The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
who was in a private house kept always locked, took a stone one
day and struck herself on the head, and remained in the courtyard
in front of her own house, streaming with blood, and lamenting with
loud cries. Then I and all my relations came in, hearing the cries,
and when we saw her, we said, "Tell us, what is the matter?" When
we asked her this question, she said spitefully, "My daughter-in-law
came without any reason and reduced me to this state; so now my only
remedy is death." When my relations heard this, they were furious, and
they took her and me with them to the house where I kept the wooden
doll. They removed the fastening, and opened the door, and went in,
and lo! they saw nothing there but a wooden doll. Then they laughed
at my mother, who was covered with shame, having imposed on no one
but herself, and they began to repose confidence in what I had said,
and so they went away again.
And I left that country, and travelled about till I came to this
region, and here I happened to enter a gambling-hall. And there I
saw these five men playing, this man named Chandabhujanga, and that
Pásupata, and this Smasánavetála, and that Kálavarátaka, and this
Sáriprastara, heroes equal in valour. And I gambled with them on this
mutual understanding, that whoever was conquered should be the slave
of the conqueror. Then they became my slaves by being beaten by me
in gambling, but I have become their slave by being won over by their
good qualities. And dwelling with them I have forgotten my woes.
So know that here I bear the name of Akshakshapana, [261] a name
suited to my condition. Here I have lived with these excellent men of
good family, who conceal their real position, and now you have joined
us. So now you are our chief, and it was with this view that we took
that money of yours originally, being charmed with your virtues.
When Akshakshapana had told his story in these words, all the others in
succession also told their adventures. And prince Bhímabhata perceived
that his friends were heroes, who had disguised their real character
by taking up gambling practices for the sake of gaining wealth, so he
had much more pleasant chat with them, and spent the day in amusement,
and then seeing that the eastern quarter had adorned its face with the
rising moon, as with an ornamental patch, he went from that garden
with Akshakshapanaka and the other six to their dwelling. And while
he was there with them, the rainy season arrived, seeming to announce
with the roarings of its joyous clouds his recovery of his friend. And
then the impetuous river there, named Vipásá, that flowed into the sea,
was filled with an influx of sea-water and began to flow backwards,
and it deluged that shore with a great inundation, and then owing
to the cessation of that influx, [262] it seemed to flow on again to
the sea. Now at that time the sudden influx of sea-water brought in
a great fish, and on account of its unwieldy size it was stranded
on the bank of the river. And the inhabitants, when they saw the
fish stranded, ran forward with all kinds of weapons to kill it,
and ripped open its stomach. And when its stomach was cut open, there
came out of it alive a young Bráhman; and the people, astonished at
that strange sight, raised a shout. [263] When Bhímabhata heard that,
he went there with his friends, and saw his friend Sankhadatta, who
had just issued from the inside of the fish. So he ran and embraced
him, and bedewed him with copious tears, as if he wished to wash off
the evil smell he had contracted by living in the gulf of the fish's
maw. [264] Sankhadatta, for his part, having escaped that calamity,
and having found and embraced his friend, went from joy to joy. Then
being questioned out of curiosity by Bhímabhata, he gave this brief
account of his adventures.
"On that occasion, when I was swept out of your sight by the force
of the waves of the Ganges, I was suddenly swallowed by a very large
fish. Then I remained for a long time inside the capacious habitation
of his stomach, eating in my hunger his flesh, which I cut off with
a knife. To-day Providence somehow or other brought this fish here,
and threw it up upon the bank, so that it was killed by these men and
I was taken out of its stomach. I have seen again you and the light
of the sun, the horizon has been once more illuminated for me. This,
my friend, is the story of my adventures, I know no more than this."
When Sankhadatta said this, Bhímabhata and all that were present
exclaimed in astonishment, "To think that he should have been swallowed
in the Ganges by a fish, and that that fish should have got into the
sea, and then that from the sea it should have been brought into the
Vipásá, and that it should have been killed, and then that Sankhadatta
should have come out of it alive. Ah! the way of fate is inscrutable,
and wonderful are its works!" While uttering such remarks with
Akshakshapanaka and the others, Bhímabhata took Sankhadatta to his
own dwelling. And there in high delight he entertained with a bath,
clothes, and other needful things, his friend, who had, as it were,
been born a second time with the same body from the belly of a fish.
And while Bhímabhata was living with him in that country, there
came on there a festive procession in honour of Vásuki the king of
the snakes. In order to see it, the prince went, surrounded with his
friends, to the temple of that chief of the snakes, where great crowds
were assembling. He worshipped there in the temple, where his idol was,
which was full of long wreaths [265] of flowers in form like serpents,
and which therefore resembled the abyss of Pátála, and then going
in a southerly direction, he beheld a great lake sacred to Vásuki,
studded with red lotuses, resembling the concentrated gleams of
the brilliance of the jewels on snakes' crests; [266] and encircled
with blue lotuses, which seemed like clouds of smoke from the fire
of snake-poison; overhung with trees, that seemed to be worshipping
with their flowers blown down by the wind. When he saw it, he said to
himself in astonishment, "Compared with this expanded lake, that sea
from which Vishnu carried off the goddess of Fortune, seems to me to
be only worthy of neglect, for its fortune of beauty is not to be taken
from it by anything else." [267] In the meanwhile he saw a maiden, who
had come there to bathe, by name Hansávalí, the beautiful daughter of
Chandráditya, king of Láta, by Kuvalayavatí; her mortal nature, which
was concealed by all her other members moulded like those of gods,
was revealed by the winking of her rolling eye. She had ten million
perfections darting forth from her flower-soft body, she was with her
waist, that might be spanned with the hand, a very bow of Cupid, and
the moment she looked at Bhímabhata, she pierced him in the heart with
the sidelong arrows of her eyes, and bewildered him. [268] He too,
who was a thief of the world's beauty, entered by the oblique path
of her eyes the treasure-chamber of her heart, and robbed her of her
self-control. Then she sent secretly a trustworthy and discreet maid,
and enquired from his friends his name and residence. And after she had
bathed, she was taken back to her palace by her attendants, frequently
turning round her face to fix her eyes on him. And then Bhímabhata,
accompanied by his friends, went to his dwelling, with faltering steps,
for he was entangled with the net which his beloved had cast over him.
And immediately the princess Hansávalí sent that maid to him as an
ambassadress of love, with the message for which he longed. The maid
came up to him and said to him in secret, "Prince, the princess
Hansávalí solicits you thus, 'When you see me, who love you,
being carried away by the stream of love, you should rescue me
quickly, you should not remain indifferent upon the bank [269]'"
When Bhímabhata heard from the messenger the nectar of his beloved's
message, he was delighted at having his life saved, and said to her,
"I am in the current, I am not upon the bank; does not my beloved
know that? But now, that I have obtained some hope to cling to,
[270] I will gladly do her bidding. I will this night come and wait
upon her in her private apartments, and no one shall see me, for I
will enter concealed by a charm." When he said this to the maid,
she was pleased, and went and told it to Hansávalí, and then she
remained anxiously expecting an interview with him.
And he, in the early part of the night, went adorned with heavenly
ornaments, and making himself invisible by repeating forwards the charm
bestowed on him by Gangá, entered her splendid chamber which she had
previously cleared of attendants. In that chamber, which suggested
thoughts of love, which was perfumed with aloes, and adorned with
nose-gays of flowers of five hues [271] arranged there, and which
therefore resembled the garden of the god of love, he beheld that
lovely one exhaling heavenly fragrance, like a blossom put forth by
the creeper of the wonderful charm bestowed by Gangá. And then the
handsome prince recited the charm backwards, and immediately became
visible to that princess. When he beheld her timidly trembling with
a joyful agitation that made her hair stand on end, his ornaments
immediately tinkled like musical instruments, and he seemed to be
dancing with joy to their music. And the maiden hid her face with the
shame of love, and seemed to be asking her heart, that caused all that
display of emotion, what she was to do now. Then Bhímabhata said to
her, "Fair one, why do you allow your heart to exhibit shame, though
its feelings have been already revealed? It does not deny the state of
affairs; besides how is it possible to conceal this trembling of the
limbs and this bursting boddice?" Then Bhímabhata with such words,
and other loving persuasions, made the fair one forget her modesty,
and married her by the Gándharva form of marriage. And after he had
spent that night with her, in sporting like a bee round the lotus
of her mouth, he at last tore himself away, and saying, "I will come
again at night," returned to his house.
And when the chamberlains belonging to Hansávalí entered her chamber
the next morning, they saw that her lover had been with her. The
ends of her curls were disordered, she had marks of moist teeth and
nails, and she seemed as if the god of Love had appeared in person and
afflicted her with the wounds of all his arrows. They immediately went
and reported the matter to the king, and he secretly appointed spies to
watch at night. And Bhímabhata spent the day with his friends in their
usual employments, and in the beginning of the night again repaired
to the bower of his beloved. When the spies saw that he had entered
without being seen, by virtue of his charm, and discovered that he
possessed supernatural powers, they went out, and told the king, and
he gave them this order, "The being, who has entered a well-guarded
room without being seen, cannot be a mere man; so bring him here
that I may see what this means. And say to him politely from me,
'Why did you not openly ask me for my daughter? Why did you make
a secret of it? For it is difficult to obtain a bridegroom for my
daughter as accomplished as yourself.'" When the king had sent off
the spies with this message, they went as he commanded, and stood at
the door and delivered this message to Bhímabhata. And the resolute
prince, perceiving that the king had discovered him, answered them
boldly from inside; "Tell the king from me, that to-morrow I will
enter his hall of audience, and tell him the truth, for now it is
the dead of night." They then went and gave this message to the king
and he remained silent. And in the morning Bhímabhata went to rejoin
his friends. And putting on a magnificent costume, he went with those