The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
chief's sons were old, while he was a young man, and put this question
to him, "Chief, explain, I pray you, this that puzzles me. How comes
it, that you are a young man, whereas these children of yours are
old?" When the king had said this to the Savara chief, he answered him,
"This, king, is a strange story; listen if you feel any curiosity
about it."
Story of the grateful Monkey. [797]
I was long ago a Bráhman named Chandrasvámin, and I lived in the city
of Máyápur. One day I went by order of my father to the forest to fetch
wood. There a monkey stood barring my way, but without hurting me,
looking at me with an eye of grief, pointing out to me another path. I
said to myself, "This monkey does not bite me, so I had better go along
the path which he points out, and see what his object is." Thereupon
I set out with him along that path, and the monkey kept going along
in front of me, and turning round to look at me. And after he had
gone some distance, he climbed up jambu-tree, and I looked at the
upper part of the tree, which was covered with a dense network of
creepers: and I saw a female monkey there with her body fettered by
a mass of creepers twisted round her, and I understood that it was
on this account that the monkey had brought me there. Then I climbed
up the tree, and cut with my axe the creepers [798] that had twisted
round and entangled her, and set that female monkey at liberty.
And when I got down from the tree, the male and female monkey came
down also and embraced my feet. And the male monkey left that female
clinging to my feet for a moment, and went and fetched a heavenly
fruit, and gave it to me. I took it and returned home after I had got
my fuel, and there I and my wife ate that splendid fruit together,
and as soon as we had eaten it, we ceased to be liable to old age
and disease. [799]
Then there arose in that country of ours the scourge of famine. And
afflicted by that calamity the people of that land fled in all
directions. And I happened in course of time to reach this country
with my wife. And at that time there was a king of the Savaras here
named Kánchanadanshtra: I entered his service with my sword. And as
Kánchanadanshtra saw that I came to the front in several engagements,
he appointed me general. And as I had won the affections of that
master of mine by my exclusive devotion to him, when he died, having
no son, he bestowed on me his kingdom. And twenty-seven hundred years
have passed over my head, since I have been in this place, and yet,
owing to eating that fruit, I do not suffer from old age.
When Ekákikesarin, the king of the Bhillas, had told in these
words his own history, he went on to ask a favour of the astonished
monarch, saying, "By the fruit given by the monkey I gained a long
life, and by that long life I have again obtained a perfect fruit,
namely, the sight of your august self. So I entreat, king, that the
condescension towards me, which you have shown by coming to my house,
may be developed into gracious approval. I have, king, a daughter
of matchless beauty, born to me by a Kshatriyá wife, and her name is
Madanasundarí. That pearl of maidens ought not to fall to the lot of
any one but your Highness. Therefore I bestow her on you; marry her
with due ceremonies. And I, my sovereign, will follow you as your
slave with twenty thousand archers."
When the Bhilla chief addressed this petition to the king, he granted
it. And in an auspicious hour he married the daughter of that chief,
who gave him a hundred camels laden with pearls and musk. And after
the king had remained there seven days, he set out thence with
Madanasundarí and the army of the Bhillas.
In the meanwhile, after the king had been carried away by his horse,
our army remained despondent in the forest, where the hunting
took place; but the warder Bhadráyudha said to them, "Away with
despondency! Even though our king has been away for a long time,
he is of divine power, and no serious misfortune will happen to
him. Do you not remember how he went to Pátála and married there the
daughter of a Nága, whose name was Surúpá, and came back here alone,
and how the hero went to the world of the Gandharvas, and returned
here with Tárávalí the daughter of the king of the Gandharvas?" With
these words Bhadráyudha consoled them all, and they remained at the
entrance of the forest waiting for the king.
And while that Madanasundarí was advancing leisurely by an open path,
accompanied by the Savara hosts, the king entered that forest on
horseback, with myself and the Vetála, in order to get a sight of the
boar he had before seen: and when he entered it, the boar rushed out
in front of him, and the moment the king saw it, he killed it with five
arrows. When it was slain, the Vetála rushed to it, and tore its belly
open, and suddenly there issued from it a man of pleasing appearance.
The king, astonished, asked him who he was, and then there came there
a wild elephant, resembling a moving mountain. When the king saw that
wild elephant charging down on him, he smote it in a vital place and
slew it with a single arrow. The Vetála tore open its belly also,
and there issued from it a man of heavenly appearance, and a woman
beautiful in all her limbs. And when the king was about to question
the man, who issued from the boar, he said to him, "Listen, king;
I am going to tell you my history.
"We two, king, are two sons of gods: [800] this one's name is Bhadra,
and I am Subha. As we were roaming about we observed the hermit Kanva
engaged in meditation. We assumed in sport the forms of an elephant
and a boar, and having done so, we terrified the great sage in our
reckless folly, and he pronounced on us this curse, 'Become in this
forest an elephant and boar such as you are now; but when you shall be
killed by king Vikramáditya, you shall be released from the curse.' So
we became an elephant and a boar by the curse of the hermit, and we
have to-day been set free by you; as for this woman, let her tell
her own story. But touch this boar on the neck and this elephant on
the back; and they will become for you celestial sword and shield."
When he had said this, he disappeared with his companion, and the boar
and elephant, touched by the hand of the king, became for him a sword
and a shield. Then the woman, being questioned about her history,
spoke as follows:
"I am the wife of a great merchant in Ujjayiní named Dhanadatta. One
night, as I was sleeping on the top of a palace, this elephant came and
swallowed me and brought me here; however this man was not inside the
elephant, but when its belly was torn open, he came out of it with me."
When the woman said this in grief, the king said to her, "Be of good
courage: I will take you to your husband's house: go and journey
along in security with my harem." When he had said this, he made
the Vetála take her and hand her over to the queen Madanasundarí,
who was travelling by a different path.
Then, the Vetála having returned, we suddenly saw there in the wood
two princesses, with a numerous and splendid retinue. And the king
sent me and summoned their chamberlains, and they, when asked whence
the two maidens came, told the following story;
Story of the two princesses.
There is a dvípa named Katáha, the home of all felicities. In it
there is a king rightly named Gunaságara. [801] He had born to him
by his principal queen a daughter named Gunavatí, who by her beauty
produced astonishment even in the Creator who made her. And holy
seers announced that she should have for a husband the lord of the
seven dvípas; whereupon her father the king deliberated with his
counsellors; and came to this conclusion, "King Vikramáditya is a
suitable husband for my daughter; so I will send her to marry him."
Accordingly, the king made his daughter embark in a ship on the sea,
with her retinue and wealth, and sent her off. But it so happened
that when the ship came near Suvarnadvípa, it was swallowed, with
the princess and the people on board, by a large fish. But that
monstrous fish was carried by the current of the sea as if by the
course of Destiny, and thrown up on a coast near that dvípa, and there
stranded. And the people of the neighbourhood, the moment they saw it,
ran with many weapons in their hands, and killed that marvellous fish,
and cut open its belly. [802] And then there came out of it that
great ship full of people; and when the king of that dvípa heard of
it, he came there greatly wondering. And that king, whose name was
Chandrasekhara, and who was the brother-in-law of king Gunaságara,
heard the whole story from the people in the ship. Then the king,
finding that Gunavatí was the daughter of his sister, took her into his
palace, and out of joy celebrated a feast. And the next day that king
put on board a ship in a lucky moment his daughter Chandravatí, whom
he had long intended to give to king Vikramáditya, with that Gunavatí,
and sent her off with much magnificence as a gift to that sovereign.
These two princesses, having crossed the sea, by advancing gradually,
have at length arrived here; and we are their attendants. And when
we reached this place, a very large boar and a very large elephant
rushed upon us; then, king, we uttered this cry, "These maidens have
come to offer themselves for wives to king Vikramáditya: so preserve
them for him, ye Guardians of the World, as is meet." When the boar
and the elephant heard this, they said to us with articulate speech,
"Be of good courage! the mere mention of that king's name ensures your
safety. And you shall see him arrive here in a moment." When the boar
and the elephant, who were, no doubt, some heavenly beings or other,
had said this, they went away.
"This is our story," said the chamberlain, and then, queen, I said to
them, "And this is the king you seek." Then they fell at the king's
feet rejoicing, and made over to him those two princesses Gunavatí
and Chandravatí. And the king gave orders to the Vetála and had those
two fair ones also taken to his queen, saying, "Let all three travel
with Madanasundarí."
The Vetála returned immediately, and then, queen, the king went with
him and myself by an out-of-the-way path. And as we were going along in
the forest, the sun set; and just at that time we heard there the sound
of a drum. The king asked, "Whence comes this sound of a drum?" The
Vetála answered him, "King, there is a temple here. It is a marvel
of heavenly skill, having been built by Visvakarman; and this beating
of the drum is to announce the commencement of the evening spectacle."
When the Vetála had said this, he and the king and I went there out
of curiosity, and after we had tied up the horse, we entered. And
we saw worshipped there a great linga of tárkshyaratna [803] and in
front of it a spectacle with blazing lights. And there danced there
for a long time three nymphs of celestial beauty, in four kinds of
measures, accompanied with music and singing. And at the end of the
spectacle we beheld a wonder, for the dancing nymphs disappeared in
the figures carved on the pillars of the temple: and in the same way
the singers and players went into the figures of men painted on the
walls. When the king saw this, he was astonished, but the Vetála said
to him, "Such is this heavenly enchantment produced by Visvakarman,
lasting for ever, for this will always take place at both twilights."
When he had said this, we wandered about in the temple, and saw in
one place a female figure on a pillar, of extraordinary beauty. When
the king saw her, he was bewildered by her beauty, and remained for
a moment absent-minded and motionless, so that he himself was like a
figure cut on a pillar. And he exclaimed, "If I do not see a living