The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
led his daughter there adorned, and gave her to me with the usual
ceremonies. And the women said to one another, 'Fortunate is it that
the beauty of Sumanas has borne fruit by winning her a bridegroom like
herself!' Then, having married Sumanas, I slept with her in a palace,
gratified by having every want supplied in the most magnificent style.
"Then those witches came back from their assembly in this last watch
of the night, and by their supernatural power carried me off, and flew
up into the air with me. And while they were flying through the air,
they had a fight with another set of witches, who came, wishing to
carry me off, and they let me go and I fell down here. And I do not
know the city where I married that Sumanas; and I cannot tell what will
become of her now. This succession of misfortunes, which Destiny has
brought upon me, has now ended in happiness by my meeting with you."
When Kandarpa had given this account of his adventure, Kesata said
to him, "Do not be afraid, my friend; the witches will have no power
over you henceforth; since I possess a certain irresistible charm,
which will keep them at a distance: now let us roam about together:
Destiny will bestow on us good fortune." And while they were engaged
in this conversation, the night came to an end.
In the morning Kesata and Kandarpa set out from that place together,
and crossing the sea, reached in due course a city named Bhímapura
near the river called Ratnanadí. There they heard a great noise on the
bank of that river, and when they went to the place whence it came,
they saw a fish that filled the channel of the stream from bank to
bank. It had been thrown up by the tide of the sea, and got fast in the
river owing to the vastness of its bulk, and men with various weapons
in their hands were cutting it up to procure flesh. And while they
were cutting it open, there came out of its belly a woman, and being
beheld by the people with astonishment, she came terrified to the bank.
Then Kandarpa looked at her, and said exultingly to Kesata, "My friend,
here is that very Sumanas, whom I married. But I do not know how
she came to be living in the belly of a fish. So let us remain here
in silence, until the whole matter is cleared up." Kesata consented,
and they remained there. And the people said to Sumanas, "Who are you,
and what is the meaning of this?" Then she said very reluctantly,
"I am the daughter of a crest-jewel of Bráhmans, named Jayadatta,
who lived in the city of Ratnákara. My name is Sumanas, and one night
I was married to a certain handsome young Bráhman, who was a suitable
match for me. That very night, my husband went away somewhere, while
I was asleep; and though my father made diligent search for him, he
could not find him anywhere. Then I threw myself into the river to
cool the fire of grief at separation from him, and I was swallowed
by this fish; and now Destiny has brought me here."
While she was saying this, a Bráhman named Yajnasvámin rushed out of
the crowd, and embraced her and said this to her, "Come, come with
me, niece; you are the daughter of my sister; for I am Yajnasvámin,
your mother's own brother." When Sumanas heard that, she uncovered her
face and looked at him, and recognising her uncle, she embraced his
feet weeping. But after a moment she ceased weeping, and said to him,
"Do you give me fuel, for, as I am separated from my husband, I have
no other refuge but the fire."
Her uncle did all he could to dissuade her, but she would not abandon
her intention; and then Kandarpa, having thus seen her real feelings
tested, came up to her. When the wise Sumanas saw him near her, she
recognised him, and fell weeping at his feet. And when the discreet
woman was questioned by the people, and by that uncle of hers, she
answered, "He is my husband." Then all were delighted, and Yajnasvámin
took her husband Kandarpa to his house, together with Kesata. There
they told their adventures, and Yajnasvámin and his family lovingly
waited on them with many hospitable attentions.
After some days had passed, Kesata said to Kandarpa, "You have gained
all you want by recovering your longed-for wife; so now go with her
to Ratnapura your own city; but, as I have not attained the object of
my desire, I will not return to my own country: I, my friend, will
make a pilgrimage to all the holy bathing-places and so destroy my
body." When Yajnasvámin, in Bhímapura, heard this, he said to Kesata,
"Why do you utter this despondent speech? As long as people are alive,
there is nothing they cannot get: in proof of this hear the story of
Kusumáyudha, which I am about to tell you."
Story of Kusumáyudha and Kamalalochaná.
There was in a town named Chandrapura a Bráhman named Devasvámin:
he had a very beautiful daughter named Kamalalochaná. And he had a
young Bráhman pupil named Kusumáyudha; and that pupil and his daughter
loved one another well.
One day her father made up his mind to give her to another suitor,
and at once that maiden sent by her confidante the following message
to Kusumáyudha, "Though I have long ago fixed my heart on you for a
husband, my father has promised to give me to another, so devise a
scheme for carrying me off hence." So Kusumáyudha made an arrangement
to carry her off, and he placed outside her house at night a servant
with a mule for that purpose. So she quietly went out and mounted
the mule, but that servant did not take her to his master; he took
her somewhere else, to make her his own.
And during the night he took Kamalalochaná a long distance, and they
reached a certain city by the morning, when that chaste woman said to
the servant, "Where is my husband your master? Why do you not take me
to him?" When the cunning rogue heard this, he said to her who was
alone in a foreign country, "I am going to marry you myself: never
mind about him; how can you get to him now?" When the discreet woman
heard this, she said, "Indeed I love you very much." [811] Then the
rascal left her in the garden of the city, and went to the market to
buy the things required for a wedding. In the meanwhile that maiden
fled, with the mule, and entered the house of a certain old man who
made garlands. She told him her history, and he made her welcome, so
she remained there. And the wicked servant, not finding her in the
garden, went away from it disappointed, and returned to his master
Kusumáyudha. And when his master questioned him, he said, "The fact is,
you are an upright man yourself, and you do not understand the ways
of deceitful women. No sooner did she come out and was seen, than
I was seized there by those other men, and the mule was taken away
from me. By good luck I managed to escape and have come here." When
Kusumáyudha heard this, he remained silent, and plunged in thought.
One day his father sent him to be married, and as he was going
along, he reached the city, where Kamalalochaná was. There he
made the bridegroom's followers encamp in a neighbouring garden,
and while he was roaming about alone, Kamalalochaná saw him, and
told the garland-maker in whose house she was living. He went and
told her intended husband what had taken place, and brought him to
her. Then the garland-maker collected the necessary things, and the
long-desired marriage between the youth and the maiden was immediately
celebrated. Then Kusumáyudha punished that wicked servant, and married
in addition that second maiden, who was the cause of his finding
Kamalalochaná, and in order to marry whom he had started from home,
and he returned rejoicing to his own country with those two wives.
"Thus the fortunate are reunited in the most unexpected manner, and so
you may be certain, Kesata, of regaining your beloved soon in the same
way." When Yajnasvámin had said this, Kandarpa, Sumanas and Kesata,
remained for some days in his house, and then they set out for their
own country. But on the way they reached a great forest, and they
were separated from one another in the confusion produced by a charge
of wild elephants. Of the party Kesata went on alone and grieved,
and in course of time reached the city of Kásí and found his friend
Kandarpa there. And he went with him to his own city Pátaliputra,
and he remained there some time welcomed by his father. And there
he told his parents all his adventures, beginning with his marrying
Rúpavatí, and ending with the story of Kandarpa.
In the meanwhile Sumanas fled, terrified at the elephants, and entered
a thicket, and while she was there, the sun set for her. And when
night came on, she cried out in her woe, "Alas, my husband! Alas,
my father! Alas, my mother!" and resolved to fling herself into a
forest fire. And in the meanwhile that company of witches, that were
so full of pity for Kandarpa, having conquered the other witches,
reached their own temple. There they remembered Kandarpa, and finding
out by their supernatural knowledge that his wife had lost her way in
a wood, they deliberated as follows, "Kandarpa, being a resolute man,
will unaided obtain his desire; but his wife, being a young girl,
and having lost her way in the forest, will assuredly die. So let us
take her and put her down in Ratnapura, in order that she may live
there in the house of Kandarpa's father with his other wife." When
the witches had come to this conclusion, they went to that forest
and comforted Sumanas there, and took her and left her in Ratnapura.
When the night had passed, Sumanas, wandering about in that city,
heard the following cry in the mouths of the people who were running
hither and thither, "Lo! the virtuous Anangavatí, the wife of the
Bráhman Kandarpa, who, after her husband had gone somewhere or other,
lived a long time in hope of reunion with him, not having recovered
him, has now gone out in despair to enter the fire, followed by her
weeping father-in-law and mother-in-law." When Sumanas heard that, she
went quickly to the place where the pyre had been made, and going up to
Anangavatí, said to her, in order to dissuade her, "Noble lady, do not
act rashly, for that husband of yours is alive." Having said this, she
told the whole story from the beginning. And she shewed the jewelled
ring that Kandarpa gave her. Then all welcomed her, perceiving that her
account was true. Then Kandarpa's father honoured that bride Sumanas
and gladly lodged her in his house with the delighted Anangavatí.
Then Kandarpa left Pátaliputra [812] without telling Kesata, as
he knew he would not like it, in order to roam about in search of
Sumanas. And after he had gone, Kesata, feeling unhappy without
Rúpavatí, left his house without his parents' knowledge, and went
to roam about hither and thither. And Kandarpa, in the course of his
wanderings, happened to visit that very city, where Kesata, married
Rúpavatí. And hearing a great noise of people, he asked what it meant,
and a certain man said to him, "Here is Rúpavatí preparing to die, as
she cannot find her husband Kesata,; the tumult is on that account;
listen to the story connected with her." Then that man related the
strange story of Rúpavatí's marriage with Kesata and of her adventure
with the Rákshasa, and then continued as follows:
"Then that old Bráhman, having tricked Kesata, went on his way,
taking with him Rúpavatí for his son: but nobody knew where Kesata
had gone after marrying her. And Rúpavatí, not seeing Kesata on the
journey, said, 'Why do I not see my husband here, though all the rest
of the party are travelling along with me?' When the old Bráhman heard
that, he shewed her that son of his, and said to her, 'My daughter,
this son of mine is your husband; behold him.' Then Rúpavatí said
in a rage to the old man there, 'I will not have this ugly fellow
for a husband; I will certainly die, if I cannot get that husband,