The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
imitated the tricks of the women of Pátaliputra."
Story of the wife of king Sinháksha, and the wives of his principal
courtiers.
For in that city there is a king named Sinháksha: and his wife, taking
with her the wives of his minister, commander-in-chief, chaplain,
and physician, went once on the thirteenth day of the white fortnight
to make a pilgrimage to the shrine of Sarasvatí, the protecting deity
of that land. There they, queen and all, met on the way sick persons,
humpbacked, blind, and lame, and were thus implored by them, "Give
medicine to us wretched diseased men, in order that we may be delivered
from our infirmity; have mercy upon the distressed. For this world
is wavering as a wave of the sea, transient as a flash of lightning,
and its beauty is short-lived like that of a religious festival. So
in this unreal world the only real thing is mercy to the wretched,
and charity to the poor; it is only the virtuous person that can
be said truly to live. What is the use of giving to the rich or the
comfortable? [146] What does the cold moon profit a shivering man,
or what is the use of a cloud when winter has arrived? So rescue us
miserable creatures from the affliction of sickness."
When the queen and the other ladies had been thus supplicated by these
diseased persons, they said to one another; "These poor afflicted men
say what is true, and to the point, so we must endeavour to restore
them to health even at the cost of all our substance." Then they
worshipped the goddess, and each took one of those sick people to
her own house, and, urging on their husbands, they had them treated
with the potent drugs of Mahádeví, and they never left off watching
them. And from being always with them, they fell in love with them,
and became so attached to them that they thought of nothing else in
the world. And their minds, bewildered with love, never reflected what
a difference there was between these wretched sick men and their own
husbands, the king and his chief courtiers.
Then their husbands remarked that they had on them the marks of
scratches and bites, due to their surprising intimacy with these
invalids. And the king, the commander-in-chief, the minister, the
chaplain, and the physician talked of this to one another without
reserve, but not without anxiety. Then the king said to the others,
"You keep quiet at present; I will question my wife dexterously." So
he dismissed them, and went to his private apartments, and assuming an
expression of affectionate anxiety, he said to his wife, "Who bit you
on the lower lip? Who scratched you on the breast? If you tell me the
truth, it will be well with you, but not otherwise." When the queen was
thus questioned by the king, she told him a fictitious tale, saying,
"Ill-fated that I am, I must tell this wonder, though it ought not to
be revealed. Every night a man, with a discus and club, comes out of
the painted wall, and does this to me, and disappears into it in the
morning. And though you, my husband, are alive, he reduces to this
state my body, which not even the sun or moon has ever beheld." When
the foolish king heard this story of hers, told with much semblance
of grief, he believed it, and thought that it was all a trick played
by Vishnu. And he told it to the minister and his other servants,
and they, like blockheads, also believed that their wives had been
visited by Vishnu, and held their tongues.
"In this way wicked and cunning females, of bad character, by
concurring in one impossible story, deceive silly people, but I am
not such a fool as to be taken in." The Yaksha by saying this covered
his wife with confusion. And the mendicant at the foot of the tree
heard it all. Then the mendicant folded his hands, and said to that
Yaksha, "Reverend sir, I have arrived at your hermitage, and now
I throw myself on your protection. So pardon my sin in overhearing
what you have been saying." By thus speaking the truth he gained the
good will of the Yaksha. And the Yaksha said to him, "I am a Yaksha,
Sarvasthánagaváta by name, and I am pleased with you. So choose a
boon." Then the mendicant said to the Yaksha; "Let this be my boon that
you will not be angry with this wife of yours." Then the Yaksha said,
"I am exceedingly pleased with you. This boon is already granted,
so choose another." Then the mendicant said, "Then this is my second
petition, that from this day forward you and your wife will look
upon me as a son." When the Yaksha heard this, he immediately became
visible to him with his wife, and said, "I consent, my son, we regard
you as our own child. And owing to our favour you shall never suffer
calamity. And you shall be invincible in disputation, altercation,
and gambling." When the Yaksha had said this, he disappeared, and the
mendicant worshipped him, and after spending the night there, he went
on to Pátaliputra. Then he announced to king Sinháksha, by the mouth
of the doorkeeper, that he was a disputant come from Kasmíra. And
the king permitted him to enter the hall of assembly, and there he
tauntingly challenged the learned men to dispute with him. And after he
had conquered them all by virtue of the boon of the Yaksha, he again
taunted them in the presence of the king in these words: "I ask you
to explain this. What is the meaning of this statement, 'A man with a
discus and mace comes out of the painted wall, and bites my lower lip,
and scratches my chest, and then disappears in the wall again.' Give
me an answer." [147] When the learned men heard his riddle, as they
did not know the real reference, they gave no answer, but looked at
one another's faces. Then the king Sinháksha himself said to him,
"Explain to us yourself the meaning of what you said." Thereupon
the mendicant told the king of the deceitful behaviour of his wife,
which he had heard about from the Yaksha. And he said to the king,
"So a man should never become attached to women, which will only
result in his knowing wickedness." The king was delighted with the
mendicant, and wished to give him his kingdom. But the mendicant,
who was ardently attached to his own native land, would not take
it. Then the king honoured him with a rich present of jewels. The
mendicant took the jewels and returned to his native land of Kasmíra,
and there by the favour of the Yaksha he lived in great comfort.
When Gomukha had said this, he remarked, "So strange are these actions
of bad women, and the dispensations of Providence, and the conduct of
mankind. Now hear this story of another woman who killed eleven. [148]
Story of the woman who had eleven husbands.
There was in Málava a certain householder, who lived in a village. He
had born to him a daughter, who had two or three elder brothers. Now,
as soon as she was born her mother died, and a few days after one of
the man's sons died. And then his brother was gored by an ox and died
of it. So the householder named his daughter, "Three-slayer," because
owing to the birth of this ill-omened girl three had met their death.
In course of time she grew up, and then the son of a rich man, who
lived in that village, asked her in marriage, and her father gave
her to him with the usual rejoicings. She lived for some time with
that husband, but he soon died. In a few days the fickle woman took
another husband. And the second husband met his death in a short
time. Then, led astray by her youthful feelings, she took a third
husband. And the third husband of this husband-slayer died like the
others. In this way she lost ten husbands in succession. So she got
affixed to her by way of ridicule the name of "Ten-slayer." Then
her father was ashamed and would not let her take another husband,
and she remained in her father's house avoided by people. But one day
a handsome young traveller entered it, and was allowed by her father
to stop as his guest for a night. When Ten-slayer saw him, she fell
in love with him, and when he looked at that charming young woman,
he too was captivated. Then Love robbed her of her modesty, and she
said to her father, "I choose this traveller as one husband more;
if he dies I will then take a vow." She said this in the hearing of
the traveller, but her father answered her, "Do not think of such a
thing, it is too disgraceful; you have lost ten husbands, and if this
one dies too, people will laugh consumedly. When the traveller heard
this, he abandoned all reserve, and said, "No chance of my dying,
I have lost ten wives one after another. So we are on a par; I swear
that it is so by the touch of the feet of Siva." When the traveller
said this, every body was astonished. And the villagers assembled, and
with one consent gave permission to Ten-slayer to marry the traveller,
and she took him for her husband. And she lived some time with him,
but at last he was seized with an ague and died. Then she was called
"Eleven-slayer," and even the stones could not help laughing at her:
so she betook herself in despondency to the bank of the Ganges and
lived the life of an ascetic.
The story of the man, who, thanks to Durgá, had always one ox.
When Gomukha had told this amusing story, he went on to say--"Hear
also the story of the man who subsisted on one ox."
There was a certain poor householder in a certain village; and the
only wealth he had in his house was one ox. He was so mean-spirited
that, though his family was on the point of perishing for want of food,
and he himself had to fast, he could not make up his mind to part with
that ox. But he went to the shrine of Durgá in the Vindhya hills, and
throwing himself down on a bed of darbha-grass, he performed asceticism
without taking food, in order that he might obtain wealth. The goddess
said to him in a dream, "Rise up; your wealth shall always consist of
one ox, and by selling it you shall live in perpetual comfort." So
the next morning he woke, and got up, took some food, and returned
to his house. But even then he had not strength of mind to sell that
ox, for he thought that, if he sold it, he would have nothing left
in the world, and be unable to live. Then, as, thin with fasting,
he told his dream with reference to the command of the goddess, a
certain intelligent friend said to him, "The goddess told you that
you should always have one ox, and that you should live by selling it,
so why did you not, foolish man, obey the command of the goddess? So,
sell this ox, and support your family. When you have sold this one,
you will get another, and then another." The villager, on receiving
this suggestion from his friend, did so. And he received ox after ox,
and lived in perpetual comfort by selling them.
"So you see, Destiny produces fruit for every man according to his
resolution. So a man should be resolute; good fortune does not select
for favour a man wanting in resolution. Hear now this story of the
cunning rogue who passed himself off as a minister."
Story of the rogue who managed to acquire wealth by speaking to the
king. [149]
There was a certain king in a city in the Dekkan. In that city there
was a rogue who lived by imposing upon others. And one day he said
to himself, being too ambitious to be satisfied with small gains;
"Of what use to me is this petty rascality, which only provides me
with subsistence? Why should I not do a stroke of business which would
bring me great prosperity?" Having thus reflected, he dressed himself
splendidly as a merchant, and went to the palace-gate and accosted
the warder. And he introduced him into the king's presence, and he
offered a complimentary gift, and said to the king, "I wish to speak
with your Majesty in private." The king was imposed upon by his dress,
and much influenced in his favour by the present, so he granted him a
private interview, and then the rogue said to him, "Will your Majesty