The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
immorality on her part. And then he perceived the whole occurrence
by the power of contemplation, and after lovingly comforting her,
departed thence with her. And he went and told the king, who bowed
before him, the whole treacherous drama, which the head queen
had got up out of hatred for her rival. At that moment the barber
himself arrived, and related the whole occurrence to the king, and
then proceeded to say this to him; "In this way, my sovereign, I sent
away the lady Kadalígarbhá, and so delivered her from the danger of
the incantations which would have been practised against her, since I
satisfied the head queen by an artifice." When the king heard that,
he saw that the speech of the great hermit was certainly true, and
he took back Kadalígarbhá, recovering his confidence in her. And
after respectfully accompanying the departing hermit, he rewarded
the barber with wealth, thinking that he was attached to his person:
kings are the appointed prey of rogues. Then the king, being averse
to the society of his queen, lived in great comfort with Kadalígarbhá.
"Many false accusations of this kind do rival wives bring, O
Kalingasená of irreproachable beauty. And you are a maiden, the
auspicious moment of whose marriage is fixed at a distant date, and
even the gods, whose goings transcend our thought, are in love with
you. So do you yourself preserve yourself now, as the one jewel of
the world, dedicated to the king of Vatsa only, from all assaults,
for your own excellence brings you enmity. I indeed, my friend, shall
never return to you, since you are now established in the palace of
your husband: good women do not visit the house of a friend's husband,
O fair one! besides I have been forbidden by my own lord. And it is
not possible for me to come here secretly, induced by my affection
for you, inasmuch as my husband possesses divine insight and would
find it out; with difficulty in truth did I obtain his permission to
come here to-day. And since I can be of no use to you now, my friend,
I will return home, but if my husband should give me permission,
I will come here again, disregarding modesty." Thus Somaprabhá,
the daughter of the Asura king, spake weeping to Kalingasená, the
daughter of the mortal king, whose face also was washed with tears,
and after embracing her, departed swiftly to her own palace, as the
day was passing away.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Then the princess Kalingasená, who had deserted her own country and
relations, remembering her dear friend Somaprabhá who had left her,
and finding the great festival of her marriage with the king of
Vatsa delayed, remained in Kausámbí like a doe that had strayed from
the forest.
And the king of Vatsa, feeling a little bitter against the astrologers,
who were so dexterous in deferring the marriage of Kalingasená,
being despondent with love-longing, went that day to divert his mind,
to the private apartments of Vásavadattá. There the queen, who had
been tutored beforehand by the excellent minister, let fall no sign
of anger, but shewed especial sedulity in honouring her husband with
her usual attentions. And the king, wondering how it was that, even
though she knew the episode of Kalingasená, the queen was not angry,
being desirous of knowing the cause, said to her; "Do you know, queen,
that a princess named Kalingasená has come here to choose me for her
husband?" The moment she heard it, she answered, without changing the
hue of her countenance, "I know it; I am exceedingly delighted, for in
her the goddess of Fortune has come to our house; for by gaining her
you will also get her father Kalingadatta under your influence, and
the earth will be more completely in your power. Now I am delighted
on account of his great power and your pleasure, and long ago did
I know this circumstance with regard to you. So am I not fortunate,
since I have such a husband as you, whom princesses fall in love with,
that are themselves sought by other kings?" When thus addressed by
queen Vásavadattá, who had been previously tutored by Yaugandharáyana,
the king rejoiced in his heart. And after enjoying a drinking-bout
with her, he slept that night in her apartments, and waking up in
the morning he reflected--"What, does the magnanimous queen obey
me so implicitly as even to acquiesce in having Kalingasená for a
rival? But how could this same proud woman endure her, since it was
owing to the special favour of destiny that she did not yield her
breath, even when I married Padmávatí? So, if anything were to happen
to her, it would be utter ruin; upon her hang the lives of my son,
my brother-in-law, my father-in-law, and Padmávatí, and the welfare
of the kingdom; what higher tribute can I pay her? So how can I marry
that Kalingasená?" Thus reflecting the king of Vatsa left her chamber
at the close of night, and the next day went to the palace of queen
Padmávatí. She too, having been taught her lesson by Vásavadattá,
shewed him attentions after the very same fashion, and when questioned
by him, gave a similar answer. The next day the king, thinking over the
sentiments and speeches of the queens, which were completely in unison,
commended them to Yaugandharáyana. And the minister Yaugandharáyana,
who knew how to seize the right moment, seeing that the king was
plunged in doubt, spake slowly to him as follows--"I know well,
the matter does not end where you think, there is a terrible resolve
here. For the queens spoke thus, because they are steadfastly bent
on surrendering their lives. Chaste women, when their beloved is
attached to another, or has gone to heaven, become careless about
all enjoyments, and determined to die, though their intentions are
inscrutable on account of the haughtiness of their character. For
matrons cannot endure the interruption of a deep affection; and in
proof of this hear now, O king, this story of Srutasena."
The story of Srutasena.
There lived long ago in the Dekhan, in a city called Gokarna, a king
named Srutasena, who was the ornament of his race, and possessed of
learning. And this king, though his prosperity was complete, had yet
one source of sorrow, that he had not as yet obtained a wife who was
a suitable match for him. And once on a time the king, while brooding
over that sorrow, began to talk about it, and was thus addressed
by a Bráhman, named Agnisarman: "I have seen two wonders, O king, I
will describe them to you: listen! Having gone on a pilgrimage to all
the sacred bathing-places, I reached that Panchatírthí, in which five
Apsarases were reduced to the condition of crocodiles by the curse of
a holy sage, and were rescued from it by Arjuna, who had come there
while going round the holy spots. There I bathed in the blessed water,
which possesses the power of enabling those men, who bathe in it and
fast for five nights, to become followers of Náráyana. And while I
was departing, I beheld a cultivator in the middle of a field, who
had furrowed the earth with his plough, singing. That cultivator was
asked about the road by a certain wandering hermit, who had come that
way, but did not hear what he said, being wholly occupied with his
song. Then the hermit was angry with that cultivator, and began to
talk in a distracted manner; and the cultivator, stopping his song,
said to him--'Alas! though you are a hermit, you will not learn even
a fraction of virtue; even I, though a fool, have discovered what is
the highest essence of virtue.' When he heard that, the hermit asked
him out of curiosity--'What have you discovered?' And the cultivator
answered him--'Sit here in the shade, and listen while I tell you
a tale.'
Story of the three Bráhman brothers.
In this land there were three Bráhman brothers, Brahmadatta,
Somadatta, and Visvadatta of holy deeds. Of these the two eldest
possessed wives, but the youngest was unmarried; he remained as
their servant without being angry, obeying their orders along with
me; for I was their ploughman. And those elder brothers thought
that he was soft, and devoid of intellect, good, not swerving from
the right path, simple, and unenterprising. Then, once on a time,
the youngest brother Visvadatta was solicited by his two brothers'
wives who fell in love with him, but he rejected their advances as
if each of them had been his mother. Then they both of them went
and said falsely to their own husbands, "This younger brother of
yours makes love to us in secret." This speech made those two
elder brothers cherish anger against him in their hearts, for
men bewildered by the speeches of wicked women, do not know the
difference between truth and falsehood. Then those brothers said
once on a time to Visvadatta--"Go and level that ant-hill in the
middle of the field!" He said--"I will"--and went and proceeded to
dig up the ant-hill with his spade, though I said to him, "Do not do
it, a venomous snake lives there." Though he heard what I said, he
continued to dig at the ant-hill, exclaiming--"Let what will happen,
happen," for he would not disobey the order of his two elder brothers,
though they wished him ill. Then, while he was digging it up, he got
out of it a pitcher filled with gold, and not a venomous snake, for
virtue is an auxiliary to the good. So he took that pitcher and gave
it all to his elder brothers out of his constant affection for them,
though I tried to dissuade him. But they sent assassins, hiring them
with a portion of that gold, and had his hands and feet cut off,
in their desire to seize his wealth. But he was free from anger,
and in spite of that treatment, did not wax wroth with his brothers,
and on account of that virtue of his, his hands and feet grew again.
'After beholding that, I renounced from that time all anger, but
you, though you are a hermit, have not even now renounced anger. The
man who is free from anger has gained heaven, behold now a proof of
this.' After saying this, the husbandman left his body and ascended to
heaven. "This is one wonder which I have seen, hear a second, O king;"
After saying this to king Srutasena, the Bráhman continued, "Then, as
I was roaming about on the shore of the sea to visit sacred places,
I reached the realm of king Vasantasena. There, as I was about to
enter an almshouse where cooked food is distributed by the king,
the Bráhmans said to me,--'Bráhman, advance not in that direction,
for there the king's daughter is present, she is called Vidyuddyotá,
and if even a hermit beholds her, he is pierced by the arrow of love,
and becoming distracted ceases to live.' Then I answered them--'This
is not wonderful to me, for I continually behold king Srutasena, who
is a second god of love. When he leaves his palace on an expedition,
or for some other purpose, women of good family are removed by guards
from any place whence they may possibly see him, for fear they should
infringe chastity.' When I said this, they knew I was a subject of
your Majesty's, and the superintendent of the house of entertainment
and the king's chaplain took me into the presence of the king,
that I might share the feast. There I saw that princess Vidyuddyotá,
looking like the incarnation of the magic art with which the god of
love bewilders the world. After a long time I mastered my confusion
at beholding her, and reflected--'If this lady were to become the
wife of our sovereign, he would forget his kingdom. Nevertheless I
must tell this tale to my master, otherwise there might take place
the incident of Devasena and Unmádiní.'
The story of Devasena and Unmádiní.
Once on a time, in the realm of king Devasena, there was a merchant's
daughter, a maiden that bewildered the world with her beauty. Her
father told the king about her, but the king did not take her in
marriage, for the Bráhmans, who wished to prevent his neglecting his