The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
to terrify him a formidable shape. When he saw this, that hermit laid
on me a curse suitable to my offence, exclaiming--'Wicked one, become
a Rákshasí and slay men.' And he appointed that my curse should end
when you took hold of my hair; accordingly I assumed this detestable
condition of a Rákshasí, and I have devoured all the inhabitants of
this town: now to-day after a long time you have brought my curse to
an end in the manner foretold; therefore receive now some boon." When
he heard that speech of hers, Srídatta said respectfully, "Mother
grant that my friend may be restored to life. What need have I of
any other boon?" "So be it," said she, and after granting the boon
disappeared. And Nishthuraka rose up again alive without a scratch on
his body. Then Srídatta set out the next morning with him, delighted
and astonished, and at last reached Ujjayiní. There he revived by his
appearance the spirits of his friends, who were anxiously expecting
him, as the arrival of the cloud revives the peacocks. And after he
had told all the wonders of his adventures, Báhusálin went through the
usual formalities of hospitality, taking him to his own home. There
Srídatta was taken care of by the parents of Báhusálin, and lived
with his friends as comfortably as if he were in his own house.
Once on a time, when the great feast of spring-tide [131] had arrived,
he went with his friends to behold some festal rejoicings in a
garden. There he beheld a maiden, the daughter of king Bimbaki, who
had come to see the show, looking like the goddess of the Splendour
of Spring present in bodily form. She, by name Mrigánkavatí, that
moment penetrated into his heart, as if through the openings left
by the expansion of his eye. Her passionate look too, indicative
of the beginning of love, fixed on him, went and returned like a
confidante. When she entered a thicket of trees, Srídatta not beholding
her, suddenly felt his heart so empty that he did not know where he
was. His friend Báhusálin, who thoroughly understood the language of
gestures, said to him, "My friend, I know your heart, do not deny your
passion, therefore, come, let us go to that part of the garden where
the king's daughter is." He consented and went near her accompanied
by his friend. That moment a cry was heard there, which gave great
pain to the heart of Srídatta, "Alas the princess has been bitten by
a snake!" Báhusálin then went and said to the chamberlain--"My friend
here possesses a ring that counteracts the effects of poison, and
also healing spells." Immediately the chamberlain came, and bowing at
his feet, quickly led Srídatta to the princess. He placed the ring on
her finger, and then muttered his spells so that she revived. Then all
the attendants were delighted, and loud in praise of Srídatta, and the
king Bimbaki hearing the circumstances came to the place. Accordingly
Srídatta returned with his friends to the house of Báhusálin without
taking back the ring. And all the gold and other presents, which
the delighted king sent to him there, he handed over to the father
of Báhusálin. Then, thinking upon that fair one, he was so much
afflicted, that his friends became utterly bewildered as to what to
do with him. Then a dear friend of the princess, Bhávaniká, by name,
came to him on pretence of returning the ring; and said to him, "That
friend of mine, illustrious Sir, has made up her mind, that either you
must save her life by becoming her husband, or she will be married to
her grave." When Bhávaniká had said this, Srídatta and Báhusálin and
the others quickly put their heads together and came to the following
resolution, "We will carry off this princess secretly by a stratagem,
and will go unperceived from here to Mathurá and live there." The
plan having been thoroughly talked over, and the conspirators having
agreed with one another what each was to do in order to carry it out,
Bhávaniká then departed. And the next day Báhusálin, accompanied by
three of his friends, went to Mathurá on pretext of trafficking,
and as he went he posted in concealment at intervals swift horses
for the conveyance of the princess. But Srídatta then brought at
eventide a woman with her daughter into the palace of the princess,
after making them both drink spirits, and then Bhávaniká, on pretence
of lighting up the palace, set fire to it, and secretly conveyed
the princess out of it; and that moment Srídatta, who was remaining
outside, received her, and sent her on to Báhusálin, who had started
in the morning, and directed two of his friends to attend on her and
also Bhávaniká. Now that drunken woman and her daughter were burnt in
the palace of the princess, and people supposed that the princess had
been burnt with her friend. But Srídatta took care to show himself
in the morning as before, in the city; then on the second night,
taking with him his sword Mrigánka, he started to follow his beloved,
who had set out before him. And in his eagerness he accomplished
a great distance that night, and when the morning watch [132] had
passed, he reached the Vindhya forest. There he first beheld unlucky
omens, and afterwards he saw all those friends of his together with
Bhávaniká lying in the road gashed with wounds. And when he came
up all distracted, they said to him, "We were robbed to-day by a
large troop of horsemen that set upon us. And after we were reduced
to this state, one of the horsemen threw the terrified princess on
his horse and carried her off. So before she has been carried to
a great distance, go in this direction, do not remain near us, she
is certainly of more importance than we." Being urged on with these
words by his friends, Srídatta rapidly followed after the princess,
but could not help frequently turning round to look at them. And
after he had gone a considerable distance, he caught up that troop
of cavalry, and he saw a young man of the warrior caste in the midst
of it. And he beheld that princess held by him upon his horse. So
he slowly approached that young warrior; and when soft words would
not induce him to let the princess go, he hurled him from his horse
with a blow of his foot, and dashed him to pieces on a rock. And
after he had slain him, he mounted on his horse and slew a great
number of the other horsemen who charged him in anger. And then those
who remained alive, seeing that the might which the hero displayed
was more than human, fled away in terror; and Srídatta mounted on
the horse with the princess Mrigánkavatí and set out to find those
friends of his. And after he had gone a little way, he and his wife
got off the horse which had been severely wounded in the fight, and
soon after it fell down and died. And then his beloved Mrigánkavatí,
exhausted with fear and exertion, became very thirsty. And leaving
her there, he roamed a long distance hither and thither, and while
he was looking for water the sun set. Then he discovered that, though
he had found water, he had lost his way, and he passed that night in
the wood roaming about, moaning aloud like a Chakraváka. [133] And
in the morning he reached that place, which was easy to recognise by
the carcass of the horse. And nowhere there did he behold his beloved
princess. Then in his distraction he placed his sword Mrigánka on the
ground, and climbed to the top of a tree, in order to cast his eye in
all directions for her. That very moment a certain Savara chieftain
passed that way; and he came up and took the sword from the foot of
the tree. Beholding that Savara chieftain, Srídatta came down from
the top of the tree, and in great grief asked him for news of his
beloved. The Savara chieftain said--"Leave this place and come to my
village; I have no doubt she whom you seek has gone there; and I shall
come there and return you this sword." When the Savara chieftain urged
him to go with these words, Srídatta, being himself all eagerness,
went to that village with the chief's men. And there those men said to
him,--"Sleep off your fatigue,"--and when he reached the house of the
chief of the village, being tired he went to sleep in an instant. And
when he woke up he saw his two feet fastened with fetters, like the
two efforts he had made in order to obtain his beloved, which failed
to reach their object. Then he remained there weeping for his darling,
who, like the course of destiny, had for a moment brought him joy,
and the next moment blasted his hopes.
One day a serving maid of the name of Mochaniká came to him and
said,--Illustrious Sir, unwittingly you have come hither to your
death? For the Savara chieftain has gone somewhither to accomplish
certain weighty affairs, and when he returns, he will offer you
to Chandiká. [134] For with that object he decoyed you here by a
stratagem from this slope of the wild Vindhya hill, and immediately
threw you into the chains in which you now are. And it is because
you are intended to be offered as a victim to the goddess, that you
are continually served with garments and food. But I know of only
one expedient for delivering you, if you agree to it. This Savara
chieftain has a daughter named Sundarí, and she having seen you is
becoming exceedingly love-sick; marry her who is my friend, then you
will obtain deliverance. [135] When she said this to him, Srídatta
consented, desiring to be set at liberty, and secretly made that
Sundarí his wife by the Gándharva form of marriage. And every night she
removed his chains and in a short time Sundarí became pregnant. Then
her mother, having heard the whole story from the mouth of Mochaniká,
out of love for her son-in-law Srídatta, went and of her own accord
said to him--"My son, Sríchanda the father of Sundarí is a wrathful
man, and will show thee no mercy. Therefore depart, but thou must not
forget Sundarí." When his mother-in-law had said this, she set him at
liberty, and Srídatta departed after telling Sundarí that the sword,
which was in her father's possession, really belonged to himself.
So he again entered full of anxiety that forest, in which he had before
wandered about, in order again to search for traces of Mrigávatí. And
having seen an auspicious omen he came to that same place, where that
horse of his died before, and whence his wife was carried off. And
there he saw near [136] him a hunter coming towards him, and when
he saw him he asked him for news of that gazelle-eyed lady. Then
the hunter asked him "Are you Srídatta?" and he sighing replied "I
am that unfortunate man." Then that hunter said, "Listen, friend, I
have somewhat to tell you. I saw that wife of yours wandering hither
and thither lamenting your absence, and having asked her her story,
and consoled her, moved with compassion I took her out of this wood
to my own village. But when I saw the young Pulindas [137] there,
I was afraid, and I took her to a village named Nágasthala near
Mathurá. [138] And then I placed her in the house of an old Bráhman
named Visvadatta commending her with all due respect to his care. And
thence I came here having learnt your name from her lips. Therefore
you had better go quickly to Nágasthala to search for her." When the
hunter had told him this, Srídatta quickly set out, and he reached
Nágasthala in the evening of the second day. Then he entered the house
of Visvadatta and when he saw him said, "Give me my wife who was placed
here by the hunter." Visvadatta when he heard that, answered him,
"I have a friend in Mathurá a Bráhman, dear to all virtuous men, the
spiritual preceptor and minister of the king Súrasena. In his care
I placed your wife. For this village is an out-of-the-way place and
would not afford her protection. So go to that city to-morrow morning,
but to-day rest here." When Visvadatta said this, he spent that night
there, and the next morning he set off, and reached Mathurá on the