Story of Anangarati in a former birth when she was a Vidyadhari named Anangaprabha.

There is a city on the Himalayas named Virapura; and in it there dwells a sovereign of Vidyadharas named Samara. He had a daughter, named Anangaprabha, born to him by his queen Anangavati. When, in the pride of her youth and beauty, she refused to have any husband, her parents, enraged at her persistence, cursed her--

"Become a human being, and even in that state you shall not enjoy the happiness of married life. When you are a maiden of sixteen years, you shall abandon the body and come here. But an ugly mortal, who has become such by a curse, on account of his falling in love with the daughter of a hermit, and who possesses a magic sword, shall then become your husband, and he shall carry you off against your will to the world of mortals. There you, being unchaste, shall be separated from your husband. Because that husband in a former life carried off the wives of eight other men, he shall endure sorrow enough for eight births. And you, having become a mortal by the loss of your supernatural science, shall endure in that one birth the sufferings of eight births. [719] For to every one the a.s.sociation with the evil gives an evil lot, but to women the union with an evil husband is equivalent to evil. And having lost your memory of the past, you shall there take many mortal husbands, because you obstinately persisted in detesting the husband fitted for you. That Vidyadhara Madanaprabha, who, being equal in birth, demanded you in marriage, shall become a mortal king and at last become your husband. Then you shall be freed from your curse, and return to your own world, and you shall obtain that suitable match, who shall have returned to his Vidyadhara state." So that maiden Anangaprabha has become Anangarati on the earth, and returning to her parents, has once more become Anangaprabha.

"So go to Virapura and conquer in fight her father, though he is possessed of knowledge and protected by his high birth, and obtain that maiden. Now take this sword, and as long as you hold it in your hand, you will be able to travel through the air, and moreover you will be invincible." Having said this, and having given the sword to him, the G.o.ddess vanished, and he woke up, and beheld in his hand a heavenly sword. Then Jivadatta rose up delighted and praised Durga, and all the exhaustion produced by his penance was removed by the refreshment caused by the nectar of her favour. And he flew up into the air with his sword in his hand, and after roaming all round the Himalayas, he found that prince of the Vidyadharas Samara in Virapura. He conquered him in fight, and then the king gave him his daughter Anangaprabha, and he married her, and lived in heavenly felicity. And after he had remained there some time, he said to his father-in-law Samara and to his beloved Anangaprabha, "Let us two go to the world of men, for I feel a longing for it, for one's native land is exceedingly dear to living beings, even though it may be an inferior place." [720]

When the father-in-law heard that, he consented, but the far-seeing Anangaprabha was with difficulty induced to consent; then Jivadatta descended from heaven to the world of mortals, taking that Anangaprabha in his arms. And Anangaprabha, beholding there a pleasant mountain, being wearied, said to him--"Let us immediately rest here." Then he consented, and descending there with her, he produced food and drink by the power of the various sciences. Then Jivadatta, being impelled by fate, said to Anangaprabha--"Dear one, sing some sweet song." When she heard that, she began to sing devoutly the praise of Siva, and with that sound of her singing the Brahman was sent to sleep.

In the meanwhile a king, named Harivara, wearied out with hunting, came that way in search of spring-water; he was attracted by hearing the sound of that singing, as deer are attracted, and, leaving his chariot, he went there alone. The king first had happiness announced by omens, and then he beheld that Anangaprabha like the real brightness of the G.o.d of love. Then, as his heart was distracted with her song and her beauty, the G.o.d of love cleft it at will with his arrows. Anangaprabha too, seeing that he was handsome, came within the range of the G.o.d of the flowery bow, and said to herself--"Who is this? is he the G.o.d of love, without his flowery bow? Is he the incarnation of the favour of Siva towards me, he being pleased with my song?" Then maddened with love, she asked him--"Who are you, and how have you come to this forest, tell me." Then the king told her who he was, and why he had come; then he said to her, "Tell me, who are you, fair one? And who is this, O lotus-faced one, who is sleeping here?" When he asked these questions, she answered him briefly: "I am a Vidyadhari, and this is my husband, who possesses a magic sword, and now I have fallen in love with you at first sight. So come, let us quickly go to your city, before he awakes; then I will tell my story at length." When the king heard that, he agreed, and felt as much delighted as if he had obtained the sovereignty of the three worlds. And Anangaprabha hurriedly thought in her heart, "I will take this king in my arms, and quickly fly up to the heaven," but in the meanwhile her knowledge was stripped from her by her treachery to her husband; and remembering her father's curse, she became at once despondent. When the king saw that, he asked the cause, and then said to her--"This is not the time for despondency; your husband here may awake. And you ought not to lament, my beloved, over this matter which depends on destiny. For who can escape from the shadow of his own head, or the course of destiny? So come, let us depart." When the king Harivara said this, she consented to his proposal, and he took her quickly up in his arms. Then he went off quickly thence, as delighted as if he had obtained a treasure, and ascended his chariot, welcomed with joy by his servants. And he reached his city in that chariot, which travelled swift as thought, accompanied by his beloved, and he aroused curiosity in his subjects. Then king Harivara remained in heavenly enjoyments in that city, which was named after him, in the society of that Anangaprabha. And Anangaprabha remained there devotedly attached to him, forgetting all her supernatural power, bewildered by the curse.

In the meanwhile Jivadatta woke up on the mountain, and saw that not only Anangaprabha was gone, but his sword also. He thought "Where is that Anangaprabha? Alas! Where is that sword? Has she gone off with it? Or were they both carried off by some being?" In his perplexity, he made many surmises of this sort, and he searched that mountain for three days, being consumed with the fire of love. Then he came down, and wandered through the forests for ten days, but did not find a trace of her anywhere. He kept crying out--"Alas spiteful fortune, how did you carry off, together with the magic power of the sword, my beloved Anangaprabha, both which you granted with difficulty?" Thus employed he wandered about without food, and at last reached a village, and there he entered the opulent mansion of a Brahman. There the handsome and well-dressed mistress of the house, Priyadatta by name, made him sit down on a seat, and immediately gave this order to her maids--"Wash quickly the feet of this Jivadatta, for to-day is the thirteenth day that he has gone without food on account of his separation." When Jivadatta heard that, he was astonished, and reflected in his own mind--"Can Anangaprabha have come here, or is this woman a witch?" Thus he reflected, and after his feet were washed, and he had eaten the food that she gave, he humbly asked Priyadatta in his great grief--"Tell me one thing: how do you know my history, blameless one? And tell me another thing, where are my sword and my beloved gone?" When the devoted wife Priyadatta heard that, she said--"No one but my husband has any place in my heart even in a dream, my son, and I look on all other men as brothers, and no guest leaves my house without entertainment; by virtue of that I know the past, the present and the future. And that Anangaprabha of yours has been carried off by a king named Harivara, living in a town named after him, who, as destiny would have it, came that way, while you were asleep, attracted by her song. And you cannot recover her, for that king is very powerful; moreover that unchaste woman will in turn leave him and go to another man. And the G.o.ddess Durga gave you that sword only that you might obtain that lady; having accomplished that, the weapon, in virtue of its divine nature, has returned to the G.o.ddess, as the lady has been carried off. Moreover, how have you forgotten what the G.o.ddess was pleased to tell you, when she told the story of the curse of Anangaprabha? So why are you so distracted about an event, which was destined to take place? Abandon this chain of sins, which again and again produces extreme sorrow. And of what profit can be to you now, my brother, that wicked female, who is attached to another, and who has become a mortal, having lost her science by her treachery against you?" When that virtuous woman said this to Jivadatta, he abandoned all pa.s.sion for Anangaprabha, being disgusted with her fickleness, and thus answered the Brahman lady--"Mother, my delusion has been brought to an end by this true speech of thine; whom does not a.s.sociation with persons of virtuous conduct benefit? This misfortune has befallen me in consequence of my former crimes, so I will abandon jealousy, and go to holy places to wash them out. What can I gain by taking up an enmity with others on account of Anangaprabha? For one, who has conquered anger, conquers this whole world." While he was saying this, the righteous husband of Priyadatta, who was hospitable to guests, returned to the house. The husband also welcomed him, and made him forget his grief, and then he rested, and taking leave of them both, started on his pilgrimage to holy places.

Then, in course of time, he roamed round to all the holy bathing-places on the earth, enduring many toils in difficult ways, living on roots and fruits. And after visiting holy bathing-places, he went to the shrine of the dweller in the Vindhya hills; there he went through a severe penance, without food, on a bed of kusa gra.s.s. And Ambika, satisfied with his asceticism, said to him, appearing to him in bodily form--"Rise up, my son, for you four are four ganas of mine. Three are Panchamula, Chaturvaktra, and Mahodaramukha, and thou art the fourth, last in order, and thy name is Vikatavadana. You four once went to the sand of the Ganges to amuse yourselves, and saw there a hermit's daughter bathing. She was called Chapalekha, the daughter of Kapilajata. And she was solicited by all of you, distracted with love. When she said 'I am a maiden, go away all of you,' the three others remained quiet, but thou didst forcibly seize her by the arm. And she cried out--'Father, Father, deliver me.' Then the hermit, who was near, came up in wrath. Then thou didst let go her arm; then he immediately cursed you, saying--'Wicked ones, be born, all of you, as human beings.' Then you asked the hermit that the curse might end, and he said--'When the princess Anangarati shall be demanded in marriage by you, and shall go to the Vidyadhara world, then three of you shall be released from your curse. But when she has become a Vidyadhari, then thou, Vikatavadana, shalt gain her, and lose her again, and then thou shalt suffer great sorrow. But after propitiating the G.o.ddess Durga for a long time, thou shalt be released from this curse. This will happen to thee, because thou didst touch the hand of this Chapalekha, and also because thou hast much guilt attaching to thee, on account of having carried off the wives of others.' You four ganas of mine, whom that hermit thus cursed, became four heroes in the Dekhan, Panchaphuttika, and Bhashajna, and Khadgadhara, these three friends, and you the fourth Jivadatta. Now the first three, when Anangarati returned to her own place, came here, and by my favour were freed from their curse. And thou hast propitiated me now, therefore thy curse is at an end. So take this fiery meditation, and abandon this body; and consume at once the guilt, which it would take eight births to exhaust." When the G.o.ddess Durga had said this, she gave him the meditation, and disappeared. And with that meditation he burned up his wicked mortal body, and at last was freed from the curse, and became once more an excellent gana. When even G.o.ds have to endure so much suffering by a.s.sociating with the wives of others, what must be the result of it to inferior beings?

In the meanwhile Anangaprabha became head-queen in Harivara, the city of the king Harivara. And the king remained day and night with his mind fixed on her, and entrusted the great burden of his kingdom to his minister named Sumantra. And once on a time there came to that king from Madhyadesa, [721] a fresh teacher of dancing, named Labdhavara. The king, having seen his skill in music and dancing, honoured him, and made him the instructor in dancing of the ladies of the harem. He brought Anangaprabha to such excellence in dancing, that she was an object of admiration even to her rival wives. And from a.s.sociating with the professor of dancing, and from the delight she took in his teaching, she fell in love with him. And the professor of dancing, attracted by her youth and beauty, gradually learnt a new strange [722] dance, thanks to the G.o.d of Love. And once she approached the professor of dancing secretly in the dancing-hall, and being desperately in love with him, said to him--"I shall not be able to live for a moment without you, and the king Harivara, when he hears of it, will not tolerate it, so come, let us depart elsewhere, where the king will not find us out. You have wealth in the form of gold, horses, and camels, given by the king, pleased with your dancing, and I have ornaments. So let us quickly go and dwell where we shall be secure." The professor of dancing was pleased with her proposal, and consented to this. Then she put on the dress of a man, and went to the house of the professor of dancing, accompanied by one female servant, who was exceedingly devoted to her. Thence she started on horseback, with that teacher of dancing, who placed his wealth on the back of a camel. First she abandoned the splendour of the Vidyadharas, then of a throne, and now she put herself under the shelter of a bard's fortune; alas! fickle is the mind of women! And so Anangaprabha went with the teacher of dancing, and reached a distant city named Viyogapura. There she dwelt in happiness with him, and the distinguished dancer thought that by obtaining her his name of Labdhavara [723] had been justified.

And in the meanwhile king Harivara, finding out that his beloved Anangaprabha had gone somewhere or other, was ready to abandon the body out of grief. Then the minister Sumantra said to the king to comfort him, "Why do you appear as if you do not understand the matter? Consider it yourself? How, my sovereign, could you expect that a woman, who deserted a husband, that had by means of his sword obtained the power of a Vidyadhara, and repaired to you as soon as she saw you, would be faithful even to you? She has gone off with something that she has managed to get, having no desire for anything good, as one to whom a blade of gra.s.s is a sprout of jewels, falling in love at sight with a blade of gra.s.s. Certainly the teacher of dancing has gone off with her, for he is nowhere to be seen. And I hear that they both were in the concert-hall in the morning. So tell me, king; why are you so persistent about her, though you know all this? The truth is, a fickle dame is like a sunset, momentarily aglow for every one." When the minister said this to him, the king fell into a musing, and thought--"Yes, that wise man has told me the truth. For a fickle dame is like human life; connexion with her is unstable, she changes every moment, and is terrible, bringing disgust at the end. The wise man never falls into the power of deep rivers or of women, both which drown him who falls into their power, while they exhibit wanton sportfulness. Those men are truly masters of themselves, who are free from excitement about pleasures, who are not puffed up in prosperity, and who are unshrinking in dangers; such men have conquered the world." After saying this, king Harivara abandoned his grief by the advice of his minister, and remained satisfied with the society of his own wives.

And after Anangaprabha had dwelt some time with the teacher of dancing, in the city named Viyogapura, he, as fate would have it, struck up an acquaintance with a young gambler named Sudarsana; then the gambler, before the eyes of Anangaprabha, soon stripped the teacher of dancing of all his wealth. Then Anangaprabha deserted her husband, who was stripped of all his fortune, as if in anger on that account, and threw herself into the arms of Sudarsana. Then the teacher of dancing, having lost his wife and his wealth, having no refuge, in disgust with the world, matted his hair in a knot, and went to the banks of the Ganges to practise mortification of the flesh. But Anangaprabha, who was ever taking new paramours, remained with that gambler. But one night, her lord Sudarsana was robbed of all that he had by some robbers, who entered his house in the darkness. Then Sudarsana, seeing that Anangaprabha was uncomfortable and unhappy on account of their poverty, said to her: "Come and let us borrow something from a rich friend of mine, named Hiranyagupta, a distinguished merchant." After saying this, he, being deprived of his senses by destiny, went with his wife, and asked that great merchant Hiranyagupta to lend him some money. And the merchant, when he saw her, immediately fell in love with her, and she also with him, the moment that she beheld him. And the merchant said politely to Sudarsana--"To-morrow I will give you gold, but dine here to-day." When Sudarsana heard this, beholding the altered bearing of those two, he said--"I did not come here to-day to dine." Then the great merchant said--"If this be the case, at any rate let your wife dine here, my friend, for this is the first time that she has visited my house." When Sudarsana was thus addressed by him, he remained silent in spite of his cunning, and that merchant went into his house with Anangaprabha. There he indulged in drinking and other pastimes with that fair one, unexpectedly thrown in his way, who was merry with all the wantonness of wine. But Sudarsana, who was standing outside, waiting for her to come out, had the following message brought to him by the merchant's servants, in accordance with their master's orders: "Your wife has dined and gone home; you must have failed to see her going out. So what are you doing here so long? Go home." He answered--"She is within the house, she has not come out, and I will not depart." Thereupon the merchant's servants drove him away from the house with kicks. Then Sudarsana went off, and sorrowfully reflected with himself: "What! has this merchant, though my friend, robbed me of my wife? Or rather, in this very birth the fruit of my sin has in such a form fallen to my lot. For what I did to one, another has done to me. Why should I then be angry with another, when my own deeds merit anger? So I will sever the chain of works, so that I may not be again humiliated." Thus reflecting, the gambler abandoned his anger, and going to the hermitage of Badarika, [724] he proceeded to perform such austerities as would cut the bonds of mundane existence.

And Anangaprabha, having obtained that exceedingly handsome merchant for a dear husband, was as pleased as a bee that has lighted on a flower. And in course of time she attained undisputed control over the wealth, as well as over the heart of that opulent merchant, who was deeply in love with her. But the king Virabahu, though he heard of the matchless beauty residing there, did not carry her off, but remained strictly within the limits of virtue. And in course of time, the wealth of the merchant began to diminish, on account of the expenditure of Anangaprabha; for, in a house presided over by an unchaste woman, Fortune pines as well as virtuous women. Then the merchant Hiranyagupta got together wares, and went off to an island named Suvarnabhumi to trade, and he took that Anangaprabha with him, out of fear of being separated from her, and journeying on his way, he at last reached the city of Sagarapura. There he fell in with a chief of fishermen, a native of that place, Sagaravira by name, whom he found in that city near the sea. He went with that sea-faring man to the sh.o.r.e of the sea, and with his beloved embarked on a ship which he provided. And after the merchant had travelled in anxiety for some days over the sea, in that ship, accompanied by Sagaravira, one day a terrible black cloud of doom appeared, with flashing eyes of lightning, filling them with fear of destruction. Then that ship, smitten by a mighty wind, with a violent shower of rain, began to sink in the waves. That merchant Hiranyagupta, when the crew raised a cry of lamentation, and the ship began to break up like his own hopes, fastened his cloak round his loins, and looking at the face of Anangaprabha, exclaimed "Ah! my beloved, where art thou," and threw himself into the sea. And he oared himself along with his arms, and, as luck would have it, he reached a merchant-ship, and he caught hold of it, and climbed up into it.

But that Sagaravira tied together some planks with a cord, and quickly placed Anangaprabha upon them. And he himself climbed up upon them, and comforted that terrified woman, and went paddling along in the sea, throwing aside the water with his arms. And as soon as the ship had been broken to pieces, the clouds disappeared from the heaven, and the sea was calm, like a good man whose wrath is appeased. But the merchant Hiranyagupta, after climbing up into the ship, which was impelled by the wind, as fate would have it, reached in five days the sh.o.r.e of the sea. Then he went on sh.o.r.e, grieved at the loss of his beloved, but he reflected that the dispensations of Destiny were irremediable; and he went slowly home to his own city, and being of resolute soul, he recovered his self-command, and again acquired wealth, and lived in great comfort.

But Anangaprabha, seated on the plank, was piloted to the sh.o.r.e of the sea in one day by Sagaravira. And there that chief of the fishermen, consoling her, took her to his own palace in the city of Sagarapura. There Anangaprabha, reflecting that that chief of the fishermen was a hero who had saved her life, and was equal to a king in opulence, and in the prime of youth and good looks, and obedient to her orders, made him her husband: a woman who has lost her virtue does not distinguish between high and low. Then she dwelt with that chief of fishermen, enjoying in his house his wealth that he put at her disposal.

One day she saw from the roof of the palace a handsome Kshatriya youth, named Vijayavarman, going along the high street of the town. Falling in love with his good looks, she went up to him, and said--"Receive me, who am in love with you, for my mind has been fascinated by the sight of you." And he gladly welcomed that fairest woman of the three worlds, who had fallen to him, as it were, from the sky, and took her home to his house. But Sagaravira, finding that his beloved had gone somewhere or other, abandoned all, and went to the river Ganges, intending to leave the body by means of ascetic practices; and no wonder that his grief was great, for how could a man of servile caste ever have expected to obtain such a Vidyadhari? But Anangaprabha lived at ease in that very town with Vijayavarman, free from restraint.

Then, one day the king of that place, named Sagaravarman, mounted a female elephant and went out to roam round his city. And while the king was looking at that well-built city named after him, he came along the street where the house of Vijayavarman was. And Anangaprabha, finding out that the king was coming that way, went up to the top of the house, out of curiosity to behold him. And, the moment she saw the king, she fell so desperately in love with him, that she insolently exclaimed to the elephant-driver--"Mahout, I never in my life have ridden on an elephant, so give me a ride on yours, and let me see how pleasant it is." When the elephant-driver heard this, he looked at the face of the king, and in the meanwhile the king beheld her, like the splendour of the moon fallen from heaven. And the king, drinking her in with insatiate eye like a partridge, having conceived the hope of gaining her, said to his elephant-driver--"Take the elephant near and comply with her wish, and without delay seat this moon-faced dame on the elephant." When the king said this, the elephant-driver at once brought that elephant close under the house. When Anangaprabha saw that the elephant had come near, she immediately flung herself into the lap of the king Sagaravarman. How came it that, though at first she was averse to a husband, she now showed such an insatiable appet.i.te for husbands? Surely her father's curse made her exhibit a great change of character. And she clasped the king round the neck, as if afraid of falling, and he, when his limbs were irrigated with the nectar of her touch, was much delighted. And the king quickly carried off to his own palace her, who had surrendered herself by an artifice, being desirous of being kissed. There he made that Vidyadhari enter his harem, and after she had told him her story, he made her his princ.i.p.al wife. And then that young Kshatriya, finding out that she had been carried off by the king, came and attacked the king's servants outside the palace, and there he left his corpse, not turning his back in fight, for brave men do not submit to insult on account of a woman. And it seemed as if he was carried off to the abode of the G.o.ds by the nymphs of heaven, saying--"What have you to do with this contemptible woman? Come to Nandana and court us."

As for that Anangaprabha, when she had come into the possession of the king Sagaravarman, she roamed no more, but remained faithful to him, as rivers are at rest in the bosom of the sea. And owing to the force of destiny, she thought herself fortunate in having obtained that husband, and he thought that his life was complete by his having obtained her for a wife.

And in some days Anangaprabha, the queen of that king Sagaravarman, became pregnant, and in due time gave birth to a son. And the king made a great feast on account of the birth of a n.o.ble son, and gave the boy the name of Samudravarman. And when that son attained his full stature, and became a young man distinguished for might, the king appointed him crown-prince. Then he brought to his court Kamalavati the daughter of a certain king named Samaravarman, to be married to him. And when that son Samudravarman was married, the king, being impressed by his virtues, gave him his own kingdom. That brave son Samudravarman, being thoroughly acquainted with the duties of Kshatriyas, when he had obtained the kingdom, said to his father, bowing before him: "Father, give me leave to depart; I am setting out to conquer the regions. A lord of earth, that is not intent on conquest, is to be blamed as much as the effeminate husband of a woman. And in this world, only that fortune of kings is righteous and glorious, which is acquired by one's own strength after conquering the kingdoms. What is the use, father, of the sovereignty of those kings, who hold it merely for the sake of oppressing the poor? They devour their own subjects, ravenous like cats." [725] When he had said this, his father Sagaravarman replied, "Your rule, my boy, is young; so for the present secure that; no demerit or disgrace attaches to one who rules his subjects justly. And war is not meet for kings without considering their power; though, you my child, are a hero, and your army is numerous, still you ought not to rely upon the fortune of victory, which is fickle in fight." Though his father used these and similar arguments with him, the brave Samudravarman at last, with great difficulty, induced him to consent, and marched out to conquer the regions. And having conquered the regions in due course, and reduced the kings under his sway, he returned to his own city in possession of elephants, horses, gold, and other tributes. And there he humbly honoured the feet of his delighted parents with great jewels produced in various regions. And the glorious prince gave, by their orders, to the Brahmans great gifts of elephants, horses, gold and jewels. Then he showered gold in such profusion upon suppliants and servants, that the only thing in the country devoid of wealth was the word poor, which had become without meaning. [726] The king Sagaravarman, dwelling with Anangaprabha, when he beheld the glory of his son, considered that his objects in life had been accomplished.

And the king, after spending those days in feasting, said to his son Samudravarman in the presence of the ministers--"I have accomplished, my son, what I had to accomplish in this birth; I have enjoyed the pleasures of rule, I have not experienced defeat from my enemies, and I have seen you in possession of sovereignty, what else does there remain for me to obtain? So I will retire to a holy bathing-place, while my body retains strength. For see, old age whispers at the root of my ear--'Since this body is perishable, why do you still remain in your house?'" Having said this, the king Sagaravarman, all whose ends were attained, went, though his son was opposed to it, to Prayaga with his beloved. And Samudravarman escorted his father there, and, after returning to his own city, ruled it in accordance with the law.

And the king Sagaravarman, accompanied by his wife Anangaprabha, propitiated the G.o.d Siva in Prayaga with asceticism. And at the end of the night, the G.o.d said to him in a dream--"I am pleased with this penance of yourself and your wife, so hear this--This Anangaprabha and you, my son, are both of the Vidyadhara race, and to-morrow the curse will expire, and you will go to your own world." When the king heard that, he woke up, and Anangaprabha too, who had seen a similar dream, and they told their dreams to one another. And then Anangaprabha, delighted, said to the king--"My husband, I have now remembered all the history of my former birth; I am the daughter of Samara, a prince of the Vidyadharas, in the city of Virapura, and my name has always been Anangaprabha. And I came here owing to the curse of my father, having become a human being by the loss of my science, and I forgot my Vidyadhari nature. But now I have recovered consciousness of it." While she was saying this, her father Samara descended from heaven; and after he had been respectfully welcomed by the king Sagaravarman, he said to that daughter Anangaprabha, who fell at his feet, "Come, daughter, receive these sciences, your curse is at an end. For you have endured in one birth the sorrows of eight births." [727] Saying this, he took her on his lap, and gave her back the sciences; then he said to the king Sagaravarman--"You are a prince of the Vidyadharas, named Madanaprabha, and I am by name Samara, and Anangaprabha is my daughter. And long ago, when she ought to have been given in marriage, her hand was demanded by several suitors, but being intoxicated by her beauty, she did not desire any husband. Then she was asked in marriage by you, who were equal in merit, and very eager to marry her, but as fate would have it, she would not then accept even you. For that reason I cursed her, that she might go to the world of mortals. And you, being pa.s.sionately in love with her, fixed your heart on Siva the giver of boons, and wished intently that she might be your wife in the world of mortals, and then you abandoned your Vidyadhara body by magic art. Then you became a man and she became your wife. Now return to your own world linked together." When Samara said this to Sagaravarman, he, remembering his birth, abandoned his body in the water of Prayaga, [728] and immediately became Madanaprabha. And Anangaprabha was rekindled with the brightness of her recovered science, and immediately becoming a Vidyadhari, gleamed with that very body, which underwent a heavenly change. And then Madanaprabha, being delighted, and Anangaprabha also, feeling great pa.s.sion stir in both their hearts at the sight of one another's heavenly bodies, and the auspicious Samara, king of the sky-goers, all flew up into the air, and went together to that city of the Vidyadharas, Virapura. And there Samara immediately gave, with due rites, his daughter Anangaprabha to the Vidyadhara king, Madanaprabha. And Madanaprabha went with that beloved, whose curse had been cancelled, to his own city, and there he dwelt at ease.

"Thus divine beings fall by virtue of a curse, and owing to the consequences of their own wickedness, are incarnate in the world of men, and after reaping the fruit appropriate to their bad conduct, they again go to their own home on account of previously acquired merit."

When Naravahandadatta heard this tale from his minister Gomukha, he and Alankaravati were delighted, and then he performed the duties of the day.

CHAPTER LIII.

Then, on the next day, Naravahanadatta's friend Marubhuti said to him, when he was in the company of Alankaravati--"See, king, this miserable dependent [729] of yours remains clothed with one garment of leather, with matted hair, thin and dirty, and never leaves the royal gate, day or night, in cold or heat; so why do you not shew him favour at last? For it is better that a little should be given in time, than much when it is too late; so have mercy on him before he dies." When Gomukha heard this, he said--"Marubhuti speaks well, but you, king, are not the least in fault in this matter; for until a suitor's guilt, which stands in his way, is removed, a king, even though disposed to give, cannot give; but when a man's guilt is effaced, a king gives, though strenuously dissuaded from doing so; this depends upon works in a previous state of existence. And a propos of this, I will tell you, O king, the story of Lakshadatta the king, and Labdhadatta the dependent; listen."

Story of king Lakshadatta and his dependent Labdhadatta. [730]

There was on the earth a city named Lakshapura. In it there lived a king named Lakshadatta, chief of generous men. He never knew how to give a pet.i.tioner less than a lac of coins, but he gave five lacs to any one with whom he conversed. As for the man with whom he was pleased, he lifted him out of poverty, for this reason his name was called Lakshadatta. A certain dependent named Labdhadatta stood day and night at his gate, with a piece of leather for his only loin-rag. He had matted hair, and he never left the king's gate for a second, day or night, in cold, rain, or heat, and the king saw him there. And, though he remained there long in misery, the king did not give him anything, though he was generous and compa.s.sionate.

Then, one day the king went to a forest to hunt, and his dependent followed him with a staff in his hand. There, while the king seated on an elephant, armed with a bow, and followed by his army, slew tigers, bears, and deer, with showers of arrows, his dependent, going in front of him, alone on foot, slew with his staff many boars and deer. When the king saw his bravery, he thought in his heart--"It is wonderful that this man should be such a hero," but he did not give him anything. And the king, when he had finished his hunting, returned home to his city, to enjoy himself, but that dependent stood at his palace-gate as before. Once on a time, Lakshadatta went out to conquer a neighbouring king of the same family, and he had a terrible battle. And in the battle the dependent struck down in front of him many enemies, with blows from the end of his strong staff of acacia wood. And the king, after conquering his enemies, returned to his own city, and though he had seen the valour of his dependent, he gave him nothing. In this condition the dependent Labdhadatta remained, and many years pa.s.sed over his head, while he supported himself with difficulty.

And when the sixth year had come, king Lakshadatta happened to see him one day, and feeling pity for him, reflected--"Though he has been long afflicted, I have not as yet given him anything, so why should I not give him something in a disguised form, and so find out whether the guilt of this poor man has been effaced, or not, and whether even now Fortune will grant him a sight of her, or not." Thus reflecting, the king deliberately entered his treasury, and filled a citron with jewels, as if it were a casket. And he held an a.s.sembly of all his subjects, having appointed a meeting outside his palace, and there entered the a.s.sembly all his citizens, chiefs, and ministers. And when the dependent entered among them, the king said to him with an affectionate voice, "Come here;" then the dependent, on hearing this, was delighted, and coming near, he sat in front of the king. Then the king said to him--"Utter some composition of your own." Then the dependent recited the following arya verse--"Fortune ever replenishes the full man, as all the streams replenish the sea, but she never even comes within the range of the eyes of the poor." When the king had heard this, and had made him recite it again, he was pleased, and gave him the citron full of valuable jewels. And the people said, "This king puts a stop to the poverty of every one with whom he is pleased; so this dependent is to be pitied, since this very king, though pleased with him, after summoning him politely, has given him nothing but this citron; a wishing-tree, in the case of ill-starred men, often becomes a palasa-tree." [731] These were the words which all in the a.s.sembly said to one another in their despondency, when they saw that, for they did not know the truth.

But the dependent went out, with the citron in his hand, and when he was in a state of despondency, a mendicant came before him. And that mendicant, named Rajavandin, seeing that the citron was a fine one, obtained it from that dependent by giving him a garment. And then the mendicant entered the a.s.sembly, and gave that fruit to the king, and the king, recognizing it, said to that hermit, [732] "Where, reverend sir, did you procure this citron." Then he told the king that the dependent had given it to him. Then the king was grieved and astonished, reflecting that his guilt was not expiated even now. The king Lakshadatta took the citron, rose up from the a.s.sembly, and performed the duties of the day. And the dependent sold the garment, and after he had eaten and drunk, remained at his usual post at the king's gate.

And on the second day the king held a general a.s.sembly, and everybody appeared at it again, citizens and all. And the king, seeing that the dependent had entered the a.s.sembly, called him as before, and made him sit near him. And after making him again recite that very same arya verse, being pleased, he gave him that very same citron with jewels concealed in it. And all there thought with astonishment--"Ah! this is the second time that our master is pleased with him without his gaining by it. And the dependent, in despondency, took the citron in his hand, and thinking that the king's good will had again been barren of results, went out. At that very moment a certain official met him, who was about to enter that a.s.sembly, wishing to see the king. He, when he saw that citron, took a fancy to it, and regarding the omen, procured it from the dependent by giving him a pair of garments. And entering the king's court, he fell at the feet of the sovereign, and first gave him the citron, and then another present of his own. And when the king recognised the fruit, he asked the official where he got it, and he replied--"From the dependent." And the king, thinking in his heart that Fortune would not even now give the dependent a sight of her, was exceedingly sad. [733] And he rose up from the a.s.sembly with that citron, and the dependent went to the market with the pair of garments he had got. And by selling one garment he procured meat and drink, and tearing the other in half he made two of it. Then on the third day also the king held a general a.s.sembly, and all the subjects entered, as before, and when the dependent entered, the king gave him the same citron again, after calling him and making him recite the arya verse. Then all were astonished, and the dependent went out, and gave that citron to the king's mistress. And she, like a moving creeper of the tree of the king's regard, gave him gold, which was, so to speak, the flower, the harbinger of the fruit. The dependent sold it, and enjoyed himself that day, and the king's mistress went into his presence. And she gave him that citron, which was large and fine, and he, recognising it, asked her whence she procured it. Then she said--"The dependent gave it me." Hearing that, the king thought, "Fortune has not yet looked favourably upon him; his merit in a former life must have been slight, since he does not know that my favour is never barren of results. And so these splendid jewels come back to me again and again." Thus the king reflected, and he took that citron, and put it away safely, and rose up and performed the duties of the day. And on the fourth day the king held an a.s.sembly in the same way, and it was filled with all his subjects, feudatories, ministers and all. And the dependent came there again, and again the king made him sit in front of him, and when he bowed before him, the king made him recite the arya verse: and gave him the citron, and when the dependent had half got hold of it, he suddenly let it go, and the citron fell on the ground and broke in half. And as the joining of the citron, which kept it together, was broken, there rolled out of it many valuable jewels, illuminating that place of a.s.sembly. All the people, when they saw it, said, "Ah! we were deluded and mistaken, as we did not know the real state of the case, but such is the nature of the king's favour." When the king heard that, he said--"By this artifice I endeavoured to ascertain, whether Fortune would now look on him or not. But for three days his guilt was not effaced; now it is effaced, and for that reason Fortune has now granted him a sight of herself." After the king had said this, he gave the dependent those jewels, and also villages, elephants, horses and gold, and made him a feudal chief. And he rose up from that a.s.sembly, in which the people applauded, and went to bathe; and that dependent too, having obtained his ends, went to his own dwelling.

So true is it that, until a servant's guilt is effaced, he cannot obtain the favour of his master; even by going through hundreds of hardships.

When Gomukha the prime-minister had told this tale, he again said to his master Naravahanadatta; "So, king, I know that even now the guilt of that dependent of yours is not expiated, since even now you are not pleased with him." When the son of the king of Vatsa heard this speech of Gomukha's, he said, "Ha! good!" and he immediately gave to his own dependent, who was named Karpatika, a number of villages, elephants and horses, a crore of gold pieces, and excellent garments, and ornaments. Then that dependent, who had attained prosperity, became like a king; how can the attendance on a grateful king, who has excellent courtiers, be void of fruit.

When Naravahanadatta was thus employed, there came one day, to take service with him, a young Brahman from the Dekhan, named Pralambabahu. That hero said to the prince: "I have come to your feet, my sovereign, attracted by your renown; and I on foot will never leave your company for a step, as long as you travel on the earth with elephants, horses, and chariots; but in the air I cannot go; I say this because it is rumoured that my lord will one day be emperor of the Vidyadharas. A hundred gold pieces should be given to me every day as salary." When that Brahman, who was really of incomparable might, said this, Naravahanadatta gave him this salary. And thereupon Gomukha said--"My lord, kings have such servants: a propos of this, hear this story."

Story of the Brahman Viravara. [734]

There is in this country a great and splendid city of the name of Vikramapura. In it there lived long ago a king named Vikramatunga. He was distinguished for statesmanship, and though his sword was sharp, his rod of justice was not so; and he was always intent on righteousness, but not on women, hunting, and so forth. And while he was king, the only atoms of wickedness were the atoms of earth in the dust, the only departure from virtue was the loosing of arrows from the string, the only straying from justice was the wandering of sheep in the folds of the keepers of cattle. [735] Once on a time a heroic and handsome Brahman, from the country of Malava, named Viravara, came there to take service under that king; he had a wife named Dharmavati, a daughter named Viravati, and a son named Sattvavara; these three const.i.tuted his family; and his attendants consisted of another three: at his hip a dagger, in one hand a sword, and in the other a polished shield. Though he had such a small following, he demanded from that king five hundred dinars every day by way of salary. And the king gave him that salary, perceiving his courage, and thinking to himself, "I will make trial of his excellence." And the king set spies on him, to find out what this man, with only two arms, would do with so many dinars. And Viravara, every day, gave his wife a hundred of those dinars for food and other purposes; and with another hundred he bought clothes, and garlands, and so on; and he appointed a third hundred, after bathing, for the worship of Vishnu and Siva; and the remaining two hundred he gave to Brahmans, the poor and so on; and so he expended every day the whole five hundred. And he stood at the palace-gate of the king for the first half of the day, and after he had performed his daily prayers and other duties, he came back and remained there at night also. The spies reported to the king continually that daily practice of his, and then the king, being satisfied, ordered those spies to desist from observing him. And Viravara remained day and night at the gate of the king's palace, sword in hand, excepting only the time set apart for bathing and matters of that kind. Then there came a collection of clouds, bellowing terribly, as if determined to conquer that Viravara, being impatient of his valour. And then, though the cloud rained a terrible arrow-shower of drops, Viravara stood like a column and did not leave the palace-gate. And the king Vikramatunga, having beheld him from the palace in this position, went up to the roof of the palace at night to try him again. And he called out from above--"Who waits at the palace-gate?" And Viravara, when he heard that, answered--"I am here." The king hearing this, thought--"Surely this brave man deserves high rank, for he does not leave the palace-gate, though such a cloud is raining." While engaged in these reflections, the king heard a woman weeping bitterly in the distance; and he thought--"There is not an afflicted person in my dominions, so why does she weep?" Thereupon he said to Viravara, "Hark, Viravara, there is some woman weeping at some distance from this place, so go, and find out who she is, and what is her sorrow." When Viravara heard that, he set out, brandishing his sword, with his dagger at his side. Then the king, seeing that he had set out when such a cloud was blazing with lightning, and when the interval between heaven and earth [736] was full of descending drops of rain, being moved with curiosity and pity, came down from the roof of his palace, and set out behind him, sword in hand, un.o.bserved.

And Viravara, going in the direction of the wailing, [737] followed unperceived by the king, reached a lake outside the city. And he saw a woman lamenting in the midst of it; "Ah lord! Ah merciful one! Ah hero! How shall I exist abandoned by thee?" He asked her; "Who are you, and what lord do you lament?" Then she said; "My son, know that I am this earth. At present Vikramatunga is my righteous lord, and his death will certainly take place on the third day from now. And how shall I obtain such a lord again? For with divine foresight I behold the good and evil to come, as Suprabha, the son of a G.o.d, did, when in heaven."

Story of Suprabha.

For he, possessing divine foresight, foresaw that in seven days he would fall from heaven on account of the exhaustion of his merits, and be conceived in the body of a sow. Then that son of a G.o.d, reflecting on the misery of dwelling in the body of a sow, regretted with himself those heavenly enjoyments: "Alas for heaven! Alas for the Apsarases! Alas for the arbours of Nandana! Alas! how shall I live in the body of a sow, and after that in the mire?" When the king of the G.o.ds heard him indulging in these lamentations, he came to him, and questioned him, and that son of a G.o.d told him the cause of his grief. Then Indra said to him, "Listen, there is a way out of this difficulty open to you. Have recourse to Siva as a protector, exclaiming 'Om! Honour to Siva!' If you resort to him as a protector, you shall escape from your guilt and obtain merit, so that you shall not be born in the body of a pig nor fall from heaven." When the king of the G.o.ds said this to Suprabha, he followed his advice, and exclaiming "Om! Honour to Siva!" he fled to Siva as an asylum. After remaining wholly intent on him for six days, he not only by his favour escaped being sent into the body of a pig, but went to an abode of bliss higher than Svarga. And on the seventh day, when Indra, not seeing him in heaven, looked about, he found he had gone to another and a superior world.

"As Suprabha lamented, beholding pollution impending, so I lament, beholding the impending death of the king." When Earth said this, Viravara answered her:--"If there is any expedient for rescuing this king, as there was an expedient for rescuing Suprabha in accordance with the advice of Indra, pray tell it me." When Earth was thus addressed by Viravara, she answered him: "There is an expedient in this case, and it is in your hands." When the Brahman Viravara heard this, he said joyfully-- [738]

"Then tell me, G.o.ddess, quickly; if my lord can be benefited by the sacrifice of my life, or of my son or wife, my birth is not wasted." When Viravara said this, Earth answered him--"There is here an image of Durga near the palace; if you offer to that image your son Sattvavara, then the king will live, but there is no other expedient for saving his life." When the resolute Viravara heard this speech of the G.o.ddess Earth, he said--"I will go, lady, and do it immediately." And Earth said "What other man is so devoted to his lord? Go, and prosper." And the king, who followed him, heard all.

Then Viravara went quickly to his house that night, and the king followed him un.o.bserved. There he woke up his wife Dharmavati and told her, that, by the counsel of the G.o.ddess Earth, he must offer up his son for the sake of the king. She, when she heard it, said--"We must certainly do what is for the advantage of the king; so wake up our son and tell him." Then Viravara woke up his son, and told him all that the G.o.ddess Earth had told him, as being for the interest of the king, down to the necessity of his own sacrifice. When the child Sattvavara heard this, he, being rightly named, said to his father, [739] "Am I not fortunate, my father, in that my life can profit the king? I must requite him for his food which I have eaten; so take me and sacrifice me to the G.o.ddess for his sake." When the boy Sattvavara said this, Viravara answered him undismayed, "In truth you are my own son." When king Vikramatunga, who was standing outside, heard this, he said to himself--"Ah! the members of this family are all equally brave."

Then Viravara took that son Sattvavara on his shoulder, and his wife Dharmavati took his daughter Viravati on her back, and the two went to the temple of Durga by night.

And the king Vikramatunga followed them, carefully concealing himself. When they reached the temple, Sattvavara was put down by his father from his shoulder, and, though he was a boy, being a store-house of courage, he bowed before the G.o.ddess, and addressed this pet.i.tion to her: "G.o.ddess, may our lord's life be saved by the offering of my head! And may the king Vikramatunga rule the earth without an enemy to oppose him!" When the boy said this, Viravara exclaimed, "Bravo! my son!" And drawing his sword, he cut off his son's head, and offered it to the G.o.ddess Durga, saying, "May the king be prosperous!" Those who are devoted to their master grudge them neither their sons' lives nor their own. Then a voice was heard from heaven, saying, "Bravo, Viravara! you have bestowed life on your master by sacrificing even the life of your son." Then, while the king was seeing and hearing with great astonishment all that went on, the daughter of Viravara, named Viravati, who was a mere girl, came up to the head of her slain brother, and embraced it, and kissed it, and crying out "Alas! my brother!" died of a broken heart. When Viravara's wife, Dharmavati, saw that her daughter also was dead, in her grief she clasped her hands together, and said to Viravara; "We have now ensured the prosperity of the king, so permit me to enter the fire with my two dead children. Since my infant daughter, though too young to understand anything, has died out of grief for her brother, what is the use of my life, my two children being dead?" When she spoke with this settled purpose, Viravara said to her; "Do so, what can I say against it? For, blameless one, there remains no happiness for you in a world, which will be all filled for you with grief for your two children; so wait a moment while I prepare the funeral pyre." Having said this, he constructed a pyre with some wood, that was lying there to make the fence of the enclosure of the G.o.ddess's temple, and put the corpses of his children upon it, and lit a fire under it, so that it was enveloped in flames. Then his virtuous wife, Dharmavati, fell at his feet, and exclaiming, "May you, my husband, be my lord in my next birth, and may prosperity befall the king!" she leapt into that burning pyre, with its hair of flame, as gladly as into a cool lake. And king Vikramatunga, who was standing by unperceived, remained fixed in thought as to how he could possibly recompense them.

Then Viravara, of resolute soul, reflected--"I have accomplished my duty to my master, for a divine voice was heard audibly, and so I have requited him for the food which I have eaten, but now that I have lost all the dear family I had to support, [740] it is not meet that I should live alone, supporting myself only, so why should I not propitiate this G.o.ddess Durga by offering up myself?" Viravara, firm in virtue, having formed this determination, first approached with a hymn of praise that G.o.ddess Durga, the granter of boons. "Honour to thee, O great G.o.ddess, that givest security to thy votaries, rescue me plunged in the mire of the world, that appeal to thee for protection. Thou art the principle of life in creatures, by thee this world moves. In the beginning of creation Siva beheld thee self-produced, blazing and illuminating the world with brightness hard to behold, like ten million orbs of fiery suddenly-produced infant suns rising at once, filling the whole horizon with the circle of thy arms, bearing a sword, a club, a bow, arrows and a spear. And thou wast praised by that G.o.d Siva in the following words--'Hail to thee Chandi, Chamunda, Mangala, Tripura, Jaya, Ekanansa, Siva, Durga, Narayani, Sarasvati, Bhadrakali, Mahalakshmi, Siddha, slayer of Ruru. Thou art Gayatri, Maharajni, Revati, and the dweller in the Vindhya hills; thou art Uma and Katyayani, and the dweller in Kailasa, the mountain of Siva.' When Skandha, and Vasishta, and Brahma, and the others heard thee praised, under these and other t.i.tles, by Siva well skilled in praising, they also praised thee. And by praising thee, O adorable one, immortals, rishis, and men obtained, and do now obtain, boons above their desire. So be favourable to me, O bestower of boons and do thou also receive this tribute of the sacrifice of my body, and may prosperity befall my lord the king!" After saying this, he was preparing to cut off his own head, [741] but a bodiless voice was heard at that moment from the air, "Do not act rashly, my son, for I am well-pleased with this courage of thine, so crave from me the boon that thou dost desire." When Viravara heard that, he said, "If thou art pleased, G.o.ddess, then may king Vikramatunga live another hundred years. And may my wife and children return to life." When he craved this boon, there again sounded from the air the words "So be it!" And immediately the three, Dharmavati, Sattvavara, and Viravati rose up with unwounded bodies. Then Viravara was delighted, and took home to his house all those who had been thus restored to life by the favour of the G.o.ddess, and returned to the king's gate.