The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
in fault in this matter. What can we say against the porter who does
not know his letters? Poverty makes men steal, and who ever gave up
what he had found? And the merchant who bought it from him cannot be
blamed." The king when he heard this decision of his prime minister's,
approved it. And he took back his jewel from the merchant, paying
him the five thousand dínárs, which had been spent by the porter,
and he set the porter at liberty, after taking back his bracelet,
and he, having consumed his five thousand, went free from anxiety
to his own house. And the king, though in the bottom of his heart he
hated that merchant Ratnadatta, as being a man who ruined those that
reposed confidence in him, honoured him for his service. When they
had all departed, Vasantaka came before the king, and said, "Ah! when
men are cursed by destiny, even the wealth they obtain departs, for
the incident of the inexhaustible pitcher has happened to this porter."
Story of the inexhaustible pitcher. [3]
For you must know that there lived long ago, in the city of
Pátaliputra, a man of the name of Subhadatta, and he every day carried
in a load of wood from the forest, and sold it, and so maintained
his household. Now one day he went to a distant forest, and, as
it happened, he saw there four Yakshas with heavenly ornaments
and dresses. The Yakshas, seeing he was terrified, kindly asked
him of his circumstances, and finding out that he was poor, they
conceived pity for him, and said--"Remain here as a servant in our
house, we will support your family for you without trouble on your
part." When Subhadatta heard that, he agreed, and remained with them,
and he supplied them with requisites for bathing and performed other
menial offices for them. When the time for eating came, those Yakshas
said to him--"Give us food from this inexhaustible pitcher." But he
hesitated, seeing that it was empty, and then the Yakshas again said
to him, smiling--"Subhadatta, do you not understand? Put your hand
in the pitcher, and you will obtain whatever you want, for this is
a pitcher that supplies whatever is required." When he heard that,
he put his hand in the pitcher, and immediately he beheld all the
food and drink that could be required. And Subhadatta out of that
store supplied them and ate himself.
Thus waiting on the Yakshas every day with devotion and awe, Subhadatta
remained in their presence anxious about his family. But his sorrowing
family was comforted by them in a dream, and this kindness on their
part made him happy. At the termination of one month the Yakshas said
to him, "We are pleased with this devotion of yours, we will grant you
a boon, say what it shall be." When he heard that, he said to them,
"Then give me this inexhaustible pitcher." Then the Yakshas said to
him, "You will not be able to keep it, for, if broken, it departs at
once, so choose some other boon." Though they warned him in these
words, Subhadatta would not choose any other boon, so they gave
him that inexhaustible pitcher. Then Subhadatta bowed before them
delighted, and, taking that pitcher, quickly returned to his house,
to the joy of his relations. Then he took out of that pitcher food and
drink, and in order to conceal the secret, he placed them in other
vessels, and consumed them with his relations. And as he gave up
carrying burdens, and enjoyed all kinds of delights, his kinsmen one
day said to him, when he was drunk; "How did you manage to acquire
the means of all this enjoyment?" He was too much puffed up with
pride to tell them plainly, but taking the wish-granting pitcher
on his shoulder, he began to dance. [4] And as he was dancing, the
inexhaustible pitcher slipped from his shoulder, as his feet tripped
with over-abundance of intoxication, and falling on the ground, was
broken in pieces. And immediately it was mended again, and reverted
to its original possessors, but Subhadatta was reduced to his former
condition, and filled with despondency.
"So you see that these unfortunate persons, whose intellects are
destroyed with the vice of drinking, and other vices, and with
infatuation, cannot keep wealth, even when they have obtained
it." When the king of Vatsa had heard this amusing story of the
inexhaustible pitcher, he rose up, and bathed, and set about the
other duties of the day. And Naraváhanadatta also bathed, and took
food with his father, and at the end of the day went with his friends
to his own house. There he went to bed at night, but could not sleep,
and Marubhúti said to him in the hearing of the ministers: "I know,
it is love of a slave-girl that prevents your summoning your wives,
and you have not summoned the slave-girl, so you cannot sleep. But
why in spite of your better knowledge do you still fall in love with
hetæræ? For they have no goodness of character; in proof that they
have not, hear the following tale:"
Story of the merchant's son, the hetæra, and the wonderful ape Ála.
There is in this country a great and opulent city named Chitrakúta. In
it there lived a merchant named Ratnavarman, a prince among the
wealthy. He had one son born to him by propitiating Siva, and he
gave that son the name of Ísvaravarman. After he had studied the
sciences, his father the rich merchant, who had no other son but
him, seeing that he was on the verge of manhood, said to himself:
"Providence has created in this world that fair and frail type
of woman, the hetæra, to steal the wealth and life of rich young
men blinded with the intoxication of youth. So I will entrust my
son to some kuttiní, in order that he may learn the tricks of the
hetæræ and not be deceived by them." Having thus reflected, he
went with his son Ísvaravarman to the house of a certain kuttiní,
whose name was Yamajihvá. There he saw that kuttiní, with massive
jaw, and long teeth, and snub nose, instructing her daughter in the
following words--"Every one is valued on account of wealth, a hetæra
especially; and hetæræ who fall in love do not obtain wealth, therefore
a hetæra should abandon passion. For rosy red, love's proper hue,
is the harbinger of eclipse to the hetæra as to the evening twilight;
a properly trained hetæra should exhibit love without sincerity, like
a well-trained actress. With that she should gain a man's affections,
then she should extract from him all his wealth, when he is ruined,
she should finally abandon him, but if he should recover his wealth,
she should take him back into favour. A hetæra, like a hermit, is
the same towards a young man, a child, an old man, a handsome man,
and a deformed man, and so she always attains the principal object of
existence." [5] While the kuttiní was delivering this lesson to her
daughter, Ratnavarman approached her, and after she had welcomed him,
he took a seat by her side. And he said to her--"Reverend mother, teach
my son this skill of the hetæra, in order that he may become clever in
it. And I will give you a thousand dínárs by way of recompense." When
the kuttiní heard his desire, she consented, and he paid the dínárs,
and made over his son Ísvaravarman to her, and then returned home.
Then Ísvaravarman, in the course of one year, learned in the house
of Yamajihvá all the graceful accomplishments, and then returned to
his father's house. And after he had attained sixteen years, he said
to his father--"Wealth gives us religion and love, wealth gives us
consideration and renown." When his father heard this, he exclaimed in
approval, "It is even so," and being delighted, he gave him five crores
by way of capital. The son took it, and set out on an auspicious day
with a caravan, with the object of journeying to Svarnadvípa. And on
the way he reached a town named Kánchanapura, and there he encamped
in a garden, at a short distance outside the town. And after bathing
and anointing himself, the young man entered the town, and went to a
temple to see a spectacle. And there he saw a dancing-girl, of the name
of Sundarí, dancing, like a wave of the sea of beauty [6] tossed up
by the wind of youth. And the moment he saw her, he became so devoted
to her, that the instructions of the kuttiní fled far from him, as if
in anger. At the end of the dance, he sent a friend to solicit her,
and she bowed and said--"I am highly favoured." And Ísvaravarman left
vigilant guards in his camp, to watch over his treasure, and went
himself to the house of that Sundarí. And when he came, her mother,
named Makarakatí, honoured him with the various rites of hospitality
which became the occasion. And at nightfall she introduced him into
a chamber with a canopy of flashing jewels and a bed. There he passed
the night with Sundarí, [7] whose name expressed her nature, and who
was skilled in all movements of the dance. And the next day he could
not bring himself to part from her, as she shewed great affection
for him, and never left his side. And the young merchant gave her
twenty-five lakhs of gold and jewels in those two days. But Sundarí,
with a false affectation of disinterestedness, refused to take them,
saying--"I have obtained much wealth, but I never found a man like
you; since I have obtained you, what should I do with wealth?" But her
mother Makarakatí, whose only child she was, said to her, "Henceforth,
whatever wealth belongs to us, is as much his as his own property,
so take it, my daughter, as a contribution to our common stock,
what harm is there in that?" When Sundarí's mother said this to her,
she took it with affected unwillingness, and the foolish Ísvaravarman
thought she was really in love with him. While the merchant remained
in her house, charmed by her beauty, her dancing, and singing, two
months passed, and in course of time he bestowed upon her two crores.
Then his friend, named Arthadatta, of his own accord came to him
and said--"Friend, has all that training of yours, though painfully
acquired from the kuttiní, proved useless, now that the occasion has
presented itself, as skill in the use of weapons does to a coward, in
that you believe that there is sincerity in this love of a hetæra? Is
water ever really found in desert-mirages? So let us go before all
your wealth is consumed, for, if your father were to hear of it, he
would be very angry." When his friend said this to him, the merchant's
son said, "It is true that no reliance can be placed upon hetæræ as
a rule, but Sundarí is not like the rest of her class, for, if she
were to lose sight of me for a moment, my friend, she would die. So
do you break it to her, if we must in any case go."
When he said this to Arthadatta, Arthadatta said to Sundarí, in the
presence of Ísvaravarman and her mother Makarakatí, "You entertain
extraordinary affection for Ísvaravarman, but he must certainly
go on a trading expedition to Svarnadvípa immediately. There he
will obtain so much wealth, that he will come and live with you
in happiness all his life, consent to it, my friend." When Sundarí
heard this, she gazed on the face of Ísvaravarman with tears in her
eyes and assumed despondency, and said to Arthadatta, "What am I to
say? you gentlemen know best. Who can rely on any one before seeing
the end? Never mind! Let fate deal with me as it will!" When she said
this, her mother said to her, "Do not be grieved, control yourself;
your lover will certainly return when he has made his fortune; he will
not abandon you." In these words her mother consoled her, but made
an agreement with her, and had a net secretly prepared in a well,
that lay in the road they must take. And then Ísvaravarman's mind
was in a state of tremulous agitation about parting, and Sundarí,
as if out of grief, took but little food and drink. And she shewed
no inclination for singing, music, or dancing, but she was consoled
by Ísvaravarman with various affectionate attentions.