The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
"I went, O king, on that occasion fasting and silent from this
place, so when the journey came to an end, being very despondent,
and emaciated with my severe austerities, worn out I fell senseless
on the ground. Then, I remember, a man with a spear in his hand came
and said to me in distinct accents, 'Rise up, my son, everything
shall turn out favourably for thee.' By that speech I was, as it were,
immediately bedewed with a shower of nectar, and I woke up, and seemed
free from hunger and thirst and in good ease. Then I approached the
neighbourhood of the god's temple, overpowered with the weight of
my devotion, and after bathing I entered the inner shrine of the god
in a state of agitated suspense. Then that Lord Skanda [98] gave me
a sight of himself within, and thereupon Sarasvatí in visible shape
entered my mouth. So that holy god, manifested before me, recited
the sútra beginning 'the traditional doctrine of letters.' On hearing
that, I, with the levity which is so natural to mankind, guessed the
next sútra and uttered it myself. Then that god said to me, 'if thou
hadst not uttered it thyself, this grammatical treatise would have
supplanted that of Pánini. As it is, on account of its conciseness,
it shall be called Kátantra, and Kálápaka, from the tail (kalápa)
of the peacock on which I ride.' Having said this, that god himself
in visible form revealed to me that new and short grammar, [99] and
then added this besides; 'That king of thine in a former birth was
himself a holy sage, a pupil of the hermit Bharadvája, named Krishna,
great in austerity: and he, having beheld a hermit's daughter who
loved him in return, suddenly felt the smart of the wound which the
shaft of the flowery-arrowed god inflicts. So, having been cursed
by the hermits, he has now become incarnate here, and that hermit's
daughter has become incarnate as his queen.
So this king Sátaváhana, being an incarnation of a holy sage, [100]
when he beholds thee, will attain a knowledge of all the sciences
according to thy wish. For the highest matters are easily acquired by
great-souled ones, having been learnt in a former birth, the real truth
of them being recalled by their powerful memories.' [101] When the
god had said this, he disappeared, and I went out, and there grains
of rice were presented me by the god's servants. Then I proceeded to
return, O king, and wonderful to say, though I consumed those grains
on my journey day after day, they remained as numerous as ever." When
he had related his adventure, Sarvavarman ceased speaking, and king
Sátaváhana in cheerful mood rose up and went to bathe.
Then I, being excluded from business by my vow of silence, took leave,
with a low bow only, of that king who was very averse to part with me,
and went out of that town, accompanied by only two disciples, and,
with my mind bent on the performance of austerities, came to visit the
shrine of the dweller in the Vindhya hills, and having been directed
by the goddess in a dream to visit thee, I entered for that purpose
this terrible Vindhya forest. A hint given by a Pulinda enabled me
to find a caravan, and so somehow or other, by the special favour of
destiny, I managed to arrive here, and beheld this host of Pisáchas,
and by hearing from a distance their conversation with one another,
I have contrived to learn this Paisácha language, which has enabled
me to break my vow of silence; I then made use of it to ask after
you, and, hearing that you had gone to Ujjayiní, I waited here until
your return; on beholding you I welcomed you in the fourth language,
(the speech of the Pisáchas), and then I called to mind my origin;
this is the story of my adventures in this birth.
When Gunádhya had said this, Kánabhúti said to him,--"hear, how your
arrival was made known to me last night. I have a friend, a Rákshasa
of the name of Bhútivarman, who possesses heavenly insight; and I went
to a garden in Ujjayiní, where he resides. On my asking him when my
own curse would come to an end, he said, we have no power in the day,
wait, and I will tell you at night. I consented and when night came
on, I asked him earnestly the reason why goblins [102] delighted in
disporting themselves then, as they were doing. Then Bhútivarman said
to me, 'Listen, I will relate what I heard Siva say in a conversation
with Brahmá. Rákshasas, Yakshas, and Pisáchas have no power in the day,
being dazed with the brightness of the sun, therefore they delight in
the night. And where the gods are not worshipped, and the Bráhmans,
in due form, and where men eat contrary to the holy law, there also
they have power. Where there is a man who abstains from flesh, or a
virtuous woman, there they do not go. They never attack chaste men,
heroes, and men awake.' [103] When he said this on that occasion
Bhútivarman continued, 'Go, for Gunádhya has arrived, the destined
means of thy release from the curse.' So hearing this, I have come,
and I have seen thee, my lord; now I will relate to thee that tale
which Pushpadanta told; but I feel curiosity on one point; tell me
why he was called Pushpadanta and thou Mályaván."
Story of Pushpadanta.
Hearing this question from Kánabhúti, Gunádhya said to him. On the bank
of the Ganges there is a district granted to Bráhmans by royal charter,
named Bahusuvarnaka, and there lived there a very learned Bráhman
named Govindadatta, and he had a wife Agnidattá who was devoted to her
husband. In course of time that Bráhman had five sons by her. And they,
being handsome but stupid, grew up insolent fellows. Then a guest came
to the house of Govindadatta, a Bráhman Vaisvánara by name, like a
second god of fire. [104] As Govindadatta was away from home when he
arrived, he came and saluted his sons, and they only responded to his
salute with a laugh; then that Bráhman in a rage prepared to depart
from his house. While he was in this state of wrath Govindadatta came,
and asked the cause, and did his best to appease him, but the excellent
Bráhman nevertheless spoke as follows--"Your sons have become outcasts,
as being blockheads, and you have lost caste by associating with them,
therefore I will not eat in your house; if I did so, I should not be
able to purify myself by any expiatory ceremony." Then Govindadatta
said to him with an oath, "I will never even touch these wicked sons
of mine." His hospitable wife also came and said the same to her
guest; then Vaisvánara was with difficulty induced to accept their
hospitality. One of Govindadatta's sons, named Devadatta, when he saw
that, was grieved at his father's sternness, and thinking a life of
no value which was thus branded by his parents, went in a state of
despondency to the hermitage of Badariká to perform penance; there
he first ate leaves, and afterwards he fed only on smoke, persevering
in a long course of austerities in order to propitiate the husband of
Umá [105]. So Sambhu, won over by his severe austerities, manifested
himself to him, and he craved a boon from the god, that he might
ever attend upon him. Sambhu thus commanded him--"Acquire learning,
and enjoy pleasures on the earth, and after that thou shalt attain
all thy desire." Then he, eager for learning, went to the city of
Pátaliputra, and according to custom waited on an instructor named
Vedakumbha. When he was there, the wife of his preceptor distracted
by passion, which had arisen in her heart, made violent love to him;
alas! the fancies of women are ever inconstant! Accordingly Devadatta
left that place, as his studies had been thus interfered with by the
god of love, and went to Pratishthána with unwearied zeal. There he
repaired to an old preceptor named Mantrasvámin, with an old wife,
and acquired a perfect knowledge of the sciences. And after he had
acquired learning, the daughter of the king Susarman, Srí by name,
cast eyes upon the handsome youth, as the goddess Srí upon Vishnu. He
also beheld that maiden at a window, looking like the presiding goddess
of the moon, roaming through the air in a magic chariot. Those two
were, as it were, fastened together by that look which was the chain
of love, and were unable to separate. The king's daughter made him
a sign to come near with one finger, looking like Love's command in
fleshly form. Then he came near her, and she came out of the women's
apartments, and took with her teeth a flower and threw it down to
him. He, not understanding this mysterious sign made by the princess,
puzzled as to what he ought to do, went home to his preceptor. There he
rolled on the ground unable to utter a word, being consumed within with
burning pain, like one dumb and distracted; his wise preceptor guessing
what was the matter by these love-symptoms, artfully questioned
him, and at last he was with difficulty persuaded to tell the whole
story. Then the clever preceptor guessed the riddle, and said to him,
[106] "By letting drop a flower with her tooth she made a sign to you,
that you were to go to this temple rich in flowers called Pushpadanta,
and wait there: so you had better go now." When he heard this and knew
the meaning of the sign, the youth forgot his grief. Then he went into
that temple and remained there. The princess on her part also went
there, giving as an excuse that it was the eighth day of the month,
and then entered the inner shrine in order to present herself alone
before the god; then she touched her lover who was behind the panel
of the door, and he suddenly springing up threw his arms round her
neck. She exclaimed, "this is strange; how did you guess the meaning
of that sign of mine?" He replied, "it was my preceptor that found
it out, not I." Then the princess flew into a passion and said, "Let
me go, you are a dolt," and immediately rushed out of the temple,
fearing that her secret would be discovered. Devadatta on his part
went away, and thinking in solitude on his beloved, who was no sooner
seen than lost to his eyes, was in such a state that the taper of
his life was well nigh melted away in the fire of bereavement. Siva,
who had been before propitiated by him, commanded an attendant of
his, of the name of Panchasikha, to procure for him the desire of
his heart. That excellent Gana thereupon came, and consoled him,
and caused him to assume the dress of a woman, and he himself wore
the semblance of an aged Bráhman. Then that worthy Gana went with him
to king Susarman the father of that bright-eyed one, and said to him;
"My son has been sent away somewhere, I go to seek him: accordingly
I deposit with thee this daughter-in-law of mine, keep her safely,
O king." Hearing that, king Susarman afraid of a Bráhman's curse,
took the young man and placed him in his daughter's guarded seraglio,
supposing him to be a woman. Then after the departure of Panchasikha,
the Bráhman dwelt in woman's clothes in the seraglio of his beloved,
and became her trusted confidante. Once on a time the princess was
full of regretful longing at night, so he discovered himself to her
and secretly married her by the Gándharva form of marriage. And when
she became pregnant, that excellent Gana came on his thinking of him
only, and carried him away at night without its being perceived. Then
he quickly rent off from the young man his woman's dress, and in the
morning Panchasikha resumed the semblance of a Bráhman; and going
with the young man to the king Susarman he said; "O king, I have
this day found my son: so give me back my daughter-in-law." Then
the king, supposing that she had fled somewhere at night, alarmed
at the prospect of being cursed by the Bráhman, said this to his
ministers. "This is no Bráhman, this is some god come to deceive me,
for such things often happen in this world.
Story of king Sivi.
So in former times there was a king named Sivi, self-denying,