The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
"If this friend of mine could by any endeavour on your part be freed
from his monkey condition, then my beloved, you would have done a good
deed." When he told her this, Anurágapará said to him--"This is in
the way of witches' spells, but it is not our province. Nevertheless
I will accomplish this desire of yours, by asking a friend of mine,
a skilful witch named Bhadrarúpá. When the merchant's son heard that,
he was delighted, and said to that beloved of his--"So come and see
my friend, let us go to visit him." She consented, and the next day,
carried in her lap, Nischayadatta went through the air to the wood,
which was the residence of his friend. When he saw his friend there
in monkey form, he went up to him with his wife, who bowed before
him, and asked after his welfare. And the monkey Somasvámin welcomed
him, saying--"It is well with me to-day, in that I have beheld you
united to Anurágapará," and he gave his blessing to Nischayadatta's
wife. Then all three sat down on a charming slab of rock there, and
held a conversation [557] about his story, the various adventures of
that ape, previously discussed by Nischayadatta with his beloved. Then
Nischayadatta took leave of that monkey, and went to the house of
his beloved, flying up into the air, carried by her in her arms.
And the next day he again said to that Anurágapará, "Come, let us go
for a moment to visit that ape our friend;" then she said to him--"Go
to-day yourself, receive from me the science of flying up, and also
that of descending." When she had said this to him, he took those two
sciences, and flew through the air to his friend the ape. And as he
remained long conversing with him, Anurágapará went out of the house
into the garden. While she was seated there, a certain Vidyádhara
youth, who was wandering at will through the air, came there. The
Vidyádhara, knowing by his art that she was a Vidyádharí who had
a mortal husband, the moment he beheld her, was overpowered with a
paroxysm of love, and approached her. And she, with face bent on the
ground, beheld that he was handsome and attractive, and slowly asked
him out of curiosity, who he was and whence he came. Then he answered
her, "Know, fair one, that I am a Vidyádhara, by name Rágabhanjana,
distinguished for my knowledge of the sciences of the Vidyádharas. The
moment I beheld you, O gazelle-eyed one, I was suddenly overpowered
by love, and made your slave, so cease to honour, O goddess, a mortal,
whose abode is the earth, and favour me, your equal, before your father
finds out your intrigue." When he said this, the fickle-hearted one,
looking timidly at him with a sidelong glance, thought--"Here is a fit
match for me." When he had thus ascertained her wishes, he made her
his wife: when two are of one mind, what more does secret love require?
Then Nischayadatta arrived from the presence of Somasvámin, after that
Vidyádhara had departed. And when he came, Anurágapará, having lost
her love for him, did not embrace him, giving as an excuse that she had
a headache. But the simple-minded man, bewildered by love, not seeing
through her excuse, thought that her pain was due to illness and spent
the day in that belief. But the next day, he again went in low spirits
to see his friend the ape, flying through the air by the force of the
two sciences he possessed. When he had gone, Anurágapará's Vidyádhara
lover returned to her, having spent a sleepless night without her. And
embracing round the neck her, who was eager for his arrival owing to
having been separated during the night, he was at length overcome
by sleep. She by the power of her science concealed her lover, who
lay asleep in her lap, and weary with having kept awake all night,
went to sleep herself. In the meanwhile Nischayadatta came to the
ape, and his friend, welcoming him, asked him--"Why do I seem to see
you in low spirits to-day? Tell me." Then Nischayadatta said to that
ape, "Anurágapará is exceedingly ill, my friend; for that reason I
am grieved, for she is dearer to me than life." Then that ape, who
possessed supernatural knowledge, said to him--"Go, take her in your
arms asleep as she is, and flying through the air by the help of the
science she bestowed, bring her to me, in order that I may this very
day shew you a great marvel." When Nischayadatta heard this, he went
through the air and lightly took up that sleeping fair, but he did not
see that Vidyádhara, who was asleep in her lap, and had been previously
made invisible by the power of her science. And flying up into the air,
he quickly brought Anurágapará to that ape. That ape, who possessed
divine insight, immediately shewed him a charm, by which he was able
to behold the Vidyádhara clinging to her neck. When he saw this, he
exclaimed--"Alas! what does this mean?" And the ape, who was able to
discern the truth, told him the whole story. Then Nischayadatta fell
into a passion, and the Vidyádhara, who was the lover of his wife,
woke up, and flying up into the air, disappeared. Then Anurágapará
woke up, and seeing that her secret was revealed, stood with face cast
down through shame. Then Nischayadatta said to her with eyes gushing
with tears--"Wicked female, how could you thus deceive me who reposed
confidence in you? Although a device is known in this world for fixing
that exceedingly fickle metal quicksilver, no expedient is known for
fixing the heart of a woman." While he was saying this, Anurágapará,
at a loss for an answer, and weeping, slowly soared up into the air,
and went to her own home.
Then Nischayadatta's friend, the ape, said to him--"That you are
grieved is the fruit of the fierce fire of passion, in that you ran
after this fair one, though I tried to dissuade you. For what reliance
can be placed on fickle fortunes and fickle women? So cease your
regret. Be patient now. For even the Disposer himself cannot o'erstep
destiny." When Nischayadatta heard this speech from the ape, he flung
aside that delusion of grief, and abandoning passion, fled to Siva as
his refuge. Then, as he was remaining in that wood with his friend the
ape, it happened that a female hermit of the name of Mokshadá came near
him. She seeing him bowing before her, proceeded to ask him--"How comes
this strange thing to pass that, though a man, you have struck up a
friendship with this ape?" Then he related to her his own melancholy
story and afterwards the sad tale of his friend, and thereupon thus
said to her; "If you, reverend lady, know any incantation or spell
by which it can be done, immediately release this excellent Bráhman,
my friend, from his ape-transformation." When she heard that, she
consented, and employing a spell, she loosed the string from his
neck, and Somasvámin abandoned that monkey form and became a man as
before. Then she disappeared like lightning, clothed with celestial
brightness, and in time Nischayadatta and the Bráhman Somasvámin,
having performed many austerities, attained final beatitude.
"Thus fair ones, naturally fickle, bring about a series of evil actions
which produce true discernment, and aversion to the world. But here and
there you will find a virtuous one among them, who adorns a glorious
family, as the streak of the moon the broad sky."
When Naraváhanadatta, accompanied by Ratnaprabhá, heard this wonderful
tale from the mouth of Gomukha, he was highly pleased.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Then Marubhúti, perceiving that Naraváhanadatta was pleased with the
tale of Gomukha, in order to rival him, said, "Women are generally
fickle, but not always, for even hetæræ are seen to be rich in
good qualities, much more others; in proof of this, king, hear this
famous tale."
Story of king Vikramáditya and the hetæra.
There was in Pátaliputra a king named Vikramáditya; he had two
cherished friends the king Hayapati, [558] and the king Gajapati, [559]
who had large armies of horse and elephants. And that proud sovereign
had a mighty enemy named Narasinha [560] the lord of Pratishthána, a
king who had a large force of infantry. Being angry with that enemy,
and puffed up on account of the power of his allies, Vikramáditya
rashly made this vow--"I will so completely conquer that king, the lord
of men, that the heralds and bards shall proclaim him at the door as my
slave." Having made this vow, he summoned those allies, Hayapati and
Gajapati, and accompanied with a large force, shaking the earth with
elephants and horses, marched with them to make a fierce attack on the
lord of men, Narasinha. When he arrived near Pratishthána, Narasinha,
the lord of men, put on his armour and went out to meet him. Then
there took place between the two kings a battle that excited wonder,
in which footmen fought with elephants and horses. And at last the
army of Vikramáditya was routed by the forces of Narasinha, the lord
of men, which contained many crores of footmen. And Vikramáditya,
being routed, fled to his city Pátaliputra, and his two allies fled
to their own countries. And Narasinha, the lord of men, entered his
own city Pratishthána, accompanied by heralds who praised his might.
Then Vikramáditya, not having gained his end, thought--"Well! as
that enemy is not to be conquered by arms, I will conquer him by
policy; let some blame me if they like, but let not my oath be made
void." Thus reflecting, he entrusted his kingdom to suitable ministers,
and secretly went out of the city with one chief minister, named
Buddhivara, and with five hundred well-born and brave Rájpúts and in
the disguise of a candidate for service, [561] went to Pratishthána,
the city of his enemy. There he entered the splendid mansion of a
beautiful hetæra named Madanamálá, that resembled the palace of a
king. It seemed to invite him with the silk of its banners, hoisted
on the pinnacles of high ramparts, the points of which waved to and
fro in the soft breeze. It was guarded at the principal entrance, the
east door, day and night, by twenty thousand footmen, equipped with all
kinds of weapons. At each of the other three doors, looking towards
the other cardinal points, it was defended by ten thousand warriors
ever on the qui vive. In such guise the king entered, proclaimed by
the warders, the enclosure of the palace, which was divided into seven
zones. In one zone it was adorned with many long lines of horses. In
another the path was impeded by dense troops of elephants. In another
it was surrounded with an imposing array of dense weapons. In another
it was resplendent with many treasure-houses, that gleamed with the
flash of jewels. In another a circle was always formed by a dense
crowd of attendants. In another it was full of the noise of many
bards reciting aloud, and in another resounding with the sound of
drums beaten in concert. Beholding all these sights the king at last
reached, with his retinue, the splendid edifice in which Madanamálá
dwelt. She having heard with great interest from her attendants that,
as he passed through the zones, the horses and other creatures were
cured of their wounds, [562] thought that he must be some great one
in disguise, and so she went to meet him, and bowed before him with
love and curiosity, and bringing him in, seated him on a throne fit
for a king. The king's heart was ravished by her beauty, gracefulness
and courtesy, and he saluted her without revealing who he was. Then
Madanamálá honoured that king with costly baths, flowers, perfumes,
garments and ornaments. And she gave daily subsistence to those
followers of his, and feasted him and his minister with all kinds
of viands. And she spent the day with him in drinking, and other
diversions, and surrendered herself to him, having fallen in love
with him at first sight. Vikramáditya, being thus entertained by her,
day by day, continued, though in disguise, to live in a style suited