The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
into a maiden to her own private apartments; and then Múladeva,
who had assumed the form of a Bráhman, went where he pleased, and
Manahsvámin remained in the form of a maiden with his beloved. [346]
And in a few days the princess became quite fond of and intimate
with her new attendant; so, one night when she was pining at being
separated from the object of her affections, and tossing on her couch,
Manahsvámin, who was on a bed near her, concealed under a female shape,
said secretly to her, "My dear Sa[s']iprabhá, why are you pale of hue,
and why do you grow thinner every day, and sorrow as one separated
from the side of her beloved? Tell me, for why should you distrust
loving modest attendants? From this time forth I will take no food
until you tell me."
When the princess heard this, she sighed, and slowly told the following
tale; "Why should I distrust you of all people? Listen, friend, I
will tell you the cause. Once on a time I went to a spring garden to
see a procession, and there I beheld a handsome young Bráhman, who
seemed like the month of spring, having the loveliness of the moon
free from dew, kindling love at sight, adorning the grove with play
of light. And while my eager eyes, drinking in the nectarous rays of
the moon of his countenance, began to emulate the partridge, there
came there a mighty elephant broken loose from its bonds, roaring
and distilling its ichor like rain, looking like a black rain-cloud
appearing out of season. My attendants dispersed terrified at that
elephant, but when I was bewildered with fear, that young Bráhman
caught me up in his arms and carried me to a distance. Then contact
with his body made me feel as if I were anointed with sandal-wood
ointment, and bedewed with ambrosia, and I was in a state which I
cannot describe. And in a moment my attendants re-assembled, and I was
brought back reluctant to this my palace, and seemed to myself to have
been cast down to earth from heaven. From that time forth I have often
interviews in reveries with my beloved, that rescued me from death,
and even when awake I seem to see him at my side. And when asleep I
see him in dreams, coaxing me and dispelling my reserve with kisses
and caresses. But, ill-fated wretch that I am, I cannot obtain him,
for I am baffled by ignorance of his name and other particulars about
him. So I am consumed, as you see, by the fire of separation from
the lord of my life."
When Manahsvámin's ears had been filled with the nectar of this
speech of the princess's, that Bráhman, who was present there in
female form, rejoiced, and considered that his object was attained,
and that the time had come for revealing himself, so he took out
the globule from his mouth, and displayed himself in his true form,
and said; "Rolling-eyed one, I am that very Bráhman, whom you bought
with a look in the garden, and made your slave in the truest sense of
the word. And from the immediate interruption of our acquaintance I
derived that sorrow, of which the final result was my taking, as you
see, the form of a maiden. Therefore, fair one, grant that the sorrow
of separation, which both of us have endured, may not have been borne
in vain, for Cupid cannot endure beyond this point." When the princess
suddenly beheld her beloved in front of her, and heard him utter these
words, she was at once filled with love, astonishment, and shame. So
they eagerly went through the Gándharva ceremony of marriage. Then
Manahsvámin lived happily in the palace, under two shapes; keeping
the globule in his mouth during the day and so wearing a female shape,
but at night taking it out, and assuming the form of a man.
Now, as days went on, the brother-in-law of king Yasahketu, named
Mrigánkadatta, gave his own daughter, named Mrigánkavatí, in marriage
to a young Bráhman, the son of the minister Prajnáságara: and with
her he bestowed much wealth. And the princess Sasiprabhá was invited,
on the occasion of her cousin's marriage, to her uncle's house,
and went there accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting. And among them
went the young Bráhman, Manahsvámin, wearing the attractive form of
a young maiden of exquisite beauty.
Then that minister's son beheld him disguised in female form, and
was deeply pierced with the shafts of the archer Love. And when he
went to his house, accompanied by his bride, it seemed to him to be
empty; for he was robbed of his heart by that seeming maiden. Then
he continued to think of nothing but the beauty of that supposed
maiden's face, and bitten by the great snake of fierce passion, he
suddenly became distracted. The people, who were there, ceased from
their rejoicing, and in their bewilderment asked what it meant, and
his father Prajnáságara, hearing of it, came to him in haste. And
when his father tried to comfort him, he woke up from his stupor
and uttered what was in his mind, babbling deliriously. And that
father of his was very much troubled, as he thought that the matter
was one altogether beyond his power. Then the king heard of it,
and came there in person. And he at once saw that the minister's son
had been in a moment reduced by strong passion to the seventh [347]
stage of love-sickness; so he said to his ministers; "How can I give
him a maiden whom a Bráhman left in my care? And yet, if he does not
obtain her, he will without doubt reach the last stage. If he dies,
his father, who is my minister, will perish; and if he perishes,
my kingdom is ruined, so tell me what I am to do in this matter."
When the king said this, all those ministers said, "They say that
the special virtue of a king is the protection of the virtue of his
subjects. Now the root of this protection is counsel, and counsel
resides in counsellors. If the counsellor perishes, protection
perishes in its root, and virtue is certain to be impaired. [348]
Moreover guilt would be incurred by causing the death of this Bráhman
minister and his son, so you must avoid doing that, otherwise there
is a great chance of your infringing the law of virtue. Accordingly
you must certainly give to the minister's son the maiden committed to
your care by the first Bráhman, and if he returns after the lapse of
some time, and is angry, steps can then be taken to put matters right."
When the ministers said this to the king, he agreed to give that man,
who was palming himself off as a maiden, to the minister's son. And
after fixing an auspicious moment, he brought Manahsvámin, in female
form, from the palace of the princess; and he said to the king; "If,
king, you are determined to give me, whom another committed to your
care, to a person other than him for whom I was intended, I must,
I suppose, acquiesce; you are a king, and justice and injustice
are matters familiar to you. But I consent to the marriage on this
condition only, that I am not to be considered as a wife until my
husband has spent six months in visiting holy bathing-places, and
returns home; if this condition is not agreed to, know that I will
bite my own tongue in two, and so commit suicide."
When the young man, disguised in female form, had prescribed this
condition, the king informed the minister's son of it, and he was
consoled, and accepted the terms; and he quickly went through the
ceremony of marriage, and placed in one house Mrigánkavatí his
first wife, and his second supposed wife, carefully guarded, and,
like a fool, went on a pilgrimage to holy bathing-places, to please
the object of his affections.
And Manahsvámin, in female form, dwelt in the same house with
Mrigánkavatí, as the partner of her bed and board. And one night, while
he was living there in this way, Mrigánkavatí said to him secretly
in the bed-chamber, while their attendants were sleeping outside,
"My friend, I cannot sleep, tell me some tale." When the young man,
disguised in female form, heard this, he told her the story, how in
old time a royal sage, named Ida, of the race of the sun, assumed,
in consequence of the curse of Gaurí, a female form that fascinated
the whole world, and how he and Budha fell in love with one another
at first sight, meeting one another in a shrubbery in the grounds of
a temple, and were there united, and how Purúravas was the fruit of
that union. When the artful creature had told this story, he went on
to say, "So by the fiat of a deity or by charms and drugs, a man may
sometimes become a woman, and vice versâ, and in this way even great
ones do sometimes unite impelled by love."
When the tender fair one, who regretted her husband, who had left her
as soon as the marriage had taken place, heard this, she said to her
supposed rival, in whom she had come to confide by living with her,
"This story makes my body tremble and my heart, as it were, sink;
so tell me friend, what is the meaning of this." When the Bráhman,
disguised in female form, heard this, he went on to say, "My friend,
these are violent symptoms of love; I have felt them myself, I will
not conceal it from you." When she said this, Mrigánkavatí went on
slowly to say, "Friend, I love you as my life, so why should I not
say what I think it is time to reveal? Could any one by any artifice
be introduced into this palace?" When the pupil of that master-rogue
heard this, he took her meaning and said to her, "If this is the state
of affairs, then I have something to tell you. I have a boon from
Vishnu, by which I can at pleasure become a man during the night, so I
will now become one for your sake." So he took the globule out of his
mouth, and displayed himself to her as a handsome man in the prime of
youth. And so the Bráhman lived with the wife of the minister's son,
becoming a woman in the day, and resuming his male form at night. But
hearing in a few days that the son of the minister was on the point
of returning, he took the precaution of eloping with her from that
house during the night.
At this point in the story, it happened that his teacher, Múladeva,
heard all the circumstances; so he again assumed the form of an old
Bráhman, and accompanied by his friend Sasin, who had assumed the form
of a young Bráhman, he went and respectfully said to king Yasahketu,
"I have brought back my son; so give me my daughter-in-law." Then
the king, who was afraid of being cursed, deliberated and said to
him; "Bráhman, I do not know where your daughter-in-law has gone,
so forgive me; as I am in fault, I will give you my own daughter
for your son." When the king had said this to that prince of rogues,
disguised in the form of an old Bráhman, who asserted his false claim
with the sternness of assumed anger, he gave his daughter with all
due ceremonies to his friend Sasin, who pretended to be the supposed
Bráhman's son. Then Múladeva took the bride and bridegroom, who had
been thus united, off to his own home, without showing any desire
for the king's wealth.
And there Manahsvámin met them, and a fierce dispute took place between
him and Sasin in the presence of that Múladeva. Manahsvámin said,
"This Sasiprabhá should be given to me, for long ago, when she was
a maiden, I married her by the favour of the master." Sasin said,
"You fool, what have you to do with her? she is my wife, for her
father bestowed her on me in the presence of the fire." So they
went on wrangling about the princess, whom they had got hold of by
means of magic, and their dispute was never decided. So tell me,
king, to which of the two does that wife belong? Resolve my doubt;
the conditions of non-compliance are those which I mentioned before."
When king Trivikramasena was thus addressed by the Vetála on his
shoulder, he gave him this answer: "I consider that the princess is the
lawful wife of Sasin, since she was openly given to him by her father
in the lawful way. But Manahsvámin married her in an underhand way,