The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
the air, with Somaprabha, who was carried in the arms of Devajaya.
When she arrived there, Makarandiká welcomed her, and seeing
Somaprabha, asked, "Who is this?" And when Manorathaprabhá told
his story, the heart of Makarandiká was immediately captivated by
him. He, for his part, thought in his mind, deeming he had come upon
Good Fortune in bodily form--"Who is the fortunate man destined to
be her bridegroom?"
Then, in confidential conversation, Manorathaprabhá put the
following question to Makarandiká; "Fair one, why do you not wish
to be married?" And she, when she heard this, answered:--"How could
I desire marriage until you have accepted a bridegroom, for you are
dearer to me than life?" When Makarandiká said this in an affectionate
manner, Manorathaprabhá said--"I have chosen a bridegroom, fair one;
I am waiting here in hopes of union with him." When she said this,
Makarandiká said--"I will do as you direct." [19]
Then Manorathaprabhá, seeing the real state of her feelings, said
to her, "My friend, Somaprabha has come here as your guest, after
wandering through the world, so you must entertain him as a guest
with becoming hospitality." When Makarandiká heard this, she said:--"I
have already bestowed on him, by way of hospitality, every thing but
myself, but let him accept me, if he is willing." When she said this,
Manorathaprabhá told their love to her father, and arranged a marriage
between them. Then Somaprabha recovered his spirits, and delighted
said to her:--"I must go now to your hermitage, for possibly my army,
commanded by my minister, may come there tracking my course, and if
they do not find me, they may return, suspecting something untoward. So
I will depart, and after I have learned the tidings of the host,
I will return, and certainly marry Makarandiká on an auspicious
day." When Manorathaprabhá heard that, she consented, and took him
back to her own hermitage, making Devajaya carry him in his arms.
In the meanwhile his minister Priyankara came there with the
army, tracking his footsteps. And while Somaprabha, in delight,
was recounting his adventures to his minister, whom he met there,
a messenger came from his father, with a written message that he was
to return quickly. Then, by the advice of his minister, he went with
his army back to his own city, in order not to disobey his father's
command, and as he started, he said to Manorathaprabhá and Devajaya,
"I will return as soon as I have seen my father."
Then Devajaya went and informed Makarandiká of that, and in consequence
she became afflicted with the sorrow of separation. She took no
pleasure in the garden, nor in singing, nor in the society of her
ladies-in-waiting, nor did she listen to the amusing voices of the
parrots; she did not take food; much less did she care about adorning
herself. And though her parents earnestly admonished her, she did not
recover her spirits. And she soon left her couch of lotus-fibres,
and wandered about like an insane woman, causing distress to her
parents. And when she would not listen to their words, though they
tried to console her, her parents in their anger pronounced this
curse on her, "You shall fall for some time among the unfortunate
race of the Nishádas, with this very body of yours, without the power
of remembering your former birth." When thus cursed by her parents,
Makarandiká entered the house of a Nisháda, and became that very
moment a Nisháda maiden. And her father Sinhavikrama, the king of the
Vidyádharas, repented, and through grief for her died, and so did his
wife. Now that king of the Vidyádharas was in a former birth a rishi
who knew all the sástras, but now on account of some remnant of former
sin he has become this parrot, and his wife also has been born as a
wild sow, and this parrot, owing to the power of former austerities,
remembers what it learned in a former life.
"So I laughed, considering the marvellous results of his works. But
he shall be released, as soon as he has told this tale in the court
of a king. And Somaprabha shall obtain the parrot's daughter in his
Vidyádhara birth, Makarandiká, who has now become a Nisháda female. And
Manorathaprabhá also shall obtain the hermit's son Rasmimat, who has
now become a king; but Somaprabha, as soon as he had seen his father,
returned to her hermitage, and remains there propitiating Siva in
order to recover his beloved."
When the hermit Pulastya had said thus much, he ceased, and I
remembered my birth, and was plunged in grief and joy. Then the hermit
Maríchi, who carried me out of pity to the hermitage, took me and
reared me. And when my wings grew, I flew about hither and thither
with the flightiness natural to a bird, [20] displaying the miracle
of my learning. And falling into the hands of a Nisháda, I have in
course of time reached your court. And now my evil works have spent
their force, having been brought with me into the body of a bird.
When the learned and eloquent parrot had finished this tale in the
presence of the court, king Sumanas suddenly felt his soul filled with
astonishment, and disturbed with love. In the meanwhile Siva, being
pleased, said to Somaprabha in a dream--"Rise up, king, and go into the
presence of king Sumanas, there thou wilt find thy beloved. For the
maiden, named Makarandiká, has become, by the curse of her father,
a Nisháda maiden, named Muktálatá, and she has gone with her own
father, who has become a parrot, to the court of the king. And when
she sees thee, her curse will come to an end, and she will remember
her existence as a Vidyádhara maiden, and then a union will take place
between you, the joy of which will be increased by your recognizing
one another." Having said this to that king, Siva, who is merciful to
all his worshippers, said to Manorathaprabhá, who also was living in
his hermitage, "The hermit's son Rasmimat, whom thou didst accept as
thy bridegroom, has been born again under the name of Sumanas, so go
to him and obtain him, fair one; he will at once remember his former
birth, when he beholds thee." So Somaprabha and the Vidyádhara maiden,
being separately commanded in a dream by Siva, went immediately to the
court of that Sumanas. And there Makarandiká, on beholding Somaprabha,
immediately remembered her former birth, and being released from her
long curse, and recovering her heavenly body, she embraced him. And
Somaprabha, having, by the favour of Siva, obtained that daughter
of the Vidyádhara prince, as if she were the incarnate fortune of
heavenly enjoyment, embraced her, and considered himself to have
attained his object. And king Sumanas, having beheld Manorathaprabhá,
remembered his former birth, and entered his former body, that fell
from heaven, and became Rasmimat the son of the chief of hermits. And
once more united with his beloved, for whom he had long yearned,
he entered his own hermitage, and king Somaprabha departed with his
beloved to his own city. And the parrot too left the body of a bird,
and went to the home earned by his asceticism.
"Thus you see that the appointed union of human beings certainly
takes place in this world, though vast spaces intervene." When
Naraváhanadatta heard this wonderful, romantic, and agreeable story
from his own minister Gomukha, as he was longing for Saktiyasas,
he was much pleased.
CHAPTER LX.
Then the chief minister Gomukha, having told the story of the two
Vidyádhara maidens, said to Naraváhanadatta, "Some ordinary men even,
being kindly disposed towards the three worlds, resist with firm
resolution the disturbance of love and other passions.
Story of Súravarman who spared his guilty wife.
For the king Kuladhara once had a servant of distinguished valour,
a young man of good family, named Súravarman. And one day, as he was
returning from war, he entered his house suddenly, and found his wife
alone with his friend. And when he saw it, he restrained his wrath,
and in his self-control reflected, "What is the use of slaying this
animal who has betrayed his friend? Or of punishing this wicked
woman? Why too should I saddle my soul with a load of guilt?" After
he had thus reflected, he left them both unharmed and said to them,
"I will kill whichever of you two I see again. You must neither of
you come in my sight again. When he said this and let them depart,
they went away to some distant place, but Súravarman married another
wife, and lived there in comfort.
"Thus, prince, a man who conquers wrath will not be subject to grief;
and a man, who displays prudence, is never harmed. Even in the case
of animals prudence produces success, not valour. In proof of it,
hear this story about the lion, and the bull, and other animals."
Story of the Ox abandoned in the Forest. [21]
There was in a certain city a rich merchant's son. Once on a time, as
he was going to the city of Mathurá to trade, a draught-bull belonging
to him, named Sanjívaka, as it was dragging the yoke vigorously,
broke it, and so slipped in the path, which had become muddy by a
mountain torrent flowing into it, and fell and bruised its limbs. The
merchant's son, seeing that the bull was unable to move on account of
its bruises, and not succeeding in his attempts to raise it up from the
ground, at last in despair went off and left it there. And, as fate
would have it, the bull slowly revived, and rose up, and by eating
tender grass recovered its former condition. And it went to the bank
of the Yamuná, and by eating green grass and wandering about at will,
it became fat and strong. And it roamed about there, with full hump,
wantoning, like the bull of Siva, tearing up ant-hills with its horns,
and bellowing frequently.
Now at that time there lived in a neighbouring wood a lion named
Pingalaka, who had subdued the forest by his might; and that king
of beasts had two jackals for ministers; the name of the one was
Damanaka, and the name of the other was Karataka. That lion, going
one day to the bank of the Yamuná to drink water, heard close to
him the roar of that bull Sanjívaka. And when the lion heard the
roar of that bull, never heard before, resounding through the air,
he thought, "What animal makes this sound? Surely some great creature
dwells here, so I will depart, for if it saw me, it might slay me,
or expel me from the forest." Thereupon the lion quickly returned to
the forest without drinking water, and continued in a state of fear,
hiding his feelings from his followers.
Then the wise jackal [22] Damanaka, the minister of that king,
said secretly to Karataka the second minister, "Our master went to
drink water; so how comes it that he has so quickly returned without
drinking? We must ask him the reason." Then Karataka said--"What
business is this of ours? Have you not heard the story of the ape
that drew out the wedge?"
Story of the monkey that pulled out the wedge. [23]
In a certain town, a merchant had begun to build a temple to a
divinity, and had accumulated much timber. The workmen there, after
sawing through the upper half of a plank, placed a wedge in it, and
leaving it thus suspended, went home. In the meanwhile a monkey came
there and bounded up out of mischief, and sat on the plank, the parts
of which were separated by the wedge. And he sat in the gap between
the two parts, as if in the mouth of death, and in purposeless mischief
pulled out the wedge. Then he fell with the plank, the wedge of which
had been pulled out, and was killed, having his limbs crushed by the
flying together of the separated parts.
"Thus a person is ruined by meddling with what is not his own
business. So what is the use of our penetrating the mind of the
king of beasts?" When the grave Damanaka heard Karataka say this,
he answered--"Certainly wise ministers must penetrate and observe