The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
there dwelt a king named Súryaprabha, equal to Indra. He, like Vishnu,
rescued this earth, and bore it long time on his arm, gladdening
all men by his frame ever ready to bear their burdens. [374] In the
realm of that king tears were produced only by contact with smoke,
there was no talk of death except in the case of the living death
of starved lovers, and the only fines were the fine gold sticks in
the hands of his warders. He was rich in all manner of wealth, and he
had only one source of grief, namely, that, though he had many wives,
no son was born to him.
Now, at this point of the story, there was a merchant, of the name
of Dhanapála, in the great city of Támraliptí, the wealthiest of the
wealthy. And he had born to him one daughter only, and her name was
Dhanavatí, who was shewn by her beauty to be a Vidyádharí fallen by
a curse. When she grew up to womanhood, the merchant died; and his
relations seized his property, as the king did not interfere to protect
it. Then the wife of that merchant, who was named Hiranyavatí, took
her own jewels and ornaments, which she had carefully concealed, and
left her house secretly at the beginning of night, with her daughter
Dhanavatí, and fled, to escape from her husband's relations. And with
difficulty did she get outside the town, leaning upon the hand of her
daughter, for without her was the darkness of night, and within her
the darkness of grief. And as she went along in the thick darkness
outside the town, it chanced, so fate would have it, that she ran
her shoulder against a thief impaled on a stake, whom she did not
see. He was still alive, and his pain being aggravated by the blow
he received from her shoulder, he said, "Alas! who has rubbed salt
into my wounds?" The merchant's wife then and there said to him,
"Who are you?" He answered her, "I am a detected thief impaled here,
[375] and though I am impaled, my breath has not yet left my body,
wicked man that I am. So tell me, lady, who you are and whither you
are going in this manner." When the merchant's wife heard this, she
told him her story; and at that moment the eastern quarter adorned
her face with the outshining moon, as with a beauty-patch.
Then, all the horizon being lighted up, the thief saw the merchant's
daughter, the maiden Dhanavatí, and said to her mother, "Listen to
one request of mine; I will give you a thousand pieces of gold; come,
give me this maiden daughter of yours to wife." She laughed, and said,
"What do you want with her?" Then the thief replied, "I am now as
good as dead, and I have no son; and you know, a sonless man does
not inherit the worlds of bliss. But, if you agree to my proposal,
whatever son she may give birth to by my appointment, whoever may be
his father, will be the issue raised up to me. This is the reason why
I ask for her, but do you accomplish that desire of mine." When the
merchant's widow heard this, she consented to it out of avarice. And
she brought water from somewhere or other, and poured it on the hand of
that thief, and said, "I give you this my maiden daughter in marriage."
He then gave to her daughter the command aforesaid, and then said to
the merchant's widow, "Go and dig at the foot of this banyan-tree,
and take the gold you find there; and when I am dead, have my body
burnt with the usual ceremonies, and throw my bones into some sacred
water, and go with your daughter to the city of Vakrolaka. There
the people are made happy by good government under king Súryaprabha,
and you will be able to live as you like, free from anxiety, as you
will not be persecuted." When the thief had said this, being thirsty,
he drank some water which she brought; and his life came to an end,
spent with the torture of impalement.
Then the merchant's widow went and took the gold from the foot of
the banyan-tree, and went secretly with her daughter to the house
of a friend of her husband's; and while she was there, she managed
to get that thief's body duly burnt, and had his bones thrown into
a sacred water, and all the other rites performed. And the next day
she took that concealed wealth, and went off with her daughter, and
travelling along reached in course of time that city Vakrolaka. There
she bought a house from a great merchant named Vasudatta, and lived
in it with her daughter Dhanavatí.
Now at that time there lived in that city a teacher of the name of
Vishnusvámin. And he had a pupil, a very handsome Bráhman of the name
of Manahsvámin. And he, though he was of high birth and well-educated,
was so enslaved by the passions of youth that he fell in love with
a hetæra of the name of Hansávalí. But she demanded a fee of five
hundred gold dínárs, and he did not possess this sum, so he was in
a state of perpetual despondency.
And one day that merchant's daughter Dhanavatí saw him from the top
of her palace, such as I have described, with attenuated but handsome
frame. Her heart was captivated by his beauty; so she called to mind
the injunction of that thief her husband, and artfully said to her
mother, who was near her; "Mother, behold the beauty and youth of
this young Bráhman, how charming they are, raining nectar into the
eyes of the whole world." When that merchant's widow heard this,
she saw that her daughter was in love with the young Bráhman, and she
thought thus in her mind; "My daughter is bound by the orders of her
husband to choose some man, in order to raise up issue to her husband,
so why should she not invite this one?" When she had gone through
these reflections, she entrusted her wish to a confidential maid,
and sent her to bring the Bráhman for her daughter.
The maid went and took that Bráhman aside, and communicated her
mistress's wish to him, and that young and dissolute Bráhman said to
her; "If they will give me five hundred gold dínárs for Hansávalí,
I will go there for one night." When he said this to the maid, she
went and communicated it to the merchant's widow, and she sent the
money to him by her hand. When Manahsvámin had received the money, he
went with the maid to the private apartments of the widow's daughter,
Dhanavatí, who had been made over to him. Then he saw that expectant
fair one, the ornament of the earth, as the partridge beholds the
moonlight, and rejoiced; and after passing the night there, he went
away secretly next morning.
And Dhanavatí, the merchant's daughter, became pregnant by him,
and in due time she brought forth a son, whose auspicious marks
foreshadowed his lofty destiny. She and her mother were much pleased
at the birth of a son; and then Siva manifested himself to them in
a dream by night, and said to them; "Take this boy, as he lies in
his cradle, and leave him, with a thousand gold pieces, early in the
morning, at the door of king Súryaprabha. In this way all will turn
out well." The merchant's widow and the merchant's daughter, having
received this command from Siva, woke up, and told one another their
dream. And relying upon the god, they took the boy and the gold,
and laid them together at the gate of king Súryaprabha's palace. [376]
In the meanwhile Siva thus commanded in a dream king Súryaprabha,
who was tormented with anxiety to obtain a son; "Rise up, king,
somebody has placed at the gate of your palace a handsome child and
some gold, take him as he lies in his cradle." When Siva had said
this to the king, he woke up in the morning, and at that moment the
warders came in and told him the same, and so he went out himself,
and seeing at the gate of the palace that boy with a heap of gold, and
observing that he was of auspicious appearance, having his hands and
feet marked with the line, the umbrella, the banner and other marks,
he said, "Siva has given me a suitable child," and he himself took
him up in his arms, and went into the palace with him. And he made a
feast, and gave away an incalculable amount of wealth, so that only
the word "poor" was without its proper wealth of signification. And
king Súryaprabha spent twelve days in music, and dancing, and other
amusements, and then he gave that son the name of Chandraprabha.
And gradually prince Chandraprabha increased in stature as well as in
excellent character, delighting his dependants by both. And in course
of time he grew up, and became capable of bearing the weight of the
earth, winning over the subjects by his courage, his generosity, his
learning, and other accomplishments. And his father, king Súryaprabha,
seeing that he possessed these qualities, appointed him his successor
in the kingdom, and being an old man, and having accomplished all
his ends in life, he went to Váránasí. And while that son of his,
distinguished for policy, was ruling the earth, he abandoned his body
at Váránasí, in the performance of severe asceticism.
And that pious king Chandraprabha, hearing of the death of his father,
lamented for him, and performed the usual ceremonies, and then said
to his ministers, "How can I ever pay my debt to my father? However I
will make one recompense to him with my own hand. I will take his bones
and duly fling them into the Ganges, and I will go to Gayá, and offer
an obsequial cake to all the ancestors, and I will diligently perform
a pilgrimage to all sacred waters, as far as the eastern sea." When
the king said this, his ministers said to him, "Your majesty, kings
ought never to do these things, for sovereignty has many weak points,
and cannot subsist a moment without being upheld. So you must pay this
debt to your father by the instrumentality of another. What visiting
of holy waters, other than the doing of your duty, is incumbent
upon you? Kings, who are ever carefully guarded, have nothing to
do with pilgrimage, which is exposed to many dangers." When king
Chandraprabha heard this speech of his ministers', he answered them,
"Away with doubts and hesitations! I must certainly go for my father's
sake; and I must visit the sacred waters, while I am young and strong
enough. Who knows what will take place hereafter, for the body perishes
in a moment? And you must guard my kingdom until my return." When the
ministers heard this resolve of the king's, they remained silent. So
the king got ready all the requisites for the journey. Then, on
an auspicious day, the king bathed, made offerings to the fire,
gave complimentary presents to Bráhmans, and ascended a chariot to
which the horses were yoked, subdued in spirit and wearing the dress
of an ascetic, [377] and started on his pilgrimage. With difficulty
did he induce the feudal chiefs, the Rájpúts, the citizens, and the
country people, who followed him as far as the frontier, to return,
much against their will; and so, throwing the burden of his realm
upon his ministers, king Chandraprabha set out in the company of his
private chaplain, attended by Bráhmans in chariots. He was diverted
by beholding various garbs, and hearing various languages, and by the
other distractions of travel, and so seeing on his way all kinds of
countries, in course of time he reached the Ganges. And he gazed upon
that river, which seemed with the ridges of its waves to be making a
ladder for mortals to ascend into heaven by; and which might be said
to imitate Ambiká, since it sprang from the mountain Himavat, and
playfully pulled in its course the hair of Siva, and was worshipped
by the divine Rishis and the Ganas. So he descended from his chariot,
and bathed in that river, and threw into it in accordance with pious
custom the bones of king Súryaprabha.
And after he had given gifts and performed the sráddha, he ascended
the chariot, and set out, and in course of time reached Prayága [378]
celebrated by rishis, where the meeting streams of the Ganges and
Yamuná gleam for the welfare of men, like the line of flame and the