The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
enemies on some future occasion." When the minister said this, the
king readily got down from his elephant, and mounted on a horse, and
left his army in company with him. And in course of time, the king,
in disguise, reached with his minister the city of Ujjayiní. There
he entered with his minister the house of a hetæra, named Kumudiká,
renowned for her wealth; and she, seeing him suddenly entering the
house, thought, "This is a distinguished hero that has come to my
house: and his majesty and the marks on his body shew him to be a
great king, so my desire is sure to be attained if I can make him my
instrument." Having thus reflected, Kumudiká rose up and welcomed him,
and entertained him hospitably, and immediately she said to the king,
who was wearied,--"I am fortunate, to-day the good deeds of my former
life have borne fruit, in that Your Majesty has hallowed my house
by coming to it in person. So by this favour Your Majesty has made
me your slave. The hundred elephants, and two myriads of horses,
and house full of jewels, which belong to me, are entirely at your
majesty's disposal." Having said this, she provided the king and his
minister with baths and other luxuries, all in magnificent style.
Then the wearied king lived in her palace, at his ease, with her,
who put her wealth at his disposal. He consumed her substance and
gave it away to petitioners, and she did not show any anger against
him on that account, but was rather pleased at it. Thereupon the king
was delighted, thinking that she was really attached to him, but his
minister Anantaguna, who was with him, said to him in secret: "Your
majesty, hetæræ are not to be depended upon, though, I must confess,
I cannot guess the reason why Kumudiká shews you love." When the
king heard this speech of his, he answered him: "Do not speak thus;
Kumudiká would even lay down her life for my sake. If you do not
believe it, I will give you a convincing proof." After the king had
said this to his minister, he adopted this artifice; he took little
to eat and little to drink, and so gradually attenuated his body,
and at last he made himself as dead, without movement, prostrate on
the ground. Then his attendants put him on a bier, and carried him
to the burning-ghat with lamentations, while Anantaguna affected a
grief which he did not feel. And Kumudiká, out of grief, came and
ascended the funeral pyre with him, though her relations tried to
prevent her. But before the fire was lighted, the king, perceiving
that Kumudiká had followed him, rose up with a yawn. And all his
attendants took him home with Kumudiká to his lodging, exclaiming,
"Fortunate is it that our king has been restored to life."
Then a feast was made, and the king recovered his normal condition,
and said in private to his minister,--"Did you observe the devotion of
Kumudiká?" Then the minister said,--"I do not believe even now. You may
be sure that there is some reason for her conduct, so we must wait to
get to the bottom of the matter. But let us reveal to her who we are,
in order that we may obtain a force granted by her, and another force
supplied by your ally, and so smite our enemies in battle." While he
was saying this, the spy, that had been secretly sent out, returned,
and when questioned, answered as follows; "Your enemies have overrun
the country, and queen Sasilekhá, having heard from the people a
false report of your majesty's death, has entered the fire." When
the king heard this, he was smitten by the thunderbolt of grief,
and lamented--"Alas! my queen! Alas, chaste lady!"
Then Kumudiká at last came to know the truth, and after consoling
the king Vikramasinha, she said to him; "Why did not the king give
me the order long ago? Now punish your enemies with my wealth and my
forces." When she said this, the king augmented the force by means
of her wealth, and repaired to a powerful king who was an ally of
his. And he marched with his forces and those forces of his own,
and after killing those five enemies in battle, he got possession
of their kingdoms into the bargain. Then he was delighted, and said
to Kumudiká who accompanied him; "I am pleased with you, so tell me
what I can do to gratify you." Then Kumudiká said--"If you are really
pleased, my lord, then extract from my heart this one thorn that has
long remained there. I have an affection for a Bráhman's son, of the
name of Srídhara, in Ujjayiní, whom the king has thrown into prison
for a very small fault, so deliver him out of the king's hand. Because
I saw by your royal marks, that your majesty was a glorious hero, and
destined to be successful, and able to effect this object of mine,
I waited on you with devoted attentions. Moreover, I ascended that
pyre out of despair of attaining my object, considering that life
was useless without that Bráhman's son. When the hetæra said this,
the king answered her; "I will accomplish it for you, fair one, do not
despair." After saying this, he called to mind his minister's speech,
and thought--"Anantaguna was right, when he said that hetæræ were not
to be depended upon. But I must gratify the wish of this miserable
creature." Thus resolved, he went with his troops to Ujjayiní, and
after getting Srídhara set at liberty, and giving him much wealth, he
made Kumudiká happy by uniting her with her beloved there. And after
returning to his city, he never disobeyed the advice of his minister,
and so in time he came to enjoy the whole earth.
"So you see, the hearts of hetæræ are fathomless and hard to
understand."
Then Gomukha stopped, after he had told this story. But then Tapantaka
said in the presence of Naraváhanadatta--"Prince, you must never
repose any confidence at all in women, for they are all light, even
those that, being married or unmarried, dwell in their father's house,
as well as those that are hetæræ by profession. I will tell you a
wonder which happened in this very place, hear it.
Story of the faithless wife who burnt herself with her husband's body.
There was a merchant in this very city named Balavarman, and he
had a wife named Chandrasrí, and she beheld from a window a handsome
merchant's son, of the name of Sílahara, and she sent her female friend
to invite him to her house, and there she used to have assignations
with him in secret. And while she was in the habit of meeting him
there every day, her attachment to him was discovered by all her
friends and relations. But her husband Balavarman was the only one
who did not discover that she was unchaste; very often men blinded
by affection do not discover the wickedness of their wives.
Then a burning fever seized Balavarman, and the merchant consequently
was soon reduced to a very low state. But, though he was in this
state, his wife went every day to her friend's house, to meet her
paramour. And the next day, while she was there, her husband died. And
on hearing of it she returned, quickly taking leave of her lover. And
out of grief for her husband, she ascended the pyre with his body,
being firmly resolved, though her attendants, who knew her character,
tried to dissuade her. [13]
"Thus is the way of a woman's heart truly hard to understand. They
fall in love with strange men, and die when separated from their
husbands." When Tapantaka said this, Harisikha said in his turn,
"Have you not heard what happened in this way to Devadása?"
Story of the faithless wife who had her husband murdered.
Of old time there lived in a village a householder, named Devadása, and
he had a wife named with good cause Duhsílá. [14] And the neighbours
knew that she was in love with another man. Now, once on a time,
Devadása went to the king's court on some business. And his wife, who
wished to have him murdered, took advantage of the occasion to bring
her paramour, whom she concealed on the roof of the house. And in the
dead of night she had her husband Devadása killed by that paramour,
when he was asleep. And she dismissed her paramour, and remained quiet
until the morning, when she went out, and exclaimed, "My husband has
been killed by robbers." Then his relations came there, and after
they had seen his body, they said, "If he was killed by thieves,
why did they not carry off anything?" After they had said this, they
asked her young son, who was there, "Who killed your father?" Then he
said plainly; "A man had gone up on the roof here in the day, he came
down in the night, and killed my father before my eyes; but first my
mother took me and rose up from my father's side." When the boy said
this, the dead man's relations knew that Devadása had been killed by
his wife's paramour, and they searched him out, and put him to death
then and there, and they adopted that boy and banished Duhsílá.
"So you see, a woman, whose heart is fixed on another man, infallibly
kills like the snake." When Harisikha said this, Gomukha said
again--"Why should we tell any out-of-the-way story? Listen to the
ridiculous fate that befell Vajrasára here, the servant of the king
of Vatsa."
Story of Vajrasára whose wife cut off his nose and ears.
He, being brave and handsome, had a beautiful wife that came from
Málava, whom he loved more than his own body. Once on a time his wife's
father, longing to see her, came in person, accompanied by his son,
from Málava, to invite him and her. Then Vajrasára entertained him,
and informed the king, and went, as he had been invited to do, to
Málava with his wife and his father-in-law. And after he had rested a
month only in his father-in-law's house, he came back here to attend
upon the king, but that wife of his remained there. Then, after some
days had passed, suddenly a friend of the name of Krodhana came to him,
and said:--"Why have you ruined your family by leaving your wife in her
father's house? For the abandoned woman has there formed a connexion
with another man. This was told me to-day by a trustworthy person
who came from that place. Do not suppose that it is untrue; punish
her, and marry another." When Krodhana had said this, he went away,
and Vajrasára stood bewildered for a moment, and then reflected--"I
suspect this may be true; otherwise, why did she not come back,
though I sent a man to summon her? So I will go myself to bring her,
and see what the state of the case is."
Having formed this resolution, he went to Málava, and after taking
leave of his father-in-law and his mother-in-law, he set out with
his wife. And after he had gone a long distance, he eluded his
followers by a trick, and going by the wrong path, entered with his
wife a dense wood. He sat down in the middle of it, and said to her,
out of hearing of any one: "I have heard from a trustworthy friend,
that you are in love with another, and when I, remaining at home,
sent for you, you did not come; so tell me the truth; if you do not,
I will punish you." When she heard this, she said: "If this is your
intention, why do you ask me? Do what you like." When Vajrasára heard
this contemptuous speech of hers, he was angry and tied her up, and
began to beat her with creepers. But while he was stripping off her
clothes, he felt his passion renewed, and asked her to forgive him,
whereupon she said; "I will, if I may tie you up and beat you with
creepers, in the same way as you tied me up and beat me, but not
otherwise." Vajrasára, whose heart was made like stubble by love,
consented, for he was blinded by passion. Then she bound him firmly,
hand and foot, to a tree, and, when he was bound, she cut off his ears
and nose with his own sword, and the wicked woman took his sword and
clothes, and disguising herself as a man, departed whither she would.
But Vajrasára, with his nose and ears cut off, remained there,
depressed by great loss of blood, and loss of self-respect. Then a