The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
was king. She begged there in the same way, and, as she was honoured
by the citizens as a devoted wife the fame of her virtue reached
the ears of the king. And the king had her summoned, with the maimed
man on her back, and, when she came near, he recognized her and said;
"Are you that devoted wife?" And the wicked woman, not recognizing her
husband, when surrounded by the splendour of the kingly office, said,
"I am that devoted wife, your Majesty." Then that incarnation of a
Bodhisattva laughed, and said; "I too have had practical experience of
your wifely devotion. How comes it that, though I your own husband,
who possess hands and feet, could not tame you, even by giving you
my own flesh and blood, which you kept feeding on like an ogress in
human form, this maimed fellow, though defective in his limbs, has
been able to tame you and make you his beast of burden? Did you carry
on your back your innocent husband, whom you threw into the river? It
is owing to that deed that you have to carry and support this maimed
man." When her husband in these words revealed her past conduct, she
recognized him, and fainting from fear, became like a painted or dead
woman. The ministers in their curiosity said, "Tell us, king, what this
means." Then the king told them the whole story. And the ministers,
when they heard that she had conspired against her husband's life,
cut off her nose and ears, and branded her, and banished her from
the country with the maimed man. And in this matter Fate shewed a
becoming combination, for it united a woman without nose and ears
with a man without hands and feet, and a man who was an incarnation
of a portion of a Bodhisattva, with the splendour of royalty.
"Thus the way of woman's heart, which is a thing full of hate,
indiscriminating, prone to the base, is difficult to fathom. And
thus good fortune comes spontaneous and unexpected, as if pleased
with them, to those of noble soul, who do not swerve from virtue and
who conquer anger." When the minister Gomukha had told this tale,
he proceeded to relate the following story.
Story of the grateful animals and the ungrateful woman. [136]
There was a certain man of noble soul, who was an incarnation of
a portion of a Bodhisattva, whose heart was melted by compassion
only, who had built a hut in a forest and lived there, performing
austerities. He, while living there, by his power rescued living
beings in distress and Pisáehas, and others he gratified by presents
of water and jewels. One day, as he was roaming about in the wood to
assist others, he saw a great well and looked into it. And a woman,
who was in it, said to him in a loud voice; "Noble sir, here are
four of us; myself a woman, a lion, and a golden-crested bird, and a
snake, fallen into this well in the night; so take us out; have mercy
upon us." When he heard this, he said, "Granted that you three fell
in because the darkness made it impossible for you to see your way,
but how did the bird fall in?" The woman answered him, "It fell in by
being caught in a fowler's net." Then the ascetic tried to lift them
out by the supernatural power of his asceticism, but he could not; on
the contrary, his power was gone. He reflected, "Surely this woman is
a sinner, and owing to my having conversed with her, my power is gone
from me. So I will use other means in this case." Then he plaited a
rope of grass, and so drew them all four up out of the well, and they
praised him. And in his astonishment he said to the lion, the bird,
and the snake; "Tell me, how come you to have articulate voice, and
what is your history?" Then the lion said, "We have articulate speech
and we remember our former births, and we are mutual enemies; hear our
stories in turns." So the lion began to tell his own story as follows:
The lion's story.
There is a splendid city on the Himálayas, called Vaidúryasringa; and
in it there is a prince of the Vidyádharas named Padmavesa, and to him
a son was born named Vajravega. That Vajravega, while he dwelt in the
world of the Vidyádharas, being a vain-glorious person, quarrelled
with any body and every body, confiding in his courage. His father
ordered him to desist, but he paid no attention to his command. Then
his father cursed him, saying, "Fall into the world of mortals." Then
his arrogance was extinguished, and his knowledge left him, and
smitten with the curse he wept, and asked his father to name a time
when it should end. Then his father Padmavega thought a little, and
said immediately; "You shall become a Bráhman's son on the earth,
and display this arrogance once more, and by your father's curse you
shall become a lion and fall into a well. And a man of noble character,
out of compassion, shall draw you out, and when you have recompensed
him in his calamity, you shall be delivered from this curse." This
was the termination of the curse which his father appointed for him.
Then Vajravega was born in Málava as Devaghosha, the son of Harighosha
a Bráhman. And in that birth also he fought with many, confiding
in his heroism, and his father said to him, "Do not go on in this
way quarrelling with every body." But he would not obey his father's
orders, so his father cursed him--"Become immediately a foolish lion,
over-confident in its strength." In consequence of this speech of
his father's, Devaghosha, that incarnation of a Vidyádhara, was again
born as a lion in this forest.
"Know that I am that lion. I was wandering about here at night, and as
chance would have it, I fell into this well; and you, noble sir, have
drawn me up out of it. So now I will depart, and, if you should fall
into any difficulty, remember me; I will do you a good turn and so get
released from my curse." After the lion had said this be went away,
and the golden-crested bird, being questioned by that Bodhisattva,
told his tale.
The golden-crested bird's story.
There is on the Himálayas a king of the Vidyádharas, named
Vajradanshtra. His queen gave birth to five daughters in
succession. And then the king propitiated Siva with austerities
and obtained a son, named Rajatadanshtra, whom he valued more than
life. His father, out of affection, bestowed the knowledge of the
sciences upon him when he was still a child, and he grew up, a feast
to the eyes of his relations.
One day he saw his eldest sister, by name Somaprabhá, playing upon
a pinjara. In his childishness he kept begging for the pinjara,
saying, "Give it me, I too want to play on it." And when she would
not give it him, in his flightiness he seized the pinjara, and
flew up to heaven with it in the form of a bird. Then his sister
cursed him, saying;--"Since you have taken my pinjara from me by
force, and flown away with it, you shall become a bird with a golden
crest." When Rajatadanshtra heard this, he fell at his sister's feet,
and entreated her to fix a time for his curse to end, and she said,
"When, foolish boy, you fall, in your bird-form, into a blind well,
and a certain merciful person draws you out, and you do him a service
in return, then you shall be released from this curse." When she had
said this to her brother, he was born as a bird with a golden crest.
"I am that same golden-crested bird, that fell into this pit
in the night, and have now been drawn out by you, so now I will
depart. Remember me when you fall into calamity, for by doing you a
service in return I shall be released from my curse." When the bird
had said this, he departed. Then the snake, being questioned by that
Bodhisattva, told his story to that great-souled one.
The snake's story.
Formerly I was the son of a hermit in the hermitage of Kasyapa. And
I had a companion there who was also the son of a hermit. And one
day my friend went down into the lake to bathe, and I remained on
the bank. And while I was there, I saw a serpent come with three
heads. And, in order to terrify that friend of mine in fun, I fixed
the serpent immoveable on the bank, opposite to where he was, by the
power of a spell. My friend got through his bathing in a moment, and
came to the bank, and unexpectedly seeing that great serpent there,
he was terrified and fainted. After some time I brought my friend
round again, but he, finding out by meditation that I had terrified
him in this way, became angry, and cursed me, saying, "Go and become
a similar great snake with three crests." Then I entreated him to fix
an end to my curse, and he said,--"When, in your serpent condition,
you fall into a well, and at a critical moment do a service to the
man who pulls you out, then you shall be freed from your curse."
"After he had said this, he departed, and I became a serpent, and now
you have drawn me out of the well; so now I will depart. And when
you think of me I will come; and by doing you a service I shall be
released from my curse."
When the snake had said this, he departed, and the woman told her
story.
The woman's story.
I am the wife of a young Kshatriya in the king's employ,
a man in the bloom of youth, brave, generous, handsome, and
high-minded. Nevertheless I was wicked enough to enter into an intrigue
with another man. When my husband found it out, he determined to
punish me. And I heard of this from my confidante, and that moment
I fled, and entered this wood at night, and fell into this well,
and was dragged out by you.
"And thanks to your kindness I will now go and maintain myself
somewhere. May a day come when I shall be able to requite your
goodness."
When the sinful woman had said this to the Bodhisattva, she went to
the town of a king named Gotravardhana. She obtained an interview,
with him, and remained among his attendants, in the capacity of maid
to the king's principal queen. But because that Bodhisattva talked
with that woman, he lost his power, and could not procure fruits and
roots and things of that kind. Then, being exhausted with hunger and
thirst, he first thought of the lion. And, when he thought of him,
he came and fed him with the flesh of deer, [137] and in a short time
he restored him to his former health with their flesh; and then the
lion said, "My curse is at an end, I will depart." When he had said
this, the Bodhisattva gave him leave to depart, and the lion became
a Vidyádhara and went to his own place.
Then that incarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva, being again
exhausted by want of food, thought upon that golden-crested bird,
and he came, when thought of by him. And when he told the bird of
his sufferings, the bird went and brought a casket full of jewels
[138] and gave it him, and said, "This wealth will support you for
ever, and so my curse has come to an end, now I depart; may you enjoy
happiness!" When he had said this, he became a young Vidyádhara prince,
and went through the air to his own world, and received the kingdom
from his father. And the Bodhisattva, as he was wandering about to
sell the jewels, reached that city, where the woman was living whom
he had rescued from the well. And he deposited those jewels in an
out-of-the-way house belonging to an old Bráhman woman, and went to the
market, and on the way he saw coming towards him the very woman whom
he had saved from the well, and the woman saw him. And the two fell
into a conversation, and in the course of it the woman told him of her
position about the person of the queen. And she asked him about his own
adventures: so the confiding man told her how the golden-crested bird
had given him the jewels. And he took her and shewed her the jewels
in the house of the old woman, and the wicked woman went and told her
mistress the queen of it. Now it happened that the golden-crested bird
had managed artfully to steal this casket of jewels from the interior
of the queen's palace, before her eyes. And when the queen heard