The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
hollow of it was black with thick darkness, she was afraid to go into
it, so she climbed up a banyan-tree near it. There she remained hidden
by the leaves, watching for the arrival of her treacherous friend,
for she did not see through her villainy, being herself of a guileless
nature. [196]
In the palace meanwhile, the auspicious moment having arrived, the
king brought Kanakamanjarí, who was dressed as Hansávalí, and placed
her on the sacrificial platform, and Kamalákara married that fair-hued
maid, and on account of its being night nobody detected her. And the
moment the marriage was over, the prince set out for his own camp
at full speed by that same western gate of the city, in order to
gain the benefit of propitious constellations, and he took with him
the supposed Hansávalí, together with Asokakarí, who was personating
Kanakamanjarí. And as he went along, he came near that Salmali-tree,
in the banyan-tree near which was concealed Hansávalí, who had been so
cruelly deceived. And when he arrived there, the supposed Hansávalí,
who was on the back of the elephant, which the king had mounted,
embraced him, as if she were terrified. And he asked her eagerly the
reason of that terror, whereupon she artfully replied with gushing
tears; "My husband, I remember that, last night, in a dream, a woman
like a Rákshasí rushed out from this tree, and seized me to eat
me. Then a certain Bráhman ran forward and delivered me, and after
he had consoled me, he said, 'My daughter, you should have this tree
burnt, and if this woman should come out of it, she must be thrown
back into it. So all will turn out well.' When the Bráhman had said
this, he disappeared. And I woke up. Now that I have seen this tree
I remember it. That is why I am frightened." When she said this,
Kamalákara immediately ordered his servants to burn the tree and
the woman too. So they burned the tree; and the pretended Hansávalí
thought that her mistress was burned in it, as she did not come out
of it. Then she was satisfied, and Kamalákara returned with her to
the camp, thinking that he had got the real Hansávalí. And the next
morning he returned rapidly from that place to his city of Kosala,
and he was anointed king by his father, who was pleased at his
success. And after his father had gone to the forest, he ruled the
earth, having for his wife Kanakamanjarí the pretended Hansávalí. But
the bard Manorathasiddhi kept at a distance from the palace, because
he feared for his own safety in case she were to find out who he was.
But when Hansávalí, who remained that night in the banyan-tree,
heard and saw all that, she perceived that she had been tricked. And
she said to herself, as soon as Kamalákara had departed; "Alas! my
wicked confidante has robbed me of my lover by treachery. Alas! she
even desires to have me burned in order to ensure her own peace of
mind. But to whom is reliance upon treacherous people not a source
of calamity? So I will throw my unlucky self into the glowing
ashes of the Salmali-tree, that was burnt for me, and so pay my
debt to the tree." After these reflections she descended from the
tree, determined to destroy herself, but as fate would have it,
she returned to her sober reason, and thought thus within herself;
"Why should I destroy myself without reason? If I live, I shall soon be
revenged on that betrayer of her friend. For when my father was seized
with that fever, Vishnu appeared to him in a dream, and after saying
that he was to be healed by the touch of my hand, said this to him,
'Hansávalí shall obtain Kamalákara, who will be a suitable husband
for her, but she shall endure calamity for a short time.' So I will
go somewhere and wait a little." When she had formed this resolution,
she set out for an uninhabited forest.
And after she had gone a long distance, and was weary, and her
steps began to falter, the night disappeared, as if out of pity,
in order to let her see her way. And the heaven being, as it were,
moved with compassion at beholding her, let fall a flood of tears in
the form of drops of dew. And the sun, the friend of the virtuous,
rose up so as to comfort her, by revealing to her both hopes and the
face of the country, and stretched out the fingers of his rays to
wipe away her tears. Then the princess, being a little consoled, went
on slowly by by-paths, avoiding the sight of men; and wounded by the
spikes of kusa grass, she at last reached with difficulty a certain
forest, full of birds which seemed to be singing, "Come here, come
here!" She entered the wood fatigued, and was, as it were, courteously
fanned by the trees with their creepers waving in the wind. So she,
full of longing for her beloved, beheld that wood in all the pomp of
spring, where the cuckoos cooed sweetly on fragrant mango-trees in
full blossom. And in her despondency she said to herself; "Although
this breeze from the Malaya mountain, red with the pollen of flowers,
scorches me like a fire, and these showers of flowers falling from
the trees, while the bees hum, strike me like showers of the arrows
of Love, still I will remain here worshipping with these flowers the
husband of Ramá, [197] and by so doing purge away my sin." Having
formed this resolution, she remained bathing in tanks and living on
fruit, devoted to the worship of Vishnu, in order to gain Kamalákara.
In the meanwhile it happened that Kamalákara was seized with a chronic
quartan fever. Then the wicked Kanakamanjarí, who personated Hansávalí,
was terrified, and thought thus in her heart, "I have always one
fear in my heart, lest Asokakarí should reveal my secret, and now a
second has come on the top of it. For the father of Hansávalí said
to my husband, in the presence of a large number of persons, that
the touch of his daughter's hand removed fever; and as soon as in his
present attack he shall call that to mind, I shall be exposed, as not
having that power, and ruined. So I will perform on his behalf with
all due rites an incantation for obtaining control over an imp of the
fever-demon, who has the power of removing fever, and who was mentioned
to me long ago by a certain witch. And I will by a stratagem kill this
Asokakarí, in front of the imp, in order that the offering to him may
be made with human flesh, and so he may be enlisted in my service and
bring about the desired result. So the king's fever will be cured and
Asokakarí removed at the same time, and both my fears will be ended;
I do not see any chance of a prosperous issue in any other way."
Having formed this resolution, she told Asokakarí all the harmless
points of her plan, taking care to omit the necessity of slaying
a human being. Then Asokakarí consented, and brought the necessary
utensils, and Kanakamanjarí by an artifice dismissed her attendants,
and, accompanied by Asokakarí only, went out from the women's
apartments secretly at night by a postern-door, and sword in hand,
[198] made for a deserted temple of Siva in which there was one
linga. There she killed with the sword a goat, and anointed the
linga with its blood, and made an offering to it of its flesh,
and threw the animal's entrails round it by way of a garland, and
honoured it by placing on its summit the goat's lotus-like heart,
and fumigated it with the smoke of its eyes, and lastly presented to
it the animal's head by way of oblation. Then she smeared the front
of the sacrificial platform with blood and sandalwood, and painted on
it with yellow paint a lotus, having eight leaves, and on its pericarp
she traced with crushed mango a representation of the demon of fever,
with three feet and three mouths, and with a handful of ashes by way of
weapon; and she represented on the leaves the fever's attendant imps in
proper form, and summoned them with a spell which she knew. [199] And
then she wished to make an offering to them, preparatory to bathing,
with human flesh, as I said before, so she said to Asokakarí, "Now,
my friend, prostrate yourself flat on the earth before the god, for
thus you will obtain prosperous fortune." Then she consented, and
flung herself flat on the earth, and the wicked Kanakamanjarí gave
her a cut with the sword. As it happened, the sword only wounded her
slightly on the shoulder, and she rose up terrified, and ran away,
and seeing Kanakamanjarí pursuing her, she exclaimed again and again,
"Help, help!" And thereupon some policemen, who happened to be near,
ran to her assistance. When they saw Kanakamanjarí pursuing her, sword
in hand, with a ferocious expression of countenance, they thought she
was a Rákshasí, and slashed her with their swords till she was almost
dead. But when they heard from the lips of Asokakarí the real state
of the case, they took both the women to the king's court, with the
governor of the town at their head. When king Kamalákara heard their
story, he had that wicked wife and her confidante brought into his
presence. And when they were brought, what with fear and the severe
pain of her wounds, Kanakamanjarí died on the spot.
Then the king, in great despondency, said to Asokakarí, who was
wounded, "What is the meaning of this? Tell me without fear." Then
Asokakarí related from the very beginning the history of the daring
treachery accomplished by Kanakamanjarí. Then king Kamalákara,
having found out the truth, thus bewailed his lot on that occasion,
"Alas! I have been deceived by this supposed Hansávalí into burning
the real Hansávalí with my own hand, fool that I was! Well! this
wicked woman has met the just reward of her actions, in that, after
becoming the wife of a king, she has been thus put to death. But
how came I to permit cruel Destiny to deceive me with mere outward
appearances, like a child, and so to rob me by taking away my jewel
and giving me glass instead. Moreover, I did not remember that touch
of the hand of Hansávalí, of which Vishnu spoke to her father, which
has given evidence of its power to remove fever." While Kamalákara
was thus lamenting, he suddenly recollected the words of Vishnu and
said to himself, "Her father Meghamálin told me that Vishnu said that
she should obtain a husband, but that she should suffer some little
affliction, and that word of the god, made known to men, will not
have been spoken in vain. So it is quite possible that she may have
gone somewhere else, and be still alive, for who knows the mysterious
ways of a woman's heart, any more than those of destiny? So in this
matter the bard Manorathasiddhi must once more be my refuge."
Thus reflecting, the king sent for that excellent bard, and said
to him, "How is it, my good friend, that you are never seen in the
palace?" But how can those obtain their wishes, who are deceived by
rogues? When the bard heard that, he said, "My excuse is that this
Asokakarí was well nigh slain, out of fear that she would reveal the
secret. But you must not be despondent about Hansávalí, for Vishnu
revealed that she would suffer calamity for a short time. And he
certainly protects her, because she is ever intent on worshipping him;
for virtue prevails; has it not been seen in the present instance? So
I will go, king, to obtain tidings of her." When the bard said this
to the king, he answered him, "I myself will go in search of her with
you. For otherwise my mind cannot be at rest even for a moment."
When the king had said this, he resolved on the course to be taken,
and next day he entrusted his kingdom to the care of his minister
Prajnádhya. And though the minister did all he could to dissuade
him, the king left the town unobserved with Manorathasiddhi. And he
went round to many holy places, hermitages, and forests in search of
her, disregarding physical suffering, for weighty is the command of
Love. And it happened that he and Manorathasiddhi at last reached the