The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
and not to be subdued by thee. And in proof of this, hear his whole
history, which I now proceed to relate to thee."
Story of king Chandamahásena.
There is in this land a city named Ujjayiní, the ornament of the earth,
that, so to speak, laughs to scorn with its palaces of enamelled
whiteness [151] Amarávatí, the city of the gods. In that city dwells
Siva himself, the lord of existence, under the form of Mahákála,
[152] when he desists from the kingly vice of absenting himself
on the heights of mount Kailása. In that city lived a king named
Mahendravarman, best of monarchs, and he had a son like himself,
named Jayasena. Then to that Jayasena was born a son named Mahásena,
matchless in strength of arm, an elephant among monarchs. And that
king, while cherishing his realm, reflected, "I have not a sword worthy
of me, [153] nor a wife of good family." Thus reflecting that monarch
went to the temple of Durgá, and there he remained without food,
propitiating for a long time the goddess. Then he cut off pieces of
his own flesh, and offered a burnt-offering with them, whereupon the
goddess Durgá being pleased appeared in visible shape and said to
him, "I am pleased with thee, receive from me this excellent sword,
by means of its magic power thou shalt be invincible to all thy
enemies. Moreover thou shalt soon obtain as a wife Angáravatí, the
daughter of the Asura Angáraka, the most beautiful maiden in the three
worlds. And since thou didst here perform this very cruel penance,
therefore thy name shall be Chandamahásena." Having said this and
given him the sword, the goddess disappeared. But in the king there
appeared joy at the fulfilment of his desire. He now possessed, O king,
two jewels, his sword and a furious elephant named Nadágiri, which
were to him what the thunderbolt and Airávana are to Indra. Then that
king, delighting in the power of these two, one day went to a great
forest to hunt; and there he beheld an enormous and terrible wild
boar; like the darkness of the night suddenly condensed into a solid
mass in the day time. That boar was not wounded by the king's arrows,
in spite of their sharpness, but after breaking the king's chariot
[154] fled and entered a cavern. The king, leaving that car of his,
in revengeful pursuit of the boar, entered into that cavern with only
his bow to aid him. And after he had gone a long distance, he beheld a
great and splendid capital, and astonished he sat down inside the city
on the bank of a lake. While there, he beheld a maiden moving along,
surrounded by hundreds of women, like the arrow of love that cleaves
the armour of self-restraint. She slowly approached the king, bathing
him, so to speak, again and again in a look, that rained in showers
the nectar of love. [155] She said, "who art thou, illustrious sir, and
for what reason hast thou entered our home on this occasion?" The king,
being thus questioned by her, told her the whole truth; hearing which,
she let fall from her eyes a passionate flood of tears, and from her
heart all self-control. The king said, "Who art thou, and why dost
thou weep?" When he asked her this question, she, being a prisoner
to love at his will, answered him, "The boar that entered here is the
Daitya Angáraka by name. And I am his daughter, O king, and my name is
Angáravatí. And he is of adamantine frame, and has carried off these
hundred princesses from the palaces of kings and appointed them to
attend on me. Moreover this great Asura has become a Rákshasa owing
to a curse, but to-day as he was exhausted with thirst and fatigue,
even when he found you, he spared you. At present he has put off the
form of a boar and is resting in his own proper shape, but when he
wakes up from his sleep, he will without fail do you an injury. It
is for this reason that I see no hope of a happy issue for you, and
so these tear-drops fall from my eyes like my vital spirits boiled
with the fire of grief." When he heard this speech of Angáravatí's the
king said to her,--"If you love me, do this which I ask you. When your
father awakes, go and weep in front of him, and then he will certainly
ask you the cause of your agitation; then you must say--If some one
were to slay thee, what would become of me? [156] This is the cause of
my grief. If you do this, there will be a happy issue both for you and
me." When the king said this to her, she promised him that she would
do what he wished. And that Asura maiden, apprehending misfortune,
placed the king in concealment, and went near her sleeping father. Then
the Daitya woke up, and she began to weep. And then he said to her,
"Why do you weep, my daughter?" She with affected grief said to him,
"If some one were to slay thee, what would become of me?" Then he
burst out laughing and said;--"Who could possibly slay me, my daughter,
for I am cased in adamant all over, only in my left hand is there an
unguarded place, but that is protected by the bow." In these words the
Daitya consoled his daughter, and all this was heard by the king in
his concealment. Immediately afterwards the Dánava rose up and took
his bath, and proceeded in devout silence to worship the god Siva;
at that moment the king appeared with his bow bent, and rushing up
impetuously towards the Daitya, challenged him to fight. He, without
interrupting his devout silence, lifted his left hand towards the king
and made a sign that he must wait for a moment. The king for his part,
being very quick of hand, immediately smote him with an arrow in that
hand which was his vital part. And that great Asura Angáraka, being
pierced in a vital spot, immediately uttered a terrible cry and fell
on the ground, and exclaimed, as his life departed,--"If that man,
who has slain me when thirsty, does not offer water to my manes every
year, then his five ministers shall perish." After he had said this,
that Daitya died, and the king, taking his daughter Angáravatí as a
prize, returned to Ujjayiní. There the king Chandamahásena married that
Daitya maiden, and two sons were born to him, the first named Gopálaka,
and the second Pálaka; and when they were born, he held a feast in
honour of Indra on their account. Then Indra, being pleased, said
to that king in a dream, "By my favour thou shalt obtain a matchless
daughter." Then in course of time a graceful daughter was born to that
king, like a second and more wonderful shape of the moon made by the
Creator. And on that occasion a voice was heard from heaven;--"She
shall give birth to a son, who shall be a very incarnation of the
god of love, and king of the Vidyádharas." Then the king gave that
daughter the name of Vásavadattá, because she was given by Indra being
pleased with him. And that maiden still remains unmarried in the house
of her father, like the goddess of prosperity in the hollow cavity
of the ocean before it was churned. That king Chandamahásena cannot
indeed be conquered by you, O king, in the first place because he is
so powerful, and in the next place because his realm is situated in
a difficult country. Moreover he is ever longing to give you that
daughter of his in marriage, but being a proud monarch, he desires
the triumph of himself and his adherents. But, I think, you must
certainly marry that Vásavadattá. When he heard this, that king of
Vatsa immediately lost his heart to Vásavadattá.
CHAPTER XII.
In the meanwhile the ambassador, sent by the king of Vatsa in
answer to Chandamahásena's embassy, went and told that monarch his
master's reply. Chandamahásena for his part, on hearing it, began to
reflect--"It is certain that that proud king of Vatsa will not come
here. And I cannot send my daughter to his court, such conduct would
be unbecoming; so I must capture him by some stratagem and bring him
here as a prisoner." Having thus reflected and deliberated with his
ministers, the king had made a large artificial elephant like his own,
and, after filling it with concealed warriors, he placed it in the
Vindhya forest. There the scouts kept in his pay by the king of Vatsa,
who was passionately fond of the sport of elephant-catching, discerned
it from a distance; [157] and they came with speed and informed the
king of Vatsa in these words: "O king, we have seen a single elephant
roaming in the Vindhya forest, such that nowhere else in this wide
world is his equal to be found, filling the sky with his stature,
like a moving peak of the Vindhya range."
Then the king rejoiced on hearing this report from the scouts, and
he gave them a hundred thousand gold pieces by way of reward. The
king spent that night in thinking; "If I obtain that mighty elephant,
a fit match for Nadágiri, then that Chandamahásena will certainly be
in my power, and then he will of his own accord give me his daughter
Vásavadattá." So in the morning he started for the Vindhya forest,
making these scouts shew him the way, disregarding, in his ardent
desire to capture the elephant, the advice of his ministers. He did
not pay any attention to the fact, that the astrologers said, that
the position of the heavenly bodies at the moment of his departure
portended the acquisition of a maiden together with imprisonment. When
the king of Vatsa reached the Vindhya forest, he made his troops halt
at a distance through fear of alarming that elephant, and accompanied
by the scouts only, holding in his hand his melodious lute, he entered
that great forest boundless as his own kingly vice. The king saw on
the southern slope of the Vindhya range that elephant looking like a
real one, pointed out to him by his scouts from a distance. He slowly
approached it, alone, playing on his lute, thinking how he should bind
it, and singing in melodious tones. As his mind was fixed on his music,
and the shades of evening were setting in, that king did not perceive
that the supposed wild elephant was an artificial one. The elephant
too for its part, lifting up its ears and flapping them, as if through
delight in the music, kept advancing and then retiring, and so drew
the king to a great distance. And then, suddenly issuing from that
artificial elephant, a body of soldiers in full armour surrounded
that king of Vatsa. When he beheld them, the king in a rage drew his
hunting knife, but while he was fighting with those in front of him,
he was seized by others coming up behind. And those warriors with the
help of others, who appeared at a concerted signal, carried that king
of Vatsa into the presence of Chandamahásena. Chandamahásena for his
part came out to meet him with the utmost respect, and entered with
him the city of Ujjayiní. Then the newly arrived king of Vatsa was
beheld by the citizens, like the moon, pleasing to the eyes, though
spotted with humiliation. Then all the citizens, suspecting that
he was to be put to death, through regard for his virtues assembled
and determined to commit suicide. [158] Then the king Chandamahásena
put a stop to the agitation of the citizens, by informing them that
he did not intend to put the monarch of Vatsa to death, but to win
him over. So the king made over his daughter Vásavadattá on the spot
to the king of Vatsa, to be taught music, and said to him--"Prince,
teach this lady music; in this way you will obtain a happy issue to
your adventure, do not despond." But when he beheld that fair lady,
the mind of the king of Vatsa was so steeped in love that he put out of
sight his anger: and her heart and mind turned towards him together;
her eye was then averted through modesty, but her mind not at all. So
the king of Vatsa dwelt in the concert-room of Chandamahásena's palace,
teaching Vásavadattá to sing, with his eyes ever fixed on her. In
his lap was his lute, in his throat the quarter-tone of vocal music,
and in front of him stood Vásavadattá delighting his heart. And that