The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
this order from the king, they said, "We will do so," and remained
continually watching the corpse of Karpara.
Then Ghata made enquiries, and found out what was going on, and said to
the princess; "My dear, my comrade Karpara was a very dear friend to
me, and by means of him I gained you and all these valuable jewels;
so until I have paid to him the debt of friendship, I cannot rest
in peace. So I will go and see his corpse, and by a device of mine
manage to lament over it, and I will in due course burn the body,
and scatter the bones in a holy place. And do not be afraid, I am not
reckless like Karpara." After he had said this to her, he immediately
assumed the appearance of a Pásupata ascetic, and taking boiled rice
and milk in a pot, he went near the corpse of Karpara, as if he were a
person passing that way casually, and when he got near it, he slipped,
and let fall from his hand and broke that pot of milk and rice, and
began lamenting, "O Karpara full of sweetness," [128] and so on. And
the guards thought that he was grieving for his pot full of food,
that he had got by begging. And immediately he went home and told
that to the princess. And the next day he made a servant, dressed as
a bride, go in front of him, and he had another behind him, carrying a
vessel full of sweetmeats, in which the juice of the Dhattúra had been
infused. And he himself assumed the appearance of a drunken villager,
and so in the evening he came reeling along past those guards, who were
watching the body of Karpara. They said to him, "Who are you, friend,
and who is this lady, and where are you going?" Then the cunning fellow
answered them with stuttering accents, "I am a villager; this is my
wife; I am going to the house of my father-in-law; and I am taking
for him this complimentary present of sweetmeats. But you have now
become my friends by speaking to me, so I will take only half of the
sweetmeats there; take the other half for yourselves." Saying this,
he gave a sweetmeat to each of the guards. And they received them,
laughing, and all of them partook of them. Accordingly Ghata, having
stupefied the guards with Dhattúra, at night brought fuel [129]
and burnt the body of Karpara.
The next morning, after he had departed, the king hearing of it,
removed those guards who had been stupefied, and placed others there,
and said; "You must guard these bones, and you must arrest whoever
attempts to take them away, and you must not accept food from any
outsider." When the guards were thus instructed by the king, they
remained on the lookout day and night, and Ghata heard of it. Then he,
being acquainted with the operation of a bewildering charm granted
him by Durgá, made a wandering mendicant his friend, in order to make
them repose confidence in him. And he went there with that wandering
mendicant, who was muttering spells, and bewildered those guards,
and recovered the bones of Karpara. And after throwing them into the
Ganges, he came and related what he had done, and lived happily with
the princess, accompanied by the mendicant. But the king, hearing that
the bones had been carried off, and the men guarding them stupefied,
thought that the whole exploit, beginning with the carrying off of
his daughter, was the doing of a magician. And he had the following
proclamation made in his city; "If that magician, who carried off my
daughter, and performed the other exploits connected with that feat,
will reveal himself, I will give him half my kingdom." When Ghata heard
this, he wished to reveal himself, but the princess dissuaded him,
saying, "Do not do so, you cannot repose any confidence in this king,
who treacherously puts people to death." [130] Then, for fear that,
if he remained there, the truth might come out, he set out for another
country with the princess and the mendicant.
And on the way the princess said secretly to the mendicant, "The
other one of these thieves seduced me, and this one made me fall
from my high rank. The other thief is dead, as for this, Ghata, I do
not love him, you are my darling." When she had said this, she united
herself to the mendicant, and killed Ghata in the dead of night. Then,
as she was journeying along with that mendicant, the wicked woman
fell in with a merchant on the way, whose name was Dhanadeva. So
she said, "Who is this skull-bearer? You are my darling," and she
left that mendicant, while he was asleep, and went off with that
merchant. And in the morning the mendicant woke up, and reflected,
"There is no love in women, and no courtesy free from fickleness,
for, after lulling me into security, the wicked woman has gone off,
and robbed me too. However, I ought perhaps to consider myself lucky,
that I have not been killed like Ghata." After these reflections,
the mendicant returned to his own country.
Story of Dhanadeva's wife.
And the princess, travelling on with the merchant, reached his
country. And when Dhanadeva arrived there, he said to himself; "Why
should I rashly introduce this unchaste woman into my house? So,
as it was evening, he went into the house of an old woman in that
place, with the princess. And at night he asked that old woman,
who did not recognize him, "Mother, do you know any tidings about
the family of Dhanadeva?" When the old woman heard that, she said,
"What tidings is there except that his wife is always ready to take
a new lover. For a basket, covered with leather, is let down every
night from the window here, and whoever enters it, is drawn up into the
house, and is dismissed in the same way at the end of the night. And
the woman is always stupefied with drink, so that she is absolutely
void of discernment. And this state of hers has become well-known
in the whole city. And though her husband has been long away, he has
not yet returned."
When Dhanadeva heard this speech of the old woman's, he went out that
moment on some pretext, and repaired to his own house, being full
of inward grief and uncertainty. And seeing a basket let down by the
female servants with ropes, he entered it, and they pulled up him into
the house. And his wife, who was stupefied with drink, embraced him
most affectionately, without knowing who he was. But he was quite cast
down at seeing her degradation. And thereupon she fell into a drunken
sleep. And at the end of the night, the female servants let him down
again quickly from the window, in the basket suspended with ropes. And
the merchant reflected in his grief, "Enough of the folly of being a
family man, for women in a house are a snare! It is always this story
with them, so a life in the forest is much to be preferred." Having
formed this resolve, Dhanadeva abandoned the princess into the bargain,
and set out for a distant forest. And on the way he met, and struck up
a friendship with, a young Bráhman, named Rudrasoma, who had lately
returned from a long absence abroad. When he told him his story,
the Bráhman became anxious about his own wife; and so he arrived in
the company of that merchant at his own village in the evening.
Story of the wife of the Bráhman Rudrasoma.
And when he arrived there, he saw a cowherd, on the bank of the river,
near his house, singing with joy, like one beside himself. So he said
to him in joke, "Cowherd, is any young woman in love with you, that you
sing thus in your rapture, counting the world as stubble?" "When the
cowherd heard that, he laughed and said, "I have a great secret. [131]
The head of this village, a Bráhman, named Rudrasoma, has been long
away, and I visit his wife every night; her maid introduces me into
the house dressed as a woman." When Rudrasoma heard this, he restrained
his anger, and wishing to find out the truth, he said to the cowherd;
"If such kindness is shewn to guests here, give me this dress of yours,
and let me go there to-night: I feel great curiosity about it." The
cowherd said, "Do so, take this black rug of mine, and this stick,
and remain here until her maid comes. And she will take you for me,
and will give you a female dress, and invite you to come, so go there
boldly at night, and I will take repose this night." When the cowherd
said this, the Bráhman Rudrasoma took from him the stick and the rug,
and stood there, personating him. And the cowherd stood at a little
distance, with that merchant Dhanadeva, and then the maid came. She
walked silently up to him in the darkness, and wrapped him up in a
woman's dress, and said to him, "Come along," and so took him off
to his wife, thinking that he was the cowherd. When his wife saw
Rudrasoma, she sprang up and embraced him, supposing that he was
the cowherd, and then Rudrasoma thought to himself; "Alas! wicked
women fall in love with a base man, if only he is near them, for this
vicious wife of mine has fallen in love with a cowherd, merely because
be is near at hand." Then he made some excuse with faltering voice,
and went, disgusted in mind, to Dhanadeva. And after he had told his
adventure in his own house, he said to that merchant; "I too will
go with you to the forest; perish my family!" So Rudrasoma and the
merchant Dhanadeva set out together for the forest.
Story of the wife of Sasin.
And on the way a friend of Dhanadeva's, named Sasin, joined them. And
in the course of conversation they told him their circumstances. And
when Sasin heard that, being a jealous man, and having just returned
from a long absence in a foreign land, he became anxious about his
wife, though he had locked her up in a cellar. And Sasin, travelling
along with them, came near his own house in the evening, and was
desirous of entertaining them. But he saw there a man singing in an
amorous mood, who had an evil smell, and whose hands and feet were
eaten away with leprosy. And in his astonishment, he asked him; "Who
are you, sir, that you are so cheerful?" And the leper said to him,
"I am the god of love." Sasin answered, "There can be no mistake
about that. The splendour of your beauty is sufficient evidence for
your being the god of love." Thereupon the leper continued, "Listen,
I will tell you something. A rogue here, named Sasin, being jealous
of his wife, locked her up in a cellar with one servant to attend on
her, and went to a foreign land. But that wife of his happened to see
me here, and immediately surrendered herself to me, her heart being
drawn towards me by love. And I spend every night with her, for the
maid takes me on her back and carries me in. So tell me if I am not
the god of love. Who, that was the favoured lover of the beautiful
wife of Sasin, could care for other women?" When Sasin heard this
speech of the leper's, he suppressed his grief, intolerable as a
hurricane, and wishing to discover the truth, he said to the leper,
"In truth you are the god of love, so I have a boon to crave of your
godship. I feel great curiosity about this lady from your description
of her, so I will go there this very night disguised as yourself. Be
propitious to your suppliant: you will lose but little, as you can
attain this object every day." When Sasin made this request, the
leper said to him; "So be it! take this dress of mine and give me
yours, and remain covering up your hands and feet with your clothes,
as you see me do, until her maid comes, which will be as soon as it
becomes dark. And she will mistake you for me, and put you on her
back, and you must submit to go there in that fashion, for I always
have to go in that way, having lost the use of my hands and feet from
leprosy." Thereupon Sasin put on the leper's dress and remained there,
but the leper and Sasin's two companions remained a little way off.
Then Sasin's wife's maid came, and supposing that he was the leper,
as he had his dress on, said, "Come along," and took him up on her