The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
of his wife to convey those tender young sons to the forest. Then,
as he was wearied out in the middle of the forest, another Bráhman
came up to him, and asked him for his horseless chariot. He gave it to
him without the slightest hesitation, and the resolute fellow, going
along on his feet, with his wife and sons, at last with difficulty
reached the grove of mortification. There he took up his abode at
the foot of a tree, and lived with deer for his only retinue, nobly
waited on by his wife Mádrí. And the forest regions ministered to
the heroic prince, while living in this kingdom of devotion; their
clusters of flowers waving in the wind were his beautiful chowries,
broad-shaded trees were his umbrellas, leaves his bed, rocks his
thrones, bees his singing-women, and various fruits his savoury viands.
Now, one day, his wife Mádrí left the hermitage to gather fruits
and flowers for him with her own hands, and a certain old Bráhman
came and asked Tárávaloka, who was in his hut, for his sons Ráma and
Lakshmana. Tárávaloka said to himself, "I shall be better able to
endure letting these sons of mine, though they are quite infants, be
led away, [641] than I could possibly manage to endure the sending a
suppliant away disappointed: the fact is, cunning fate is eager to see
my resolution give way": then he gave those sons to the Bráhman. And
when the Bráhman tried to take them away, they refused to go; then
he tied their hands and beat them with creepers; and as the cruel man
took them away, they kept crying for their mother, and turning round
and looking at their father with tearful eyes. Even when Tárávaloka
saw that, he was unmoved, but the whole world of animate and inanimate
existences was moved at his fortitude.
Then the virtuous Mádrí slowly returned tired from a remote part of the
forest to her husband's hermitage, bringing with her flowers, fruits
and roots. And she saw her husband, who had his face sadly fixed
on the ground, but she could not see anywhere those sons of hers,
though their toys, in the form of horses, chariots, and elephants
of clay, were scattered about. Her heart foreboded calamity, and she
said excitedly to her husband "Alas! I am ruined! Where are my little
sons?" Her husband slowly answered her, "Blameless one, I gave those
two little sons away to a poor Bráhman, who asked for them." When
the good lady heard that, she rose superior to her distraction,
and said to her husband, "Then you did well: how could you allow a
suppliant to go away disappointed?" When she said this, the equally
matched goodness of that married couple made the earth tremble,
and the throne of Indra rock.
Then Indra saw by his profound meditation that the world was
made to tremble by virtue of the heroic generosity of Mádrí and
Tárávaloka. Then he assumed the form of a Bráhman, and went to
Tárávaloka's hermitage, to prove him, and asked him for his only
wife Mádrí. And Tárávaloka was preparing to give without hesitation,
by the ceremony of pouring water over the hands, [642] that lady who
had been his companion in the wild forest, when Indra, thus disguised
as a Bráhman, said to him, "Royal sage, what object do you mean
to attain by giving away a wife like this?" Then Tárávaloka said,
"I have no object in view, Bráhman; so much only do I desire, that I
may ever give away to Bráhmans even my life." When Indra heard this,
he resumed his proper shape, and said to him, "I have made proof of
thee, and I am satisfied with thee; so I say to thee, thou must not
again give away thy wife; and soon thou shalt be made emperor over
all the Vidyádharas." When the god had said this, he disappeared.
In the meanwhile that old Bráhman took with him those sons of
Tárávaloka, whom he had received as a Bráhman's fee, and losing
his way, arrived, as Fate would have it, at the city of that
king Chandrávaloka, and proceeded to sell those princes in the
market. Then the citizens recognised those two boys, and went and
informed king Chandrávaloka, and took them with the Bráhman into his
presence. The king, when he saw his grandsons, shed tears, and after
he had questioned the Bráhman, and had heard the state of the case
from him, he was for a long time divided between joy and grief. Then,
perceiving the exceeding virtue of his son, he at once ceased to
care about a kingdom, though his subjects entreated him to remain,
but with his wealth he bought those two grandsons from the Bráhman,
and taking them with him, went with his retinue to the hermitage of
his son Tárávaloka.
There he saw him with matted hair, wearing a dress of bark, looking
like a great tree, the advantages of which are enjoyed by birds coming
from every quarter, for he in like manner had bestowed all he had
upon expectant Bráhmans. [643] That son ran towards him, while still
a long way off, and fell at his feet, and his father bedewed him with
tears, and took him up on his lap; and thus gave him a foretaste of
his ascent of the throne, as emperor over the Vidyádharas, after the
solemn sprinkling with water.
Then the king gave back to Tárávaloka his sons Ráma and Lakshmana,
saying that he had purchased them, and while they were relating to one
another their adventures, an elephant with four tusks and the goddess
Lakshmí descended from heaven. And when the chiefs of the Vidyádharas
had also descended, Lakshmí, lotus in hand, said to that Tárávaloka,
"Mount this elephant, and come to the country of the Vidyádharas,
and there enjoy the imperial dignity [644] earned by your great
generosity."
When Lakshmí said this, Tárávaloka, after bowing at the feet of his
father, mounted that celestial elephant, with her, and his wife,
and his sons, in the sight of all the inhabitants of the hermitage,
and surrounded by the kings of the Vidyádharas went through the air
to their domain. There the distinctive sciences of the Vidyádharas
repaired to him, and he long enjoyed supreme sway, but at last
becoming disgusted with all worldly pleasures, he retired to a forest
of ascetics.
"Thus Tárávaloka, though a man, acquired in old time by his deeds of
spotless virtue the sovereignty of all the Vidyádharas. But others,
after acquiring it, lost it by their offences: so be on your guard
against unrighteous conduct either on your own part or on that of
another." [645]
When the hermit Kasyapa had told this story, and had thus admonished
Naraváhanadatta, that emperor promised to follow his advice. And
he had a royal proclamation made all round the mountain of Siva, to
the following effect, "Listen, Vidyádharas; whoever of my subjects
after this commits an unrighteous act, will certainly be put to
death by me." The Vidyádharas received his commands with implicit
submission, and his glory was widely diffused on account of his causing
Suratamanjarí to be set at liberty; and so he lived with his retinue
in the hermitage of that excellent sage, on the Black Mountain, [646]
in the society of his maternal uncle, and in this manner spent the
rainy season.
BOOK XVII.
CHAPTER CXIV.
Glory to Siva, who assumes various forms; who, though his beloved
takes up half his body, [647] is an ascetic, free from qualities,
the due object of a world's adoration! We worship Ganesa, who, when
fanning away the cloud of bees, that flies up from his trunk, with
his flapping ears, seems to be dispersing the host of obstacles.
Thus Naraváhanadatta, who had been established in the position of
lord paramount over all the kings of the Vidyádharas, remained on that
Black Mountain in order to get through the rainy season, spending the
time in the hermitage of that sage Kasyapa, and in the society of his
maternal uncle Gopálaka, who was living the life of an ascetic. He
was accompanied by his ministers, and surrounded by twenty-five of
his wives, and attended by various Vidyádhara princes, and he occupied
himself in telling tales. One day, the hermits and his wives said to
him, "Tell us now! When Mánasavega took away queen Madanamanchuká by
his magic power, who amused you impatient of separation, and how did
he do it?"
When Naraváhanadatta had been asked this question by those hermits
and by his wives, he proceeded to speak as follows; "Can I tell now
how great grief I endured, when I found out that that wicked enemy
had carried off my queen? There was no building, and no garden,
or room, into which I did not roam seeking for her in my grief,
and all my ministers with me. Then I sat down, as if beside myself,
in a garden at the foot of a tree, and Gomukha, having obtained
his opportunity, said to me, in order to console me, 'Do not be
despondent, my sovereign; you will soon recover the queen; for the
gods promised that you should rule the Vidyádharas with her as your
consort; that must turn out as the gods predicted, for their promises
are never falsified; and resolute men, after enduring separation,
obtain reunion with those they love. Were not Rámabhadra, king Nala,
and your own grandfather, [648] after enduring separation, reunited
to their beloved wives? And was not Muktáphalaketu, emperor of the
Vidyádharas, reunited to Padmávatí, after he had been separated
from her? And now listen, king; I will tell you the story of that
couple.' When Gomukha had said this, he told me the following tale."
Story of king Brahmadatta and the Swans. [649]
There is in this country a city famous over the earth by the name of
Váránasí, which, like the body of Siva, is adorned with the Ganges, and
bestows emancipation. With the flags on its temples swayed up and down
by the wind, it seems to be ever saying to men "Come hither, and attain
salvation." With the pinnacles of its white palaces it looks like the
plateau of mount Kailása, the habitation of the god with the moon for
a diadem, and it is full of troops of Siva's devoted servants. [650]
In that city there lived of old time a king named Brahmadatta, [651]
exclusively devoted to Siva, a patron of Bráhmans, brave, generous,
and compassionate. His commands passed current through the earth,
they stumbled not in rocky defiles, they were not whelmed in seas,
there were no continents which they did not cross. He had a queen named
Somaprabhá, [652] who was dear and delightful to him as the moonlight
to the chakora, and he was as eager to drink her in with his eyes. And
he had a Bráhman minister named Sivabhúti, equal to Vrihaspati in
intellect, who had fathomed the meaning of all the Sástras.
One night, that king, as he was lying on a bed on the top of a palace
exposed to the rays of the moon, saw a couple of swans crossing
through the air, with bodies of gleaming gold, looking like two
golden lotuses opened in the water of the heavenly Ganges, [653]
and attended by a train of king-geese. When that wonderful pair had
passed from his eyes, the king was for a long time afflicted, and his
mind was full of regret at no longer enjoying that sight. He passed
that night without sleeping, and next morning he told his minister
Sivabhúti what he had seen, and said to him, "So, if I cannot feast
my eyes on those golden swans to my heart's content, of what profit
to me is my kingdom or my life?"
When the king said this to his minister Sivabhúti, he answered him,
"Do not be anxious; there is a means of bringing about what you
desire; listen, king; I will tell you what it is. Owing to the various
influence of actions in a previous birth, various is this infinite
host of sentient beings produced by the Creator in this versatile
world. This world is really fraught with woe, but owing to delusion
there arises in creatures the fancy that happiness is to be found in
it, and they take pleasure in house, and food, and drink, and so become
attached to it. And Providence has appointed that different kinds of