feet, bringing with him that princess and
the two heavenly maidens, and that deer composed of gold and jewels,
a marvel for the eyes of the three worlds. And now, sovereign, that
vassal prince has arrived near this city, and has sent us two on in
front to inform Your Highness. So let the king, out of regard for
the lord of Sinhala and the Yakshí, go forth to meet those maidens
and the deer, and also the subject kings.
When Anangadeva had said this to king Vikramáditya, though the king
recollected accomplishing that difficult rescue of the Yakshiní, he
did not consider it worth a straw, when he heard of the return she had
made for it; great-souled men, even when they have done much, think it
worth very little. And, being much pleased, he loaded [777] Anangadeva
for the second time, with elephants, horses, villages, and jewels,
and bestowed similar gifts on the ambassador of the king of Sinhala.
And after he had spent that day, the king set out from Ujjayiní, with
his warriors mounted on elephants and horses, to meet that daughter
of the king of Sinhala, and those two maidens created by Brahmá. And
the following speeches of the military officers, assigning elephants
and horses, were heard in the neighbourhood of the city when the
kings started, and within the city itself when the sovereign started;
"Jayavardhana must take the good elephant Anangagiri, and Ranabhata
the furious elephant Kálamegha, and Sinhaparákrama Sangrámasiddhi,
and the hero Vikramanidhi Ripurákshasa, and Jayaketu Pavanajava,
and Vallabhasakti Samudrakallola, and Báhu and Subáhu the two horses
Saravega and Garudavega, and Kírtivarman the black Konkan mare
Kuvalayamálá, and Samarasinha the white mare Gangálaharí of pure
Sindh breed."
When that king, the supreme sovereign of all the dvípas, had started
on his journey, the earth was covered with soldiers, the quarters
were full of nothing but the shouts that they raised, even the heaven
was obscured with the dust that was diffused by the trampling of his
advancing army, and all men's voices were telling of the wonderful
greatness of his might.
CHAPTER CXXII.
Then king Vikramáditya reached that victorious army commanded by that
Vikramasakti his general, and he entered it at the head of his forces,
accompanied by that general, who came to meet him, eager and with
loyal mind, together with the vassal kings.
The kings were thus announced by the warders in the tent of assembly,
"Your Majesty, here is Saktikumára the king of Gauda come to pay
you his respects, here is Jayadhvaja the king of Karnáta, here is
Vijayavarman of Láta, here is Sunandana of Kasmíra, here is Gopála
king of Sindh, here is Vindhyabala the Bhilla, and here is Nirmúka the
king of the Persians." And when they had been thus announced, the king
honoured them, and the feudal chiefs, and also the soldiers. And he
welcomed in appropriate fashion the daughter of the king of Sinhala,
and the heavenly maidens, and the golden deer, and Vikramasakti. And
the next day the successful monarch Vikramáditya set out with them
and his forces, and reached the city of Ujjayiní.
Then, the kings having been dismissed with marks of honour [778]
to their own territories, and the world-gladdening festival of the
spring season having arrived, when the creepers began, so to speak, to
adorn themselves with flowers for jewels, and the female bees to keep
up a concert with their humming, and the ranges of the wood to dance
embraced by the wind, and the cuckoos with melodious notes to utter
auspicious prayers, king Vikramáditya married on a fortunate day that
daughter of the king of Sinhala, and those two heavenly maidens. And
Sinhavarman, the eldest brother of the princess of Sinhala, who had
come with her, bestowed at the marriage-altar a great heap of jewels.
And at that moment the Yakshiní Madanamanjarí appeared, and gave
those two heavenly maidens countless heaps of jewels. The Yakshí said,
"How can I ever, king, recompense you for your benefits? But I have
done this unimportant service to testify my devotion to you. So you
must shew favour to these maidens, and to the deer." When the Yakshí
had said this, she departed honoured by the king.
Then the successful king Vikramáditya, having obtained those wives
and the earth with all its dvípas, ruled a realm void of opponents;
and he enjoyed himself roaming in all the garden grounds; during
the hot season living in the water of tanks and in artificial
fountain-chambers, during the rains in inner apartments charming on
account of the noise of cymbals that arose in them, during the autumn
on the tops of palaces, joyous with banquets under the rising moon,
during the winter in chambers where comfortable couches were spread,
and which were fragrant with black aloes, being ever surrounded by
his wives.
Story of Malayavatí the man-hating maiden.
Now this king, being such as I have described, had a painter named
Nagarasvámin, who enjoyed the revenues of a hundred villages, and
surpassed Visvakarman. That painter used every two or three days
to paint a picture of a girl, and give it as a present to the king,
taking care to exemplify different types of beauty.
Now, once on a time, it happened that that painter had, because a
feast was going on, forgotten to paint the required girl for the
king. And when the day for giving the present arrived, the painter
remembered and was bewildered, saying to himself, "Alas! what can
I give to the king?" And at that moment a traveller come from afar
suddenly approached him and placed a book in his hand, and went off
somewhere quickly. The painter out of curiosity opened the book,
and saw within a picture of a girl on canvas. Inasmuch as the girl
was of wonderful beauty, no sooner did he see her picture then he
took it and gave it to the king, rejoicing that, so far from having
no picture to present that day, he had obtained such an exceedingly
beautiful one. But the king, as soon as he saw it, was astonished,
and said to him, "My good fellow, this is not your painting, this is
the painting of Visvakarman: for how could a mere mortal be skilful
enough to paint such beauty?" When the painter heard this, he told
the king exactly what had taken place.
Then the king kept ever looking at the picture of the girl, and
never took his eyes off it, and one night he saw in a dream a girl
exactly like her, but in another dvípa. But as he eagerly rushed to
embrace her, who was eager to meet him, the night came to an end,
and he was woke up by the watchman. [779] When the king awoke, he was
so angry at the interruption of his delightful interview with that
maiden, that he banished that watchman from the city. And he said to
himself, "To think that a traveller should bring a book, and that in
it there should be the painted figure of a girl, and that I should
in a dream behold this same girl apparently alive! All this elaborate
dispensation of destiny makes me think that she must be a real maiden,
but I do not know in what dvípa she lives; how am I to obtain her?"
Full of such reflections, the king took pleasure in nothing, [780]
and burnt with the fever of love so that his attendants were full
of anxiety. And the warder Bhadráyudha asked the afflicted king in
private the cause of his grief, whereupon he spake as follows:
"Listen, I will tell you, my friend. So much at any rate you know,
that that painter gave me the picture of a girl. And I fell asleep
thinking on her, and I remember that in my dream I crossed the sea,
and reached and entered a very beautiful city. There I saw many
armed maidens in front of me, and they, as soon as they saw me,
raised a tumultuous cry of 'Kill, kill.' [781] Then a certain female
ascetic came and with great precipitation made me enter her house,
and briefly said to me this, 'My son, here is the man-hating princess
Malayavatí come this way, diverting herself as she pleases. And the
moment she sees a man, she makes these maidens of hers kill him:
so I brought you in here to save your life.' [782]
"When the female ascetic had said this, she immediately made me put
on female attire; and I submitted to that, knowing that it was not
lawful to slay those maidens. But, when the princess entered into
the house with her maidens, I looked at her, and lo! she was the
very lady that had been shewn me in a picture. And I said to myself,
'Fortunate am I in that, after first seeing this lady in a picture,
I now behold her again in flesh and blood, dear as my life.'
"In the meanwhile the princess, at the head of her maidens, said to
that female ascetic, 'We saw some male enter here.' The ascetic shewed
me, and answered, 'I know of no male; here is my sister's daughter,
who is with me as a guest.' Then the princess seeing me, although
I was disguised as a woman, forgot her dislike of men, and was at
once overcome by love. She remained for a moment, with every hair
on her body erect, motionless as if in thought, being, so to speak,
nailed to the spot at once with arrows by Love, who had spied his
opportunity. And in a moment the princess said to the ascetic, 'Then,
noble lady, why should not your sister's daughter be my guest also? Let
her come to my palace; I will send her back duly honoured.' Saying
this, she took me by the hand, and led me away to her palace. And I
remember, I discerned her intention, and consented, and went there,
and that sly old female ascetic gave me leave to depart.
"Then I remained there with that princess, who was diverting herself
with the amusement of marrying her maidens to one another, and so
forth. Her eyes were fixed on me, and she would not let me out of her
sight for an instant, and no occupation pleased her in which I did not
take part. Then those maidens, I remember, made the princess a bride,
and me her husband, and married us in sport. And when we had been
married, we entered at night the bridal chamber, and the princess
fearlessly threw her arms round my neck. And then I told her who I
was, and embraced her, and delighted at having attained her object,
she looked at me and then remained a long time with her eyes bashfully
fixed on the ground. And at that moment that villain of a watchman
woke me up. So, Bhadráyudha, the upshot of the whole matter is that
I can no longer live without that Malayavatí, whom I have seen in a
picture and in a dream."
When the king said this, the warder Bhadráyudha perceived that it
was a true dream, and he consoled the monarch, and said to him,
"If the king remembers it all exactly, let him draw that city on a
piece of canvas in order that some expedient may be devised in this
matter." The moment the king heard this suggestion of Bhadráyudha's,
he proceeded to draw that splendid city on a piece of canvas, and
all the scene that took place there. Then the warder at once took
the drawing, and had a new monastery [783] made, and hung it up
there on the wall. And he directed that in relief-houses attached to
the monastery, a quantity of food, with pairs of garments and gold,
should be given to bards coming from distant countries. And he gave
this order to the dwellers in the monastery, "If any one comes here,
who knows the city represented here in a picture, let me be informed
of it."
In the meanwhile the fierce elephant of the rainy season with
irresistible loud deep thunder-roar and long ketaka tusks came down
upon the forest of the heats, a forest the breezes of which were
scented with the perfume of the jasmine, in which travellers sat
down on the ground in the shade, and trumpet-flowers bloomed. At
that time the forest-fire of separation of that king Vikramáditya
began to burn more fiercely, fanned by the eastern breeze. [784]
Then the following cries were heard among the ladies of his court,
"Háralatá, bring ice! Chitrángí, sprinkle him with sandal-wood
juice! Patralekhá, make a bed cool with lotus-leaves! Kandarpasená,
fan him with plantain-leaves!" And in course of time the cloudy season
terrible with lightning passed away for that king, but the fever of
love burning [785] with the sorrow of separation did not pass away.
Then the autumn with her open lotus-face, and smile of unclosed
flowers, came, vocal with the cries of swans, [786] seeming to
utter this command, "Let travellers advance on their journey; let
pleasant tidings be brought about absent dear ones; happy may their
merry meetings be!" On a certain day in that season a bard, who had
come from a distance, of the name of Sanvarasiddhi, having heard
the fame of that monastery, built by the warder, entered it to get
food. After he had been fed, and presented with a pair of garments,
he saw that painting on the wall of the monastery. When the bard
had carefully scanned the city delineated there, he was astonished,
and said, "I wonder who can have drawn this city? For I alone have
seen it, I am certain, and no other; and here it is drawn by some
second person." When the inhabitants of the monastery heard that,
they told Bhadráyudha; then he came in person, and took that bard to
the king. The king said to Sanvarasiddhi, "Have you really seen that
city?" Then Sanvarasiddhi gave him the following answer.
"When I was wandering about the world, I crossed the sea that separates
the dvípas, and beheld that great city Malayapura. In that city there
dwells a king of the name of Malayasinha, and he has a matchless
daughter, named Malayavatí, who used to abhor males. But one night
she somehow or other saw in a dream a great hero in a convent. [787]
The moment she saw him, that evil spirit of detestation of the male
sex fled from her mind, as if terrified. Then she took him to her
palace, and in her dream married him, and entered with him the bridal
chamber. And at that moment the night came to an end, and an attendant
in her room woke her up. Then she banished that servant in her anger,
and thinking upon that dear one, whom she had seen in her dream,
seeing no way of escape owing to the blazing fire of separation,
utterly overpowered by love, she never rose from her couch except
to fall back upon it again with relaxed limbs. She was dumb, as if
possessed by a demon, as if stunned by a blow, [788] for when her
attendants questioned her, she gave them no answer.
"Then her father and mother came to hear of it, and questioned her;
and at last she was, with exceeding difficulty, persuaded to tell them
what happened to her in the dream, by the mouth of a confidential
female friend. Then her father comforted her, but she made a solemn
vow that, if she did not obtain her beloved in six months, she would
enter the fire. And already five months are past; who knows what will
become of her? This is the story that I heard about her in that city."
When Sanvarasiddhi had told this story, which tallied so well with
the king's own dream, the king was pleased at knowing the certainty
of the matter, and Bhadráyudha said to him, "The business is as
good as effected, for that king and his country own your paramount
supremacy. So let us go there before the sixth month has passed
away." When the warder had said this, king Vikramáditya made him inform
Sanvarasiddhi of all the circumstances connected with the matter, and
honoured him with a present of much wealth, and bade him shew him the
way, and then he seemed to bequeath his own burning heat to the rays
of the sun, his paleness to the clouds, and his thinness to the waters
of the rivers, [789] and having become free from sorrow, set out at
once, escorted by a small force, for the dwelling-place of his beloved.
In course of time, as he advanced, he crossed the sea, and reached
that city, and there he saw the people in front of it engaged in loud
lamentation, and when he questioned them, he received this answer,
"The princess Malayavatí here, as the period of six months is at
an end, and she has not obtained her beloved, is preparing to enter
the fire." Then the king went to the place where the pyre had been
made ready.
"When the people saw him, they made way for him, and then the princess
beheld that unexpected nectar-rain to her eyes. And she said to her
ladies-in-waiting, "Here is that beloved come who married me in a
dream, so tell my father quickly." They went and told this to her
father, and then that king, delivered from his grief, and filled
with joy, submissively approached the sovereign. At that moment the
bard Sanvarasiddhi, who knew his time, lifted up his arm, and chanted
aloud this strain, "Hail thou that with the flame of thy valour hast
consumed the forest of the army of demons and Mlechchhas! Hail king,
lord of the seven-sea-girt earth-bride! Hail thou that hast imposed
thy exceedingly heavy yoke on the bowed heads of all kings, conquered
by thee! Hail, Vishamasíla, hail Vikramáditya, ocean of valour!"
When the bard said this, king Malayasinha knew that it was Vikramáditya
himself that had come, and embraced his feet. [790] And after he
had welcomed him, he entered his palace with him, and his daughter
Malayavatí, thus delivered from death. And that king gave that daughter
of his to king Vikramáditya, thinking himself fortunate in having
obtained such a son-in-law. And king Vikramáditya, when he saw in his
arms, in flesh and blood, that Malayavatí, whom he had previously seen
in a picture and in a dream, considered it a wonderful fruit of the
wishing-tree of Siva's favour. Then Vikramáditya took with him his
wife Malayavatí, like an incarnation of bliss, and crossed the sea
resembling his long regretful [791] separation, and being submissively
waited upon at every step by kings, with various presents in their
hands, returned to his own city Ujjayiní. And on beholding there that
might of his, that satisfied [792] freely every kind of curiosity,
what people were not astonished, what people did not rejoice, what
people did not make high festival?
CHAPTER CXXIII.
Then, once on a time, in the course of conversation, one of
Vikramáditya's queens, called Kalingasená, said to her rival queens,
"What the king did for the sake of Malayavatí was not wonderful, for
this king Vishamasíla has ever been famous on the earth for such like
acts. Was not I swooped down on by him and married by force, after he
had seen a carved likeness of me and been overcome by love? On this
account the kárpatika [793] Devasena told me a story: that story I
will proceed to tell you; listen."
"I was very much vexed, and exclaimed 'How can the king be said to
have married me lawfully?' Then the kárpatika said to me, 'Do not
be angry, queen, for the king married you in eager haste out of a
violent passion for you; hear the whole story from the beginning.'"
Story of Kalingasená's marriage