The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
so violently oppressed by excessive weight of sorrow, that his heart
burst asunder at once, with a crack. And when Málatiká was lamenting
over their corpses, the night, seeing that both these lovers had
met their end, came to an end, as if out of grief. And the next day,
the relations of both, hearing from the gardeners what had happened,
came there distracted with shame, wonder, grief, and bewilderment. And
they remained for a long time doubtful what to do, with faces downcast
from distress; bad women are a grievous affliction, and a source of
calamity to their family.
At this moment Manivarman, the husband of Anangamanjarí, came, full
of longing to see her, from his father's house in Támraliptí. When
he reached his father-in-law's house, and heard what had taken
place, he came running to that garden, with his eyes blinded with
tears. There, beholding his wife lying dead by the side of another
man, the passionate man at once yielded up his breath, that was heated
with the fire of grief. Then the people there began to cry out, and
to make an uproar, and all the citizens heard what had taken place,
and came there in a state of astonishment.
Then the goddess Chandí, who was close at hand, having been called
down into that garden long ago by the father of Anangamanjarí, was
thus supplicated by her Ganas; "Goddess, this merchant Arthadatta,
who has established an image of thee in his garden, has always been
devoted to thee, so have mercy upon him in this his affliction." When
the beloved of Siva, the refuge of the distressed, heard this prayer
of her Ganas, she gave command that the three should return to life,
free from passion. So they all, by her favour, immediately arose, as if
awaking from sleep, free from the passion of love. Then all the people
were full of joy, beholding that marvel; and Kamalákara went home,
with his face downcast from shame; and Arthadatta, having recovered his
daughter [399] Anangamanjarí, who looked thoroughly ashamed of herself,
together with her husband, returned to his house in high spirits.
When the Vetála had told this story that night on the way, he again put
a question to king Trivikramasena. He said, "King, tell me, which of
those three, who were blinded by passion, was the most infatuated? And
remember, the curse before-mentioned will take effect, if you know
and do not say." When the king heard this question of the Vetála's, he
answered him, "It seems to me that Manivarman was the most infatuated
with passion of the three. For one can understand those two dying,
as they were desperately in love with one another, and their amorous
condition had been fully developed by lapse of time. But Manivarman
was terribly infatuated, for when he saw his wife dead of love for
another man, and the occasion called for indignation, he was so far
from being angry that, in his great love, he died of grief." When the
king had said this, the mighty Vetála again left his shoulder, and
departed to his own place, and the king again went in pursuit of him.
NOTE.
Oesterley, page 217, gives a story which resembles this in its
conclusion. A king finds a girl being carried off by robbers. He
delivers her and places her in a temple, promising to bring her
food. But on his way he meets a kuttiní, who conducts him to another
girl, with whom he falls desperately in love, and so forgets the girl
he rescued. She is found by a merchant. He takes her to his house and
sets food before her. He then kills a rat, and boasts of his valour;
(see page 16 of this volume.) This conduct, contrasted with that
of the king, makes the girl die of disgust. The merchant kills
himself. The king, not finding the first girl where he left her,
commits suicide. The kuttiní considers that she has caused the death
of three persons, and kills herself in a fit of remorse. The Vetála
asks, "Which of these four deaths was the most extraordinary?" The
king answers, "That of the kuttiní, for the others died of excess
of passion."
CHAPTER XCVI.
(Vetála 22.)
Then king Trivikramasena again fetched the Vetála from the top of the
asoka-tree, and put him on his shoulder, and as he was going along,
the Vetála said to him on the way, "King, you are good and brave,
so hear this matchless tale."
Story of the four Bráhman brothers who resuscitated the tiger.
There lived once on the earth a king, named Dharanívaráha, who was
lord of the town of Pátaliputra. [400] In his realm, which abounded
in Bráhmans, there was a royal grant to Bráhmans named Brahmasthala;
and on it there lived a Bráhman of the name of Vishnusvámin. He had a
wife that was as well-suited to him as the oblation to the fire. And
in course of time he had four sons by her. And when they had learnt
the Vedas, and passed their childhood, Vishnusvámin went to heaven,
and his wife followed him.
Then all his sons there, being in a miserable state, as they had no
protectors, and having had all their property taken from them by their
relations, deliberated together, and said, "We have no means of support
here, so why should we not go hence to the house of our maternal
grandfather in the village named Yajnasthala?" Having determined on
this, they set out, living on alms, and after many days they reached
the house of their maternal grandfather. Their grandfather was dead,
but their mother's brothers gave them shelter and food, and they lived
in their house, engaged in reading the Vedas. But after a time, as
they were paupers, their uncles came to despise them, and neglected
to supply them with food, clothes, and other necessaries.
Then their hearts were wounded by the manifest contempt shewn for
them by their relations, and they brooded over it in secret, and then
the eldest brother said to the rest; "Well! brothers, what are we
to do? Destiny performs every thing, no man can do anything in this
world at any place or time. For to-day, as I was wandering about in
a state of distraction, I reached a cemetery; and in it I saw a man
lying dead upon the ground, with all his limbs relaxed. And when I saw
him, I envied his state, and I said to myself; 'Fortunate is this man,
who is thus at rest, having got rid of his burden of grief.' Such was
the reflection that then occurred to me; so I determined to die: and
I tried to hang myself by means of a rope fastened to the branch of a
tree. I became unconscious, but my breath did not leave my body; and
while I was in this state, the rope broke, and I fell to the earth. And
as soon as I recovered consciousness, I saw that some compassionate
man was fanning me with his garment. He said to me, 'Friend, say,
why do you allow yourself to be thus afflicted, though you are
wise? For joy springs from good deeds, and pain from evil deeds,
these are their only sources. If your agitation is due to pain, then
perform good deeds; how can you be so foolish as to desire to incur
the pains of hell by suicide?' With these words that man consoled
me, and then departed somewhere or other, but I have come here,
having abandoned my design of committing suicide. So, you see that,
if Destiny is adverse, it is not even possible to die. Now I intend
to go to some holy water, and there consume my body with austerities,
in order that I may never again endure the misery of poverty."
When the eldest brother said this, his younger brothers said to him,
"Sir, why are you, though wise, afflicted with pain merely because
you are poor? Do you not know that riches pass away like an autumn
cloud. Who can ever count on retaining Fortune or a fickle woman,
though he carry them off and guard them carefully, for both
are insincere in their affection and secretly hostile to their
possessor? So a wise man must acquire by vigorous exertion some eminent
accomplishment, which will enable him frequently to bind [401] and lead
home by force riches which are like bounding deer." When the eldest
brother was addressed in this language by his brothers, he at once
recovered his self-control, and said, "What accomplishment of this kind
should we acquire?" Then they all considered and said to one another,
"We will search through the earth and acquire some magic power." So
having adopted this resolution, and fixed upon a trysting-place at
which to meet, the four separated, going east, west, north and south.
And in course of time they met again at the appointed spot, and asked
one another what each had learned. Then one of them said, "I have
learned this magic secret; if I find a bit of a bone of any animal,
I can immediately produce on it the flesh of that animal." When the
second heard this speech of his brother's, he said, "When the flesh of
any animal has been superinduced upon a piece of bone, I know how to
produce the skin and hair appropriate to that animal." Then the third
said, "And when the hair and flesh and skin have been produced, I am
able to create the limbs of the animal to which the bone belonged." And
the fourth said, "When the animal has its limbs properly developed,
I know how to endow it with life."
When they had said this to one another, the four brothers went
into the forest to find a piece of bone, on which to display their
skill. There it happened that they found a piece of a lion's bone,
and they took it up without knowing to what animal it belonged. Then
the first covered it with the appropriate flesh, and the second in
the same way produced on it all the requisite skin and hair, and the
third completed the animal by giving it all its appropriate limbs,
and it became a lion, and then the fourth endowed it with life. Then
it rose up a very terrible lion, furnished with a dense shaggy mane,
having a mouth formidable with teeth, [402] and with hooked claws
at the end of its paws. And charging the four authors of its being,
it slew them on the spot, and then retired glutted to the forest. So
those Bráhmans perished by making the fatal mistake of creating a lion:
for who can give joy to his own soul by raising up a noisome beast?
So, if Fate be not propitious, an accomplishment, though painfully
acquired, not only does not bring prosperity, but actually brings
destruction. For the tree of valour only bears fruit, as a general
rule, when the root, being uninjured, [403] is watered with the water
of wisdom, and when it is surrounded with the trench of policy.
When the Vetála, sitting on the shoulder of the king, had told this
tale on the way, that night, to king Trivikramasena, he went on to
say to him, "King, which of these four was guilty in respect of
the production of the lion, that slew them all? Tell me quickly,
and remember that the old condition is still binding on you." When
the king heard the Vetála say this, he said to himself, "This demon
wishes me to break silence, and so to escape from me. Never mind,
I will go and fetch him again." Having formed this resolution in his
heart, he answered that Vetála, "That one among them, who gave life
to the lion, is the guilty one. For they produced the flesh, the skin,
the hair, and the limbs, by magic power, without knowing what kind of
animal they were making: and therefore no guilt attaches to them on
account of their ignorance. But the man, who, when he saw that the
animal had a lion's shape, gave life to it, in order to display his
skill, was guilty of the death of those Bráhmans."
When the mighty Vetála heard this speech of the king's, he again
left his shoulder by magic power and went back to his own place,
and the king again went in pursuit of him.
NOTE.
The story, as given in the Panchatantra (Benfey, Vol. II, p. 332), is
somewhat different. Here we have four brothers of whom three possess
all knowledge, but one only possesses common sense. The first brother
joins together the bones of the lion, the second covers them with