The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
sir, and what is this wonderful city of yours? Tell me." That man,
when he heard that, began to tell his own story.
Story of the two brothers Pránadhara and Rájyadhara.
There is a city named Kánchí possessed of great excellences, [613]
which, like a girdle, well adorns the earth-bride. In it there was a
famous king of the name of Báhubala, who won fortune by the might of
his arm, and imprisoned her in his treasury, though she is a gadding
dame. We were two brothers in his kingdom, carpenters by trade, skilful
in making ingenious automata of wood and other materials, such as
Maya [614] first invented. My elder brother was by name Pránadhara,
and he was infatuated with love for a fickle dame, and I, my lord,
am named Rájyadhara, and I was ever devoted to him. That brother of
mine consumed all my father's property and his own, and some portion
of what I had acquired, which melted by affection I made over to
him. Then he, being much infatuated about the lady, out of desire
to steal wealth for her sake, made a couple of swans of wood with
mechanism and strings attached to them. That pair of swans was sent
out at night by pulling the strings, and entering by means of the
mechanical contrivance into the king's treasury through a window, they
took from it with their beaks jewels placed in a basket, and returned
to the house of my brother. And my elder brother sold the jewels and
spent the money so acquired with his paramour, and in that way he
robbed the king's treasury every night, and though I tried to prevent
him, he would not give up that improper proceeding, for who, when
blinded by passion, distinguishes between right and wrong? And then
the keeper of the treasury, as the king's treasure-house was plundered
night after night without the bolt being moved, though there were no
mice in it, for several days in succession enquired into the matter,
without saying anything, out of fear, and then being exceedingly
vexed, went and told the whole matter plainly to the king. Then the
king posted him and some other guards in the treasure-house at night,
with orders to keep awake in order to find out the truth of it. Those
guards went into the treasure-house at midnight, and while there,
saw my brother's two swans entering there by the window, impelled
by strings. The swans moved round by means of their mechanism and
took the jewels, then the guards cut the strings, and took the swans
to shew the king in the morning. And then my elder brother said in a
state of bewilderment--"Brother, my two swans have been seized by the
guards of the treasury, for the strings have become slack, and the
pin of the mechanism has dropped. So we must both of us leave this
place immediately, for the king, when he hears of it in the morning,
will punish us as thieves. For we are both known to be skilled in
mechanical contrivances. And I have here a chariot with a pneumatic
contrivance, which quickly goes eight hundred yojanas, if you press
a spring. Let us go by means of it to-day to a distant foreign land,
though exile may be disagreeable; for how can an evil deed, that is
done in despite of good advice, bring pleasure to any one? This is
the mature fruit of my wickedness in not obeying your advice, which
has extended to innocent you, as well as to me." After saying this, my
brother Pránadhara immediately mounted with his family that chariot,
that flew through the air. But though he urged me, I would not mount
it, as it was laden with many people, so he flew up in it to the sky
and went off to some distant place.
When that Pránadhara, [615] who was rightly named, had gone
off somewhere, I, expecting that in the morning I singly should
he exposed to danger at the hands of the king, mounted another
chariot with a pneumatic mechanism, which I had myself made, and
quickly travelled two hundred yojanas from that place. Then I again
started that air-travelling chariot, and went another two hundred
yojanas. Then I left my chariot, terrified at finding that I was near
the sea, and travelling on my feet, reached in course of time this
city which was empty. And out of curiosity I entered this palace,
which was filled with garments, ornaments, and couches and all the
other conveniences fit for a king. And in the evening I bathed in the
water of the garden-lake, and ate fruits, and going to the royal bed
reflected alone at night--"What am I to do in this uninhabited spot? So
to-morrow I will go hence to some place or other, for I no longer need
fear danger from king Báhubala." When I had thus reflected, I went
to sleep, and towards the end of night a hero of divine appearance,
mounted on a peacock, thus addressed me in a dream; "You must live
here, good sir, you must not depart elsewhere, and at the time of meals
you must go up to the middle court of the palace, and wait there." Thus
he spoke, and disappeared, and I woke up and reflected--"Undoubtedly
this heavenly place has been made by Kártikeya, and he has favoured
me with this dream on account of my merits in a former life. I have
turned up here because I am to be happy dwelling in this town." I
conceived this hope and rose up, and said the prayer for the day,
and at the time of eating I went up to the middle court, and while
I was waiting there, golden dishes were placed in front of me, and
there fell into them from heaven food consisting of ghee, milk, rice,
boiled rice and other things; [616] and any other kinds of food that I
thought of, came to me as fast as I thought of them. After eating all
this, I felt comforted by the favour of the god. So, my lord, I took
up my abode in this city, with kingly luxuries coming to me every day
as fast as I wished for them. But I do not obtain wives and retinue
by thinking of them, so I made all these people of wood. Though I am
a carpenter, since I have come here I enjoy alone all the pleasures
of a king by the power of Destiny, and my name is Rájyadhara. [617]
"So repose, now, a day in this god-built town, and I will attend upon
you to the best of my ability." After saying this, Rájyadhara led off
with him Naraváhanadatta and Gomukha to the city garden, there the
prince bathed in the water of the lake and offered lotuses to Siva,
and was conducted to the feasting-place in the middle court, and there
he and his minister enjoyed viands which were placed before them by
Rájyadhara, who stood in front of them, to whom they came as soon as
he thought of them. Then the eating-ground was swept by some unseen
hand, and after they had taken betel, they drank wine and remained
in great felicity. And after Rájyadhara had eaten, the prince retired
to a gorgeous couch, astonished at the wonderful nature of the town,
which resembled the philosopher's stone. And when he could not sleep,
on account of his recently conceived longing for Karpúriká, Rájyadhara,
who was also in bed, asked her story, and then said to him--"Why do
you not sleep, auspicious sir? You will obtain your desired love. For
a fair woman, like Fortune, of her own accord chooses a man of high
courage. I have had ocular proof of this, so hear the story; I will
relate it to you."
Story of Arthalobha and his beautiful wife.
That king of Kánchí, Báhubala, whom I mentioned to you, had a rich
door-keeper, rightly named Arthalobha. [618] He had a beautiful wife
named Mánapará. That Arthalobha, being by profession a merchant, and on
account of his avarice distrusting his servants, appointed that wife of
his to look after his business in preference to them. She, though she
did not like it, being obedient to him, made bargains with merchants
and captivated all men by her sweet form and speech. And Arthalobha,
seeing that all the sales of elephants, horses, jewels, and garments
that she made, brought in a profit, rejoiced exceedingly. And once on
a time there came there from a distant foreign land a merchant, named
Sukhadhana, having a large stock of horses and other commodities. The
moment Arthalobha heard that he had come, he said to his wife--"My
dear, a merchant named Sukhadhana has arrived from a foreign land,
he has brought twenty thousand horses, and innumerable pairs of
excellent garments made in China, so please, go and purchase from
him five thousand horses and ten thousand pairs of garments, in order
that with the thousands of horses I already possess and those other
five, I may pay a visit to the king, and carry on my commerce. When
commissioned in these words by that villain Arthalobha, Mánapará
went to Sukhadhana; whose eyes were captivated by her beauty, and who
welcomed her gladly. And she demanded from him for a price those horses
and garments. The merchant, overpowered with love, took her aside
and said to her--"I will not give you one horse or garment for money,
but if you will remain one night with me, I will give you five hundred
horses and five thousand garments." After saying this, he solicited
that fair one with even a larger amount; who does not fall in love with
women, who are allowed to go about without restraint? Then she answered
him--"I will ask my husband about this, for I know he will send me here
out of excessive cupidity. [619]" After saying this, she went home,
and told her husband what the merchant Sukhadhana had said to her
secretly. And that wicked covetous husband Arthalobha said to her;
"My dear, if you obtain five hundred horses and five thousand pairs
of garments for one night, what is the harm in it. So go to him now;
you shall return quickly in the morning." When Mánapará heard this
speech of her mean-spirited husband's, she began to debate in her
heart, and thus reflected--"Out on this base spiritless husband
of mine that sells his honour! By continually meditating on gain
he has become all made up of the desire of gain. It is better that
the generous man, who buys me for one night with hundreds of horses
and thousands of pieces of China silk, should be my husband." Thus
reflecting, she took leave of her base husband, saying; "It is not
my fault," and went to the house of that Sukhadhana. And he, when he
saw that she had come, after questioning her and hearing the whole
story from her, was astonished, and considered himself fortunate in
obtaining her. And he sent off immediately to her husband Arthalobha
the horses and garments that were to purchase her, as agreed upon. And
he remained that night with her, having all his wishes attained, for
she seemed like the fortune which was the fruit of his own wealth,
incarnate in bodily form, at last obtained by him. And in the morning
the base Arthalobha sent, in his shamelessness, servants to summon
her, whereupon Mánapará said to them, "How can I again return to be
the wife of that man who sold me to another? I am not as shameless as
he is. Tell me yourselves if this would be becoming now. So depart,
the man that bought me is my husband." When the servants were thus
addressed by her, they went and repeated her words to Arthalobha with
downcast faces. The mean fellow, when he heard it, wanted to recover
her by force; then a friend of the name of Harabala said to him;
"You cannot recover her from that Sukhadhana, for he is a hero, and I
do not behold in you manliness corresponding to his. For he is moved
to heroism by a woman that loves him on account of his generosity,
and he is mighty, and surrounded with other mighty men that have come
with him. But you have been deserted by your wife, who separated from
you because you sold her out of meanness, and scorn makes you timid,
and being reproached you have become effeminate. Moreover you are not
mighty, and you are not surrounded by mighty friends, so how can you
possibly be capable of vanquishing that rival? And the king will be
angry with you, when he hears of your crime of selling your wife; so