Story of the faithless wife who had her husband murdered.

Of old time there lived in a village a householder, named Devadasa, and he had a wife named with good cause Duhsila. [14] And the neighbours knew that she was in love with another man. Now, once on a time, Devadasa went to the king's court on some business. And his wife, who wished to have him murdered, took advantage of the occasion to bring her paramour, whom she concealed on the roof of the house. And in the dead of night she had her husband Devadasa killed by that paramour, when he was asleep. And she dismissed her paramour, and remained quiet until the morning, when she went out, and exclaimed, "My husband has been killed by robbers." Then his relations came there, and after they had seen his body, they said, "If he was killed by thieves, why did they not carry off anything?" After they had said this, they asked her young son, who was there, "Who killed your father?" Then he said plainly; "A man had gone up on the roof here in the day, he came down in the night, and killed my father before my eyes; but first my mother took me and rose up from my father's side." When the boy said this, the dead man's relations knew that Devadasa had been killed by his wife's paramour, and they searched him out, and put him to death then and there, and they adopted that boy and banished Duhsila.

"So you see, a woman, whose heart is fixed on another man, infallibly kills like the snake." When Harisikha said this, Gomukha said again--"Why should we tell any out-of-the-way story? Listen to the ridiculous fate that befell Vajrasara here, the servant of the king of Vatsa."

Story of Vajrasara whose wife cut off his nose and ears.

He, being brave and handsome, had a beautiful wife that came from Malava, whom he loved more than his own body. Once on a time his wife's father, longing to see her, came in person, accompanied by his son, from Malava, to invite him and her. Then Vajrasara entertained him, and informed the king, and went, as he had been invited to do, to Malava with his wife and his father-in-law. And after he had rested a month only in his father-in-law's house, he came back here to attend upon the king, but that wife of his remained there. Then, after some days had pa.s.sed, suddenly a friend of the name of Krodhana came to him, and said:--"Why have you ruined your family by leaving your wife in her father's house? For the abandoned woman has there formed a connexion with another man. This was told me to-day by a trustworthy person who came from that place. Do not suppose that it is untrue; punish her, and marry another." When Krodhana had said this, he went away, and Vajrasara stood bewildered for a moment, and then reflected--"I suspect this may be true; otherwise, why did she not come back, though I sent a man to summon her? So I will go myself to bring her, and see what the state of the case is."

Having formed this resolution, he went to Malava, and after taking leave of his father-in-law and his mother-in-law, he set out with his wife. And after he had gone a long distance, he eluded his followers by a trick, and going by the wrong path, entered with his wife a dense wood. He sat down in the middle of it, and said to her, out of hearing of any one: "I have heard from a trustworthy friend, that you are in love with another, and when I, remaining at home, sent for you, you did not come; so tell me the truth; if you do not, I will punish you." When she heard this, she said: "If this is your intention, why do you ask me? Do what you like." When Vajrasara heard this contemptuous speech of hers, he was angry and tied her up, and began to beat her with creepers. But while he was stripping off her clothes, he felt his pa.s.sion renewed, and asked her to forgive him, whereupon she said; "I will, if I may tie you up and beat you with creepers, in the same way as you tied me up and beat me, but not otherwise." Vajrasara, whose heart was made like stubble by love, consented, for he was blinded by pa.s.sion. Then she bound him firmly, hand and foot, to a tree, and, when he was bound, she cut off his ears and nose with his own sword, and the wicked woman took his sword and clothes, and disguising herself as a man, departed whither she would.

But Vajrasara, with his nose and ears cut off, remained there, depressed by great loss of blood, and loss of self-respect. Then a certain benevolent physician, who was wandering through the wood in search of healing herbs, saw him, and out of compa.s.sion unbound him, and brought him home to his house. And Vajrasara, having been brought round by him, slowly returned to his own house, but he did not find that wicked wife, though he sought for her. And he described the whole occurrence to Krodhana, and he related it in the presence of the king of Vatsa; and all the people in the king's court mocked him, saying, that his wife had justly taken away his man's dress and suitably punished him, because he had lost all manly spirit and faculty of just resentment, and so become a woman. But in spite of their ridicule he remains there with heart of adamant, proof against shame. So what confidence, your Royal Highness, can be placed in women?

When Gomukha had said this, Marubhuti went on to say, "The mind of woman is unstable, hear a tale in ill.u.s.tration of this truth."

Story of king Sinhabala and his fickle wife.

Formerly there dwelt in the Deccan a king, of the name of Sinhabala. And his wife named Kalyanavati, the daughter of a prince of Malava, was dear to him above all the women of his harem. And the king ruled the realm with her as consort, but once on a time he was expelled from his kingdom by his powerful relations, who banded together against him. And then the king, accompanied by the queen, with his weapons and but few attendants, set out for the house of his father-in-law in Malava.

And as he was going along through a forest, which lay in his road, a lion charged him, and the hero easily cut it in two with a stroke of his sword. And when a wild elephant came at him trumpeting, he circled round it and cut off with his sword its trunk and feet, and stripped it of its jewel, and killed it. And alone he dispersed the hosts of bandits like lotuses, and trampled them, as the elephant, lord of the forest, tramples the beds of white water-lilies. Thus he accomplished the journey, and his wonderful courage was seen, and so he reached Malava, and then this sea of valour said to his wife: "You must not tell in your father's house this that happened to me on the journey, it will bring shame to me, my queen, for what is there laudable in courage displayed by a man of the military caste?" After he had given her this injunction, he entered his father-in-law's house with her, and when eagerly questioned by him, told his story. His father-in-law honoured him, and gave him elephants and horses, and then he repaired to a very powerful king named Gajanika. But being intent on conquering his enemies, he left his wife Kalyanavati there in her father's house.

Some days after he had gone, his wife, while standing at the window, saw a certain man. The moment she saw him, he captivated her heart by his good looks; and being drawn on by love, she immediately thought, "I know, no one is more handsome or more brave than my husband, but alas! my mind is attracted towards this man. So let what must be, be. I will have an interview with him." So she determined in her own mind, and told her desire to a female attendant, who was her confidante. And she made her bring him at night, and introduce him into the women's apartments by the window, pulling him up with a rope. When the man was introduced, he had not courage to sit boldly on the sofa on which she was, but sat apart on a chair. The queen, when she saw that, was despondent, thinking he was a mean man, and at that very moment a snake, which was roaming about, came down from the roof. When the man saw the snake, he sprang up quickly in fear, and taking his bow, he killed the snake with an arrow. And when it fell dead, he threw it out of the window, and in his delight at having escaped that danger, the coward danced for joy. When Kalyanavati saw him dancing, she was cast down, and thought to herself over and over again: "Alas! alas! What have I to do with this mean-spirited coward?" And her friend, who was a discerning person, saw that she was disgusted, and so she went out, and quickly returned with a.s.sumed trepidation, and said, "Queen, your father has come, so let this young man quickly return to his own house by the way by which he came." When she said this, he went out of the window by means of the rope, and being overpowered by fear, he fell, but as luck would have it, he was not killed.

When he had gone, Kalyanavati said to her confidante,--"My friend, you have acted rightly in turning out this low fellow. [15] You penetrated my feelings, for my heart is vexed. My husband, after slaying tigers and lions, conceals it through modesty, and this cowardly man, after killing a snake, dances for joy. So why should I desert such a husband and fall in love with a common fellow? Curse on my unstable mind, or rather curse on women, who are like flies that leave camphor and haste to impurity!" The queen spent the night in these self-reproaches, and afterwards remained waiting in her father's house for the return of her husband. In the meanwhile Sinhabala, having been supplied with another army by king Gajanika, slew those five wicked relations. Then he recovered his kingdom, and at the same time brought back his wife from her father's house, and after loading his father-in-law with abundance of wealth, he ruled the earth for a long time without opposition.

"So you see, king, that the mind of even discerning women is fickle, and, though they have brave and handsome husbands, wanders. .h.i.ther and thither, but women of pure character are scarce."

When Naravahanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, had heard this story related by Marubhuti, he sank off into a sound sleep and so pa.s.sed the night.

CHAPTER LIX.

Early the next day, Naravahanadatta, after he had performed his necessary duties, went to his garden by way of amus.e.m.e.nt. And while he was there, he saw first a blaze of splendour descend from heaven, and after it a company of many Vidyadhara females. And in the middle of those glittering ones, he saw a maiden charming to the eye like a digit of the moon in the middle of the stars, with face like an opening lotus, with rolling eyes like circling bees, with the swimming gait of a swan, diffusing the perfume of a blue lotus, with dimples charming like waves, with waist adorned with a string of pearls, like the presiding G.o.ddess of the lovely lake in Cupid's garden, appearing in bodily form. And the prince, when he saw that charming enamoured creature, a medicine potent to revive the G.o.d of love, was disturbed like the sea, when it beholds the orb of the moon. And he approached her, saying to his ministers--"Ah! extraordinary is the variety in producing fair ones that is characteristic of Providence!" And when she looked at him with a sidelong look tender with pa.s.sion, he asked her--"Who are you, auspicious one, and why have you come here?" When the maiden heard that, she said, "Listen, I will tell you."

"There is a town of gold on the Himalayas, named Kanchanasringa. In it there lives a king of the Vidyadharas, named Sphatikayasas, who is just, and kind to the wretched, the unprotected, and those who seek his aid. Know that I am his daughter, born to him by the queen Hemaprabha, in consequence of a boon granted by Gauri. And I, being the youngest child, and having five brothers, and being dear to my father as his life, kept by his advice propitiating Gauri with vows and hymns. She, being pleased, bestowed on me all the magic sciences, and deigned to address me thus--'Thy might in science shall be tenfold that of thy father, and thy husband shall be Naravahanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, the future emperor of the Vidyadharas. After the consort of Siva had said this, she disappeared, and by her favour I obtained the sciences and gradually grew up. And last night the G.o.ddess appeared to me and commanded me--'To-morrow, my daughter, thou must go and visit thy husband, and thou must return here the same day, for in a month thy father, who has long entertained this intention, will give thee in marriage.' The G.o.ddess, after giving me this command, disappeared, and the night came to an end; so here I am come, your Highness, to pay you a visit. So now I will depart." Having said this, Saktiyasas flew up into the heaven with her attendants, and returned to her father's city.

But Naravahanadatta, being eager to marry her, went in disappointed, considering the month as long as a yuga. And Gomukha, seeing that he was despondent, said to him, "Listen, prince, I will tell you a delightful story."

Story of king Sumanas, the Nishada maiden and the learned parrot. [16]

In old time there was a city named Kanchanapuri, and in it there lived a great king named Sumanas. He was of extraordinary splendour, and crossing difficult and inaccessible regions, he conquered the fortresses and fastnesses of his foes. Once, as he was sitting in the hall of a.s.sembly, the warder said to him--"King, the daughter of the king of the Nishadas, named Muktalata, is standing outside the door with a parrot in a cage, accompanied by her brother Viraprabha, and wishes to see your Majesty." The king said "Let her enter," and, introduced by the warder, the Bhilla maiden entered the enclosure of the king's hall of a.s.sembly. And all there, when they saw her beauty, thought--"This is not a mortal maiden, surely this is some heavenly nymph." And she bowed before the king and spoke as follows--"King, here is a parrot that knows the four Vedas, called Sastraganja, a poet skilled in all the sciences and in the graceful arts, and I have brought him here to-day by the order of king Maya, so receive him." With these words she handed over the parrot, and it was brought by the warder near the king, as he had a curiosity to see it, and it recited the following sloka:

"King, this is natural, that the black-faced smoke of thy valour should be continually increased by the windy sighs of the widows of thy enemies, but this is strange, that the strong flame of thy valour blazes in the ten cardinal points all the more fiercely on account of the overflowing of the copious tears wrung from them by the humiliation of defeat."

When the parrot had recited this sloka, it began to reflect, and said again, "What do you wish to know? tell me from what sastra I shall recite."

Then the king was much astonished, but his minister said--"I suspect, my lord, this is some rishi of ancient days become a parrot on account of a curse, but owing to his piety he remembers his former birth, and so recollects what he formerly read." When the ministers said this to the king, the king said to the parrot--"I feel curiosity, my good parrot, tell me your story, where is your place of birth? How comes it that in your parrot condition you know the sastras? Who are you?" Then the parrot shed tears and slowly spoke: "The story is sad to tell, O king, but listen, I will tell it in obedience to thy command."

The parrot's account of his own life as a parrot.

Near the Himalayas, O king, there is a rohini tree, which resembles the Vedas, in that many birds take refuge in its branches that extend through the heaven, as Brahmans in the various branches of the sacred tradition. [17] There a c.o.c.k-parrot used to dwell with his hen, and to that pair I was born, by the influence of my evil works in a former life. And as soon as I was born, the hen-parrot, my mother, died, but my old father put me under his wing, and fostered me tenderly. And he continued to live there, eating what remained over from the fruits brought by the other parrots, and giving some to me.

Once on a time, there came there to hunt a terrible army of Bhillas, making a noise with cows' horns strongly blown; and the whole of that great wood was like an army fleeing in rout, with terrified antelopes for dust-stained banners, and the bushy tails of the chamari deer, agitated in fear, resembling chowries, as the host of Pulindas rushed upon it to slay various living creatures. And after the army of Savaras had spent the day in the hunting-grounds, in the sport of death, they returned with the loads of flesh which they had obtained. But a certain aged Savara, who had not obtained any flesh, saw the tree in the evening, and being hungry, approached it, and he quickly climbed up it, and kept dragging parrots and other birds from their nests, killing them, and flinging them on the ground. And when I saw him coming near, like the minister of Yama, I slowly crept in fear underneath the wing of my father. And in the meanwhile the ruffian came near our nest, and dragged out my father, and wringing his neck, flung him down on the ground at the foot of the tree. And I fell with my father, and slipping out from underneath his wing, I slowly crept in my fear into the gra.s.s and leaves. Then the rascally Bhilla came down, and roasted some of the parrots and ate them, and others he carried off to his own village.

Then my fear was at an end, but I spent a night long from grief, and in the morning, when the flaming eye [18] of the world had mounted high in the heaven, I, being thirsty, went to the bank of a neighbouring lake full of lotuses, tumbling frequently, clinging to the earth with my wings, and there I saw on the sand of the lake a hermit, named Marichi, who had just bathed, as it were my good works in a former state of existence. He, when he saw me, refreshed me with drops of water flung in my face, and, putting me in the hollow of a leaf, out of pity, carried me to his hermitage. There Pulastya, the head of the hermitage, laughed when he saw me, and being asked by the other hermits, why he laughed, having supernatural insight, he said--"When I beheld this parrot, who is a parrot in consequence of a curse, I laughed out of sorrow, but after I have said my daily prayers, I will tell a story connected with him, which shall cause him to remember his former birth, and the occurrences of his former lives." After saying this, the hermit Pulastya rose up for his daily prayer, and, after he had performed his daily prayer, being again solicited by the hermits, the great sage told this story concerning me.

The hermit's story of Somaprabha, Manorathaprabha, and Makarandika, wherein it appears who the parrot was in a former birth.

There lived in the city of Ratnakara a king named Jyotishprabha, who ruled the earth with supreme authority, as far as the sea, the mine of jewels. There was born to him, by his queen named Harshavati, a son, whose birth was due to the favour of Siva propitiated by severe asceticism. Because the queen saw in a dream the moon entering her mouth, the king gave his son the name of Somaprabha. And the prince gradually grew up with ambrosial qualities, furnishing a feast to the eyes of the subjects.

And his father Jyotishprabha, seeing that he was brave, young, beloved by the subjects, and able to bear the weight of empire, gladly anointed him crown-prince. And he gave him as minister the virtuous Priyankara, the son of his own minister named Prabhakara. On that occasion Matali descended from the heaven with a celestial horse, and coming up to Somaprabha, said to him: "You are a Vidyadhara, a friend of Indra's, born on earth, and he has sent you an excellent horse named asusravas, the son of Uchchhaihsravas, in memory of his former friendship; if you mount it, you will be invincible by your foes." After the charioteer of Indra had said this, he gave Somaprabha that splendid horse, and after receiving due honour, he flew up to heaven again.

Then Somaprabha spent that day pleasantly in feasting, and the next day said to his father the king; "My father, the duty of a Kshatriya is not complete without a desire for conquest, so permit me to march out to the conquest of the regions." When his father Jyotishprabha heard that, he was pleased, and consented, and made arrangements for his expedition. Then Somaprabha bowed before his father, and marched out on an auspicious day, with his forces, for the conquest of the regions, mounted on the horse given by Indra. And by the help of his splendid horse, he conquered the kings of every part of the world, and being irresistible in might, he stripped them of their jewels. He bent his bow and the necks of his enemies at the same time; the bow was unbent again, but the heads of his enemies were never again uplifted.

Then, as he was returning in triumph, on a path which led him near the Himalayas, he made his army encamp, and went hunting in a wood. And as chance would have it, he saw there a Kinnara, made of a splendid jewel, and he pursued him on his horse given by Indra, with the object of capturing him. The Kinnara entered a cavern in the mountain, and was lost to view, but the prince was carried far away by that horse.

And when the sun, after diffusing illumination over the quarters of the world, had reached the western peak, where he meets the evening twilight, the prince, being tired, managed, though with difficulty, to return, and he beheld a great lake, and wishing to pa.s.s the night on its sh.o.r.es, he dismounted from his horse. And after he had given gra.s.s and water to the horse, and had taken fruits and water himself, and felt rested, he suddenly heard from a certain quarter the sound of a song. Out of curiosity he went in the direction of the sound, and saw at no great distance a heavenly nymph, singing in front of a linga of Siva. He said to himself in astonishment, "Who may this lovely one be?" And she, seeing that he was of n.o.ble appearance, said to him bashfully--"Tell me, who are you? How did you reach alone this inaccessible place?" When he heard this, he told his story, and asked her in turn, "Tell me, who are you and what is your business in this wood?" When he asked this question, the heavenly maiden said--"If you have any desire, n.o.ble sir, to hear my tale, listen, I will tell it;"

after this preface she began to speak with a gushing flood of tears.

Episode of Manorathaprabha and Rasmimat.

There is here, on the table-land of the Himalayas, a city named Kanchanabha, and in it there dwells a king of the Vidyadharas named Padmakuta. Know that I am the daughter of that king by his queen Hemaprabha, and that my name is Manorathaprabha, and my father loves me more than his life. I, by the power of my science, used to visit, with my female companions, the isles, and the princ.i.p.al mountains, and the woods, and the gardens, and after amusing myself, I made a point of returning every day at my father's meal-time, at the third watch of the day, to my palace. Once on a time I arrived here as I was roaming about, and I saw on the sh.o.r.e of the lake a hermit's son with his companion. And being summoned by the splendour of his beauty, as if by a female messenger, I approached him, and he welcomed me with a wistful look. And then I sat down, and my friend, perceiving the feelings of both, put this question to him through his companion, "Who are you, n.o.ble sir, tell me?" And his companion said; "Not far from here, my friend, there lives in a hermitage a hermit named Didhitimat. He, being subject to a strict vow of chast.i.ty, was seen once, when he came to bathe in this lake, by the G.o.ddess Sri, who came there at the same time. As she could not obtain him in the flesh, as he was a strict ascetic, and yet longed for him earnestly with her mind, she conceived a mind-born son. And she took that son to Didhitimat, saying to him, 'I have obtained this son by looking at you; receive it.' And after giving the son to the hermit, Sri disappeared. And the hermit gladly received the son, so easily obtained, and gave him the name of Rasmimat, and gradually reared him, and after investing him with the sacred thread, taught him out of love all the sciences. Know that you see before you in this young hermit that very Rasmimat the son of Sri, come here with me on a pleasure journey." When my friend had heard this from the youth's friend, she, being questioned by him in turn, told my name and descent as I have now told it to you.

Then I and the hermit's son became still more in love with one another from hearing one another's descent, and while we were lingering there, a second attendant came and said to me, "Rise up, your father, fair one, is waiting for you in the dining-room of the palace." When I heard that, I said--"I will return quickly," and leaving the youth there, I went into the presence of my father out of fear. And when I came out, having taken a very little food, the first attendant came to me and said of her own accord: "The friend of that hermit's son came here, my friend, and standing at the door of the court said to me in a state of hurried excitement--'Rasmimat has sent me here now, bestowing on me the power of travelling in the air, which he inherits from his father, to see Manorathaprabha: he is reduced to a terrible state by love and cannot retain his breath a moment longer, without that mistress of his life.'" The moment I heard this, I left my father's palace, and, accompanied by that friend of the hermit's son, who showed me the way, and my attendant, I came here, and when I arrived here, I saw that that hermit's son, separated from me, had resigned, at the rising of the moon, the nectar of his life. So I, grieved by separation from him, was blaming my vital frame, and longing to enter the fire with his body. But at that very moment a man, with a body like a ma.s.s of flame, descended from the sky, and flew up to heaven with his body.

Then I was desirous to hurl myself into the fire alone, but at that moment a voice issued from the air here; "Manorathaprabha, do not do this thing, for at the appointed time thou shalt be re-united to this thy hermit's son." On hearing this, I gave up the idea of suicide, and here I remain full of hope, waiting for him, engaged in the worship of Siva. And as for the friend of the hermit's son, he has disappeared somewhere.

When the Vidyadhara maiden had said this, Somaprabha said to her, "Then, why do you remain alone, where is that female attendant of yours?" When the Vidyadhara maiden heard this, she answered: "There is a king of the Vidyadharas, named Sinhavikrama, and he has a matchless daughter named Makarandika; she is a friend of mine, dear as my life, who sympathizes with my grief, and she to-day sent her attendant to learn tidings of me. So I sent back my own attendant to her, with her attendant; it is for that reason that I am at present alone." As she was saying this, she pointed out to Somaprabha her attendant descending from heaven. And she made the attendant, after she had told her news, strew a bed of leaves for Somaprabha, and also give gra.s.s to his horse.

Then, after pa.s.sing the night, they rose up in the morning, and saw approaching a Vidyadhara, who had descended from heaven. And that Vidyadhara, whose name was Devajaya, after sitting down, spoke thus to Manorathaprabha--"Manorathaprabha, king Sinhavikrama informs you that your friend, his daughter Makarandika, out of love for you, refuses to marry until you have obtained a bridegroom. So he wishes you to go there and admonish her, that she may be ready to marry." When the Vidyadhara maiden heard this, she prepared to go, out of regard for her friend, and then Somaprabha said to her:--"Virtuous one, I have a curiosity to see the Vidyadhara world: so take me there, and let my horse remain here supplied with gra.s.s." When she heard that, she consented, and taking her attendant with her, she flew through the air, with Somaprabha, who was carried in the arms of Devajaya.

When she arrived there, Makarandika welcomed her, and seeing Somaprabha, asked, "Who is this?" And when Manorathaprabha told his story, the heart of Makarandika was immediately captivated by him. He, for his part, thought in his mind, deeming he had come upon Good Fortune in bodily form--"Who is the fortunate man destined to be her bridegroom?"