The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
certain benevolent physician, who was wandering through the wood in
search of healing herbs, saw him, and out of compassion unbound him,
and brought him home to his house. And Vajrasára, having been brought
round by him, slowly returned to his own house, but he did not find
that wicked wife, though he sought for her. And he described the
whole occurrence to Krodhana, and he related it in the presence of
the king of Vatsa; and all the people in the king's court mocked
him, saying, that his wife had justly taken away his man's dress
and suitably punished him, because he had lost all manly spirit and
faculty of just resentment, and so become a woman. But in spite of
their ridicule he remains there with heart of adamant, proof against
shame. So what confidence, your Royal Highness, can be placed in women?
When Gomukha had said this, Marubhúti went on to say, "The mind of
woman is unstable, hear a tale in illustration of this truth."
Story of king Sinhabala and his fickle wife.
Formerly there dwelt in the Deccan a king, of the name of
Sinhabala. And his wife named Kalyánavatí, the daughter of a prince
of Málava, was dear to him above all the women of his harem. And
the king ruled the realm with her as consort, but once on a time he
was expelled from his kingdom by his powerful relations, who banded
together against him. And then the king, accompanied by the queen,
with his weapons and but few attendants, set out for the house of
his father-in-law in Málava.
And as he was going along through a forest, which lay in his road,
a lion charged him, and the hero easily cut it in two with a stroke of
his sword. And when a wild elephant came at him trumpeting, he circled
round it and cut off with his sword its trunk and feet, and stripped
it of its jewel, and killed it. And alone he dispersed the hosts of
bandits like lotuses, and trampled them, as the elephant, lord of the
forest, tramples the beds of white water-lilies. Thus he accomplished
the journey, and his wonderful courage was seen, and so he reached
Málava, and then this sea of valour said to his wife: "You must not
tell in your father's house this that happened to me on the journey,
it will bring shame to me, my queen, for what is there laudable in
courage displayed by a man of the military caste?" After he had given
her this injunction, he entered his father-in-law's house with her,
and when eagerly questioned by him, told his story. His father-in-law
honoured him, and gave him elephants and horses, and then he repaired
to a very powerful king named Gajáníka. But being intent on conquering
his enemies, he left his wife Kalyánavatí there in her father's house.
Some days after he had gone, his wife, while standing at the window,
saw a certain man. The moment she saw him, he captivated her heart by
his good looks; and being drawn on by love, she immediately thought,
"I know, no one is more handsome or more brave than my husband, but
alas! my mind is attracted towards this man. So let what must be, be. I
will have an interview with him." So she determined in her own mind,
and told her desire to a female attendant, who was her confidante. And
she made her bring him at night, and introduce him into the women's
apartments by the window, pulling him up with a rope. When the man
was introduced, he had not courage to sit boldly on the sofa on which
she was, but sat apart on a chair. The queen, when she saw that,
was despondent, thinking he was a mean man, and at that very moment a
snake, which was roaming about, came down from the roof. When the man
saw the snake, he sprang up quickly in fear, and taking his bow, he
killed the snake with an arrow. And when it fell dead, he threw it out
of the window, and in his delight at having escaped that danger, the
coward danced for joy. When Kalyánavatí saw him dancing, she was cast
down, and thought to herself over and over again: "Alas! alas! What
have I to do with this mean-spirited coward?" And her friend, who
was a discerning person, saw that she was disgusted, and so she went
out, and quickly returned with assumed trepidation, and said, "Queen,
your father has come, so let this young man quickly return to his own
house by the way by which he came." When she said this, he went out
of the window by means of the rope, and being overpowered by fear,
he fell, but as luck would have it, he was not killed.
When he had gone, Kalyánavatí said to her confidante,--"My friend,
you have acted rightly in turning out this low fellow. [15] You
penetrated my feelings, for my heart is vexed. My husband, after
slaying tigers and lions, conceals it through modesty, and this
cowardly man, after killing a snake, dances for joy. So why should I
desert such a husband and fall in love with a common fellow? Curse
on my unstable mind, or rather curse on women, who are like flies
that leave camphor and haste to impurity!" The queen spent the
night in these self-reproaches, and afterwards remained waiting in
her father's house for the return of her husband. In the meanwhile
Sinhabala, having been supplied with another army by king Gajáníka,
slew those five wicked relations. Then he recovered his kingdom,
and at the same time brought back his wife from her father's house,
and after loading his father-in-law with abundance of wealth, he
ruled the earth for a long time without opposition.
"So you see, king, that the mind of even discerning women is fickle,
and, though they have brave and handsome husbands, wanders hither
and thither, but women of pure character are scarce."
When Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, had heard this
story related by Marubhúti, he sank off into a sound sleep and so
passed the night.
CHAPTER LIX.
Early the next day, Naraváhanadatta, after he had performed his
necessary duties, went to his garden by way of amusement. And while
he was there, he saw first a blaze of splendour descend from heaven,
and after it a company of many Vidyádhara females. And in the middle
of those glittering ones, he saw a maiden charming to the eye like
a digit of the moon in the middle of the stars, with face like an
opening lotus, with rolling eyes like circling bees, with the swimming
gait of a swan, diffusing the perfume of a blue lotus, with dimples
charming like waves, with waist adorned with a string of pearls, like
the presiding goddess of the lovely lake in Cupid's garden, appearing
in bodily form. And the prince, when he saw that charming enamoured
creature, a medicine potent to revive the god of love, was disturbed
like the sea, when it beholds the orb of the moon. And he approached
her, saying to his ministers--"Ah! extraordinary is the variety in
producing fair ones that is characteristic of Providence!" And when
she looked at him with a sidelong look tender with passion, he asked
her--"Who are you, auspicious one, and why have you come here?" When
the maiden heard that, she said, "Listen, I will tell you."
"There is a town of gold on the Himálayas, named Kánchanasringa. In
it there lives a king of the Vidyádharas, named Sphatikayasas, who is
just, and kind to the wretched, the unprotected, and those who seek his
aid. Know that I am his daughter, born to him by the queen Hemaprabhá,
in consequence of a boon granted by Gaurí. And I, being the youngest
child, and having five brothers, and being dear to my father as his
life, kept by his advice propitiating Gaurí with vows and hymns. She,
being pleased, bestowed on me all the magic sciences, and deigned to
address me thus--'Thy might in science shall be tenfold that of thy
father, and thy husband shall be Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king
of Vatsa, the future emperor of the Vidyádharas. After the consort of
Siva had said this, she disappeared, and by her favour I obtained the
sciences and gradually grew up. And last night the goddess appeared to
me and commanded me--'To-morrow, my daughter, thou must go and visit
thy husband, and thou must return here the same day, for in a month
thy father, who has long entertained this intention, will give thee in
marriage.' The goddess, after giving me this command, disappeared, and
the night came to an end; so here I am come, your Highness, to pay you
a visit. So now I will depart." Having said this, Saktiyasas flew up
into the heaven with her attendants, and returned to her father's city.
But Naraváhanadatta, being eager to marry her, went in disappointed,
considering the month as long as a yuga. And Gomukha, seeing that
he was despondent, said to him, "Listen, prince, I will tell you a
delightful story."
Story of king Sumanas, the Nisháda maiden and the learned parrot. [16]
In old time there was a city named Kánchanapurí, and in it there
lived a great king named Sumanas. He was of extraordinary splendour,
and crossing difficult and inaccessible regions, he conquered the
fortresses and fastnesses of his foes. Once, as he was sitting in
the hall of assembly, the warder said to him--"King, the daughter of
the king of the Nishádas, named Muktálatá, is standing outside the
door with a parrot in a cage, accompanied by her brother Víraprabha,
and wishes to see your Majesty." The king said "Let her enter," and,
introduced by the warder, the Bhilla maiden entered the enclosure of
the king's hall of assembly. And all there, when they saw her beauty,
thought--"This is not a mortal maiden, surely this is some heavenly
nymph." And she bowed before the king and spoke as follows--"King,
here is a parrot that knows the four Vedas, called Sástraganja,
a poet skilled in all the sciences and in the graceful arts, and I
have brought him here to-day by the order of king Maya, so receive
him." With these words she handed over the parrot, and it was brought
by the warder near the king, as he had a curiosity to see it, and it
recited the following sloka:
"King, this is natural, that the black-faced smoke of thy valour
should be continually increased by the windy sighs of the widows
of thy enemies, but this is strange, that the strong flame of thy
valour blazes in the ten cardinal points all the more fiercely on
account of the overflowing of the copious tears wrung from them by
the humiliation of defeat."
When the parrot had recited this sloka, it began to reflect, and
said again, "What do you wish to know? tell me from what sástra I
shall recite."
Then the king was much astonished, but his minister said--"I suspect,
my lord, this is some rishi of ancient days become a parrot on account
of a curse, but owing to his piety he remembers his former birth,
and so recollects what he formerly read." When the ministers said this
to the king, the king said to the parrot--"I feel curiosity, my good
parrot, tell me your story, where is your place of birth? How comes it
that in your parrot condition you know the sástras? Who are you?" Then
the parrot shed tears and slowly spoke: "The story is sad to tell,
O king, but listen, I will tell it in obedience to thy command."
The parrot's account of his own life as a parrot.
Near the Himálayas, O king, there is a rohiní tree, which resembles
the Vedas, in that many birds take refuge in its branches that extend
through the heaven, as Bráhmans in the various branches of the sacred
tradition. [17] There a cock-parrot used to dwell with his hen, and to
that pair I was born, by the influence of my evil works in a former
life. And as soon as I was born, the hen-parrot, my mother, died,
but my old father put me under his wing, and fostered me tenderly. And
he continued to live there, eating what remained over from the fruits
brought by the other parrots, and giving some to me.
Once on a time, there came there to hunt a terrible army of Bhillas,
making a noise with cows' horns strongly blown; and the whole of