The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
to this rock of execution, and to be lamented by my mother."
When Jímútaváhana heard this speech of Sankachúda's, he was grieved,
and felt sorrow in his heart and said to him, "Alas! Vásuki exercises
his kingly power in a very cowardly fashion, in that with his own
hand he conducts his subjects to serve as food for his enemy. Why did
he not first offer himself to Garuda? To think of this effeminate
creature choosing to witness the destruction of his race! And how
great a sin does Garuda, though the son of Kasyapa, commit! How great
folly do even great ones commit for the sake of the body only! So
I will to-day deliver you alone from Garuda by surrendering my
body. Do not be despondent, my friend." When Sankachúda heard this,
he out of his firm patience said to him,--"This be far from thee,
O great-hearted one, do not say so again. The destruction of a jewel
for the sake of a piece of glass is never becoming. And I will never
incur the reproach of having disgraced my race." In these words the
good snake Sankachúda tried to dissuade Jímútaváhana, and thinking
that the time of Garuda's arrival would come in a moment, he went to
worship in his last hour an image of Siva under the name of Gokarna,
that stood on the shore of the sea. And when he was gone, Jímútaváhana,
that treasure-house of compassion, considered that he had gained an
opportunity of offering himself up to save the snake's life. Thereupon
he quickly dismissed Mitrávasu to his own house on the pretext of some
business, artfully pretending that he himself had forgotten it. And
immediately the earth near him trembled, being shaken by the wind of
the wings of the approaching Garuda, as if through astonishment at his
valour. That made Jímútaváhana think that the enemy of the snakes was
approaching, and full of compassion for others he ascended the stone of
execution. And in a moment Garuda swooped down, darkening the heaven
with his shadow, and carried off that great-hearted one, striking him
with his beak. He shed drops of blood, and his crest-jewel dropped off
torn out by Garuda, who took him away and began to eat him on the peak
of the mountain. At that moment a rain of flowers fell from heaven,
and Garuda was astonished when he saw it, wondering what it could mean.
In the meanwhile Sankachúda came there, having worshipped Gokarna, and
saw the rock of execution sprinkled with many drops of blood; then he
thought--"Alas! surely that great-hearted one has offered himself for
me, so I wonder where Garuda has taken him in this short time. I must
search for him quickly, perhaps I may find him." Accordingly the good
snake went following up the track of the blood. And in the meanwhile
Garuda, seeing that Jímútaváhana was pleased, left off eating and
thought with wonder: "This must be some one else, other than I ought
to have taken, for though I am eating him, he is not at all miserable,
on the contrary the resolute one rejoices." While Garuda was thinking
this, Jímútaváhana, though in such a state, said to him in order to
attain his object: "O king of birds, in my body also there is flesh
and blood; then why have you suddenly stopped eating, though your
hunger is not appeased?" When he heard that, that king of birds, being
overpowered with astonishment, said to him--"Noble one, you are not
a snake, tell me who you are." Jímútaváhana was just answering him,
"I am a snake, [350] so eat me, complete what you have begun, for men
of resolution never leave unfinished an undertaking they have begun,"
when Sankachúda arrived and cried out from afar, "Stop, stop, Garuda,
he is not a snake, I am the snake meant for you, so let him go,
alas! how have you suddenly come to make this mistake?" On hearing
that, the king of birds was excessively bewildered, and Jímútaváhana
was grieved at not having accomplished his desire. Then Garuda,
learning, in the course of their conversation [351] with one another,
that he had begun to devour by mistake the king of the Vidyádharas,
was much grieved. He began to reflect, "Alas! in my cruelty I have
incurred sin. In truth those who follow evil courses easily contract
guilt. But this great-hearted one who has given his life for another,
and despising [352] the world, which is altogether under the dominion
of illusion, come to face me, deserves praise." Thinking thus,
he was about to enter the fire to purify himself from guilt, when
Jímútaváhana said to him: "King of birds, why do you despond? If you
are really afraid of guilt, then you must determine never again to
eat these snakes: and you must repent of eating all those previously
devoured, for this is the only remedy available in this case, it
was idle for you ever to think of any other." Thus Jímútaváhana,
full of compassion for creatures, said to Garuda, and he was pleased
and accepted the advice of that king, as if he had been his spiritual
preceptor, determining to do what he recommended; and he went to bring
nectar from heaven to restore to life rapidly that wounded prince,
and the other snakes, whose bones only remained. Then the goddess
Gaurí, pleased with Jímútaváhana's wife's devotion to her, came in
person and rained nectar on him: by that his limbs were reproduced
with increased beauty, and the sound of the drums of the rejoicing
gods was heard at the same time. Then, on his rising up safe and
sound, Garuda brought the nectar of immortality [353] from heaven,
and sprinkled it along the whole shore of the sea. That made all the
snakes there rise up alive, and then that forest along the shore of the
sea, crowded with the numerous tribe of snakes, appeared like Pátála
[354] come to behold Jímútaváhana, having lost its previous dread
of Garuda. Then Jímútaváhana's relations congratulated him, having
seen that he was glorious with unwounded body and undying fame. And
his wife rejoiced with her relations, and his parents also. Who
would not joy at pain ending in happiness? And with his permission
Sankachúda departed to Rasátala, [355] and without it his glory, of
its own accord, spread through the three worlds. Then, by virtue of the
favour of the daughter of the Himálaya all his relations, Matanga and
others, who were long hostile to him, came to Garuda, before whom the
troops of gods were inclining out of love, and timidly approaching the
glory of the Vidyádhara race, prostrated themselves at his feet. And
being entreated by them, the benevolent Jímútaváhana went from that
Malaya mountain to his own home, the slope of the Himálaya. There,
accompanied by his parents and Mitrávasu and Malayavatí, the resolute
one long enjoyed the honour of emperor of the Vidyádharas. Thus
a course of fortunate events always of its own accord follows the
footsteps of all those, whose exploits arouse the admiration of the
three worlds. When the queen Vásavadattá heard this story from the
mouth of Yaugandharáyana, she rejoiced, as she was eager to hear of
the splendour of her unborn son. Then, in the society of her husband,
she spent that day in conversation about her son, who was to be the
future king of the Vidyádharas, which was suggested by that story, for
she placed unfailing reliance upon the promise of the favouring gods.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Then Vásavadattá on the next day said to the king of Vatsa in private,
while he was surrounded by his ministers;--"My husband, ever since
I have been pregnant with this child, the difficult duty of taking
care of it afflicts my heart; and last night, after thinking over
it long, I fell asleep with difficulty, and I am persuaded I saw a
certain man come in my dream, glorious with a shape distinguished by
matted auburn locks and a trident-bearing hand; and he approaching me,
said as if moved by compassion,--'My daughter, you need not feel at all
anxious about the child with which you are pregnant, I will protect it,
for I gave it to you. And hear something more, which I will tell you
to make you confide in me; a certain woman waits to make a petition
to you to-morrow, she will come dragging her husband with her as a
prisoner, reviling him, accompanied by five sons, begirt with many
relations: and she is a wicked woman who desires by the help of her
relations to get that husband of hers put to death, and all that
she will say will be false. And you, my daughter, must beforehand
inform the king of Vatsa about this matter, in order that that good
man may be freed from that wicked wife.' This command that august one
gave and vanished, and I immediately woke up, and lo! the morning had
come." When the queen had said that, all spoke of the favour of Siva,
and were astonished, their minds eagerly expecting the fulfilment
of the dream; when lo! at that very moment the chief warder entered,
and suddenly said to the king of Vatsa, who was compassionate to the
afflicted, "O king, a certain woman has come to make a representation,
accompanied by her relations, bringing with her five sons, reviling
her helpless husband." When the king heard that, being astonished at
the way it tallied with the queen's dream, he commanded the warder
to bring her into his presence. And the queen Vásavadattá felt the
greatest delight, having become certain that she would obtain a good
son, on account of the truth of the dream. Then that woman entered by
the command of the warder, accompanied by her husband, looked at with
curiosity by all, who had their faces turned towards the door. Then,
having entered, she assumed an expression of misery, and making a
bow according to rule, she addressed the king in council accompanied
by the queen: "This man, though he is my husband, does not give to
me, helpless woman that I am, food, raiment, and other necessaries,
and yet I am free from blame with respect to him."
When she had said this, her husband pleaded--"King, this woman speaks
falsely, supported by her relations, for she wishes me to be put
to death. For I have given her supplies beforehand to last till the
end of the year, and other relations of hers, who are impartial, are
prepared to witness the truth of this for me." When he had said this
to the king, the king of his own accord answered: "The trident-bearing
god himself has given evidence in this case, appearing to the queen
in a dream. What need have we of more witnesses? This woman with her
relations must be punished." When the king had delivered this judgment,
the discreet Yaugandharáyana said, "Nevertheless, king, we must do
what is right in accordance with the evidence of witnesses, otherwise
the people, not knowing of the dream, would in no wise believe in the
justice of our proceedings." When the king heard that, he consented
and had the witnesses summoned that moment, and they, being asked,
deposed that that woman was speaking falsely. Then the king banished
her, as she was plotting against one well known to be a good husband,
from his territory, with her relations and her sons. And with heart
melting from pity he discharged her good husband, after giving him
much treasure sufficient for another marriage. And in connexion with
the whole affair the king remarked,--"An evil wife, of wildly [356]
cruel nature, tears her still living husband like a she-wolf, when he
has fallen into the pit of calamity; but an affectionate, noble, and
magnanimous wife averts sorrow as the shade [357] of the wayside-tree
averts heat, and is acquired by a man's special merits." Then
Vasantaka, who was a clever story-teller, being at the king's side,
said to him à propos of this: "Moreover, king, hatred and affection
are commonly produced in living beings in this world owing to their
continually recalling the impressions of a past state of existence,
and in proof of this, hear the story which I am about to tell."
Story of Sinhaparákrama.
There was a king in Benares named Vikramachanda, and he had a favourite