The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
his wife, and asked that great merchant Hiranyagupta to lend him some
money. And the merchant, when he saw her, immediately fell in love
with her, and she also with him, the moment that she beheld him. And
the merchant said politely to Sudarsana--"To-morrow I will give you
gold, but dine here to-day." When Sudarsana heard this, beholding the
altered bearing of those two, he said--"I did not come here to-day to
dine." Then the great merchant said--"If this be the case, at any rate
let your wife dine here, my friend, for this is the first time that
she has visited my house." When Sudarsana was thus addressed by him,
he remained silent in spite of his cunning, and that merchant went
into his house with Anangaprabhá. There he indulged in drinking and
other pastimes with that fair one, unexpectedly thrown in his way,
who was merry with all the wantonness of wine. But Sudarsana, who
was standing outside, waiting for her to come out, had the following
message brought to him by the merchant's servants, in accordance
with their master's orders: "Your wife has dined and gone home; you
must have failed to see her going out. So what are you doing here so
long? Go home." He answered--"She is within the house, she has not
come out, and I will not depart." Thereupon the merchant's servants
drove him away from the house with kicks. Then Sudarsana went off,
and sorrowfully reflected with himself: "What! has this merchant,
though my friend, robbed me of my wife? Or rather, in this very birth
the fruit of my sin has in such a form fallen to my lot. For what I
did to one, another has done to me. Why should I then be angry with
another, when my own deeds merit anger? So I will sever the chain of
works, so that I may not be again humiliated." Thus reflecting, the
gambler abandoned his anger, and going to the hermitage of Badariká,
[724] he proceeded to perform such austerities as would cut the bonds
of mundane existence.
And Anangaprabhá, having obtained that exceedingly handsome merchant
for a dear husband, was as pleased as a bee that has lighted on a
flower. And in course of time she attained undisputed control over
the wealth, as well as over the heart of that opulent merchant,
who was deeply in love with her. But the king Vírabáhu, though he
heard of the matchless beauty residing there, did not carry her off,
but remained strictly within the limits of virtue. And in course of
time, the wealth of the merchant began to diminish, on account of
the expenditure of Anangaprabhá; for, in a house presided over by
an unchaste woman, Fortune pines as well as virtuous women. Then the
merchant Hiranyagupta got together wares, and went off to an island
named Suvarnabhúmi to trade, and he took that Anangaprabhá with him,
out of fear of being separated from her, and journeying on his way,
he at last reached the city of Ságarapura. There he fell in with
a chief of fishermen, a native of that place, Ságaravíra by name,
whom he found in that city near the sea. He went with that sea-faring
man to the shore of the sea, and with his beloved embarked on a ship
which he provided. And after the merchant had travelled in anxiety
for some days over the sea, in that ship, accompanied by Ságaravíra,
one day a terrible black cloud of doom appeared, with flashing eyes
of lightning, filling them with fear of destruction. Then that ship,
smitten by a mighty wind, with a violent shower of rain, began to
sink in the waves. That merchant Hiranyagupta, when the crew raised
a cry of lamentation, and the ship began to break up like his own
hopes, fastened his cloak round his loins, and looking at the face of
Anangaprabhá, exclaimed "Ah! my beloved, where art thou," and threw
himself into the sea. And he oared himself along with his arms, and,
as luck would have it, he reached a merchant-ship, and he caught hold
of it, and climbed up into it.
But that Ságaravíra tied together some planks with a cord, and quickly
placed Anangaprabhá upon them. And he himself climbed up upon them,
and comforted that terrified woman, and went paddling along in the sea,
throwing aside the water with his arms. And as soon as the ship had
been broken to pieces, the clouds disappeared from the heaven, and the
sea was calm, like a good man whose wrath is appeased. But the merchant
Hiranyagupta, after climbing up into the ship, which was impelled by
the wind, as fate would have it, reached in five days the shore of
the sea. Then he went on shore, grieved at the loss of his beloved,
but he reflected that the dispensations of Destiny were irremediable;
and he went slowly home to his own city, and being of resolute soul,
he recovered his self-command, and again acquired wealth, and lived
in great comfort.
But Anangaprabhá, seated on the plank, was piloted to the shore
of the sea in one day by Ságaravíra. And there that chief of the
fishermen, consoling her, took her to his own palace in the city of
Ságarapura. There Anangaprabhá, reflecting that that chief of the
fishermen was a hero who had saved her life, and was equal to a king
in opulence, and in the prime of youth and good looks, and obedient
to her orders, made him her husband: a woman who has lost her virtue
does not distinguish between high and low. Then she dwelt with that
chief of fishermen, enjoying in his house his wealth that he put at
her disposal.
One day she saw from the roof of the palace a handsome Kshatriya youth,
named Vijayavarman, going along the high street of the town. Falling
in love with his good looks, she went up to him, and said--"Receive
me, who am in love with you, for my mind has been fascinated by
the sight of you." And he gladly welcomed that fairest woman of the
three worlds, who had fallen to him, as it were, from the sky, and
took her home to his house. But Ságaravíra, finding that his beloved
had gone somewhere or other, abandoned all, and went to the river
Ganges, intending to leave the body by means of ascetic practices;
and no wonder that his grief was great, for how could a man of servile
caste ever have expected to obtain such a Vidyádharí? But Anangaprabhá
lived at ease in that very town with Vijayavarman, free from restraint.
Then, one day the king of that place, named Ságaravarman, mounted a
female elephant and went out to roam round his city. And while the king
was looking at that well-built city named after him, he came along
the street where the house of Vijayavarman was. And Anangaprabhá,
finding out that the king was coming that way, went up to the top of
the house, out of curiosity to behold him. And, the moment she saw the
king, she fell so desperately in love with him, that she insolently
exclaimed to the elephant-driver--"Mahout, I never in my life have
ridden on an elephant, so give me a ride on yours, and let me see how
pleasant it is." When the elephant-driver heard this, he looked at
the face of the king, and in the meanwhile the king beheld her, like
the splendour of the moon fallen from heaven. And the king, drinking
her in with insatiate eye like a partridge, having conceived the hope
of gaining her, said to his elephant-driver--"Take the elephant near
and comply with her wish, and without delay seat this moon-faced dame
on the elephant." When the king said this, the elephant-driver at
once brought that elephant close under the house. When Anangaprabhá
saw that the elephant had come near, she immediately flung herself
into the lap of the king Ságaravarman. How came it that, though at
first she was averse to a husband, she now showed such an insatiable
appetite for husbands? Surely her father's curse made her exhibit a
great change of character. And she clasped the king round the neck,
as if afraid of falling, and he, when his limbs were irrigated with
the nectar of her touch, was much delighted. And the king quickly
carried off to his own palace her, who had surrendered herself by
an artifice, being desirous of being kissed. There he made that
Vidyádharí enter his harem, and after she had told him her story, he
made her his principal wife. And then that young Kshatriya, finding
out that she had been carried off by the king, came and attacked the
king's servants outside the palace, and there he left his corpse,
not turning his back in fight, for brave men do not submit to insult
on account of a woman. And it seemed as if he was carried off to the
abode of the gods by the nymphs of heaven, saying--"What have you to
do with this contemptible woman? Come to Nandana and court us."
As for that Anangaprabhá, when she had come into the possession of
the king Ságaravarman, she roamed no more, but remained faithful to
him, as rivers are at rest in the bosom of the sea. And owing to the
force of destiny, she thought herself fortunate in having obtained
that husband, and he thought that his life was complete by his having
obtained her for a wife.
And in some days Anangaprabhá, the queen of that king Ságaravarman,
became pregnant, and in due time gave birth to a son. And the king
made a great feast on account of the birth of a noble son, and
gave the boy the name of Samudravarman. And when that son attained
his full stature, and became a young man distinguished for might,
the king appointed him crown-prince. Then he brought to his court
Kamalavatí the daughter of a certain king named Samaravarman, to be
married to him. And when that son Samudravarman was married, the king,
being impressed by his virtues, gave him his own kingdom. That brave
son Samudravarman, being thoroughly acquainted with the duties of
Kshatriyas, when he had obtained the kingdom, said to his father,
bowing before him: "Father, give me leave to depart; I am setting
out to conquer the regions. A lord of earth, that is not intent on
conquest, is to be blamed as much as the effeminate husband of a
woman. And in this world, only that fortune of kings is righteous and
glorious, which is acquired by one's own strength after conquering the
kingdoms. What is the use, father, of the sovereignty of those kings,
who hold it merely for the sake of oppressing the poor? They devour
their own subjects, ravenous like cats." [725] When he had said this,
his father Ságaravarman replied, "Your rule, my boy, is young; so
for the present secure that; no demerit or disgrace attaches to one
who rules his subjects justly. And war is not meet for kings without
considering their power; though, you my child, are a hero, and your
army is numerous, still you ought not to rely upon the fortune of
victory, which is fickle in fight." Though his father used these
and similar arguments with him, the brave Samudravarman at last,
with great difficulty, induced him to consent, and marched out to
conquer the regions. And having conquered the regions in due course,
and reduced the kings under his sway, he returned to his own city
in possession of elephants, horses, gold, and other tributes. And
there he humbly honoured the feet of his delighted parents with great
jewels produced in various regions. And the glorious prince gave, by
their orders, to the Bráhmans great gifts of elephants, horses, gold
and jewels. Then he showered gold in such profusion upon suppliants
and servants, that the only thing in the country devoid of wealth
was the word poor, which had become without meaning. [726] The king
Ságaravarman, dwelling with Anangaprabhá, when he beheld the glory
of his son, considered that his objects in life had been accomplished.
And the king, after spending those days in feasting, said to his son
Samudravarman in the presence of the ministers--"I have accomplished,
my son, what I had to accomplish in this birth; I have enjoyed the
pleasures of rule, I have not experienced defeat from my enemies, and
I have seen you in possession of sovereignty, what else does there
remain for me to obtain? So I will retire to a holy bathing-place,