The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
that great wood was like an army fleeing in rout, with terrified
antelopes for dust-stained banners, and the bushy tails of the
chamarí deer, agitated in fear, resembling chowries, as the host of
Pulindas rushed upon it to slay various living creatures. And after
the army of Savaras had spent the day in the hunting-grounds, in the
sport of death, they returned with the loads of flesh which they had
obtained. But a certain aged Savara, who had not obtained any flesh,
saw the tree in the evening, and being hungry, approached it, and
he quickly climbed up it, and kept dragging parrots and other birds
from their nests, killing them, and flinging them on the ground. And
when I saw him coming near, like the minister of Yama, I slowly crept
in fear underneath the wing of my father. And in the meanwhile the
ruffian came near our nest, and dragged out my father, and wringing
his neck, flung him down on the ground at the foot of the tree. And
I fell with my father, and slipping out from underneath his wing, I
slowly crept in my fear into the grass and leaves. Then the rascally
Bhilla came down, and roasted some of the parrots and ate them,
and others he carried off to his own village.
Then my fear was at an end, but I spent a night long from grief, and in
the morning, when the flaming eye [18] of the world had mounted high
in the heaven, I, being thirsty, went to the bank of a neighbouring
lake full of lotuses, tumbling frequently, clinging to the earth
with my wings, and there I saw on the sand of the lake a hermit,
named Maríchi, who had just bathed, as it were my good works in a
former state of existence. He, when he saw me, refreshed me with
drops of water flung in my face, and, putting me in the hollow of
a leaf, out of pity, carried me to his hermitage. There Pulastya,
the head of the hermitage, laughed when he saw me, and being asked
by the other hermits, why he laughed, having supernatural insight,
he said--"When I beheld this parrot, who is a parrot in consequence
of a curse, I laughed out of sorrow, but after I have said my daily
prayers, I will tell a story connected with him, which shall cause
him to remember his former birth, and the occurrences of his former
lives." After saying this, the hermit Pulastya rose up for his daily
prayer, and, after he had performed his daily prayer, being again
solicited by the hermits, the great sage told this story concerning me.
The hermit's story of Somaprabha, Manorathaprabhá, and Makarandiká,
wherein it appears who the parrot was in a former birth.
There lived in the city of Ratnákara a king named Jyotishprabha,
who ruled the earth with supreme authority, as far as the sea, the
mine of jewels. There was born to him, by his queen named Harshavatí,
a son, whose birth was due to the favour of Siva propitiated by severe
asceticism. Because the queen saw in a dream the moon entering her
mouth, the king gave his son the name of Somaprabha. And the prince
gradually grew up with ambrosial qualities, furnishing a feast to
the eyes of the subjects.
And his father Jyotishprabha, seeing that he was brave, young, beloved
by the subjects, and able to bear the weight of empire, gladly anointed
him crown-prince. And he gave him as minister the virtuous Priyankara,
the son of his own minister named Prabhákara. On that occasion Mátali
descended from the heaven with a celestial horse, and coming up to
Somaprabha, said to him: "You are a Vidyádhara, a friend of Indra's,
born on earth, and he has sent you an excellent horse named Ásusravas,
the son of Uchchhaihsravas, in memory of his former friendship;
if you mount it, you will be invincible by your foes." After the
charioteer of Indra had said this, he gave Somaprabha that splendid
horse, and after receiving due honour, he flew up to heaven again.
Then Somaprabha spent that day pleasantly in feasting, and the next
day said to his father the king; "My father, the duty of a Kshatriya
is not complete without a desire for conquest, so permit me to march
out to the conquest of the regions." When his father Jyotishprabha
heard that, he was pleased, and consented, and made arrangements for
his expedition. Then Somaprabha bowed before his father, and marched
out on an auspicious day, with his forces, for the conquest of the
regions, mounted on the horse given by Indra. And by the help of his
splendid horse, he conquered the kings of every part of the world,
and being irresistible in might, he stripped them of their jewels. He
bent his bow and the necks of his enemies at the same time; the bow was
unbent again, but the heads of his enemies were never again uplifted.
Then, as he was returning in triumph, on a path which led him near the
Himálayas, he made his army encamp, and went hunting in a wood. And
as chance would have it, he saw there a Kinnara, made of a splendid
jewel, and he pursued him on his horse given by Indra, with the object
of capturing him. The Kinnara entered a cavern in the mountain, and
was lost to view, but the prince was carried far away by that horse.
And when the sun, after diffusing illumination over the quarters of
the world, had reached the western peak, where he meets the evening
twilight, the prince, being tired, managed, though with difficulty,
to return, and he beheld a great lake, and wishing to pass the night
on its shores, he dismounted from his horse. And after he had given
grass and water to the horse, and had taken fruits and water himself,
and felt rested, he suddenly heard from a certain quarter the sound
of a song. Out of curiosity he went in the direction of the sound,
and saw at no great distance a heavenly nymph, singing in front of
a linga of Siva. He said to himself in astonishment, "Who may this
lovely one be?" And she, seeing that he was of noble appearance, said
to him bashfully--"Tell me, who are you? How did you reach alone this
inaccessible place?" When he heard this, he told his story, and asked
her in turn, "Tell me, who are you and what is your business in this
wood?" When he asked this question, the heavenly maiden said--"If you
have any desire, noble sir, to hear my tale, listen, I will tell it;"
after this preface she began to speak with a gushing flood of tears.
Episode of Manorathaprabhá and Rasmimat.
There is here, on the table-land of the Himálayas, a city named
Kánchanábha, and in it there dwells a king of the Vidyádharas named
Padmakúta. Know that I am the daughter of that king by his queen
Hemaprabhá, and that my name is Manorathaprabhá, and my father loves
me more than his life. I, by the power of my science, used to visit,
with my female companions, the isles, and the principal mountains,
and the woods, and the gardens, and after amusing myself, I made a
point of returning every day at my father's meal-time, at the third
watch of the day, to my palace. Once on a time I arrived here as I
was roaming about, and I saw on the shore of the lake a hermit's son
with his companion. And being summoned by the splendour of his beauty,
as if by a female messenger, I approached him, and he welcomed me with
a wistful look. And then I sat down, and my friend, perceiving the
feelings of both, put this question to him through his companion,
"Who are you, noble sir, tell me?" And his companion said; "Not
far from here, my friend, there lives in a hermitage a hermit named
Dídhitimat. He, being subject to a strict vow of chastity, was seen
once, when he came to bathe in this lake, by the goddess Srí, who came
there at the same time. As she could not obtain him in the flesh, as he
was a strict ascetic, and yet longed for him earnestly with her mind,
she conceived a mind-born son. And she took that son to Dídhitimat,
saying to him, 'I have obtained this son by looking at you; receive
it.' And after giving the son to the hermit, Srí disappeared. And the
hermit gladly received the son, so easily obtained, and gave him the
name of Rasmimat, and gradually reared him, and after investing him
with the sacred thread, taught him out of love all the sciences. Know
that you see before you in this young hermit that very Rasmimat the
son of Srí, come here with me on a pleasure journey." When my friend
had heard this from the youth's friend, she, being questioned by him
in turn, told my name and descent as I have now told it to you.
Then I and the hermit's son became still more in love with one another
from hearing one another's descent, and while we were lingering there,
a second attendant came and said to me, "Rise up, your father, fair
one, is waiting for you in the dining-room of the palace." When I heard
that, I said--"I will return quickly," and leaving the youth there, I
went into the presence of my father out of fear. And when I came out,
having taken a very little food, the first attendant came to me and
said of her own accord: "The friend of that hermit's son came here,
my friend, and standing at the door of the court said to me in a state
of hurried excitement--'Rasmimat has sent me here now, bestowing on me
the power of travelling in the air, which he inherits from his father,
to see Manorathaprabhá: he is reduced to a terrible state by love and
cannot retain his breath a moment longer, without that mistress of
his life.'" The moment I heard this, I left my father's palace, and,
accompanied by that friend of the hermit's son, who showed me the way,
and my attendant, I came here, and when I arrived here, I saw that
that hermit's son, separated from me, had resigned, at the rising of
the moon, the nectar of his life. So I, grieved by separation from
him, was blaming my vital frame, and longing to enter the fire with
his body. But at that very moment a man, with a body like a mass of
flame, descended from the sky, and flew up to heaven with his body.
Then I was desirous to hurl myself into the fire alone, but at that
moment a voice issued from the air here; "Manorathaprabhá, do not
do this thing, for at the appointed time thou shalt be re-united
to this thy hermit's son." On hearing this, I gave up the idea of
suicide, and here I remain full of hope, waiting for him, engaged
in the worship of Siva. And as for the friend of the hermit's son,
he has disappeared somewhere.
When the Vidyádhara maiden had said this, Somaprabha said to her,
"Then, why do you remain alone, where is that female attendant of
yours?" When the Vidyádhara maiden heard this, she answered: "There is
a king of the Vidyádharas, named Sinhavikrama, and he has a matchless
daughter named Makarandiká; she is a friend of mine, dear as my life,
who sympathizes with my grief, and she to-day sent her attendant to
learn tidings of me. So I sent back my own attendant to her, with her
attendant; it is for that reason that I am at present alone." As she
was saying this, she pointed out to Somaprabha her attendant descending
from heaven. And she made the attendant, after she had told her news,
strew a bed of leaves for Somaprabha, and also give grass to his horse.
Then, after passing the night, they rose up in the morning, and
saw approaching a Vidyádhara, who had descended from heaven. And
that Vidyádhara, whose name was Devajaya, after sitting down, spoke
thus to Manorathaprabhá--"Manorathaprabhá, king Sinhavikrama informs
you that your friend, his daughter Makarandiká, out of love for you,
refuses to marry until you have obtained a bridegroom. So he wishes you
to go there and admonish her, that she may be ready to marry." When
the Vidyádhara maiden heard this, she prepared to go, out of regard
for her friend, and then Somaprabha said to her:--"Virtuous one, I
have a curiosity to see the Vidyádhara world: so take me there, and
let my horse remain here supplied with grass." When she heard that,
she consented, and taking her attendant with her, she flew through