KATAHA SARIT SAGARA Chapter XXXI

Chapter XXXI

 

The next morning Somaprabhá arrived, and Kalingasená said to her friend in her confidential conversation—“My father certainly wishes to give me to Prasenajit, I heard this from my mother, and you have seen that he is an old man. But you have described the king of Vatsa in such a way in the course of conversation, that my mind has been captivated by him entering in through the gate of my ear. So first shew me Prasenajit, and then take me there, where the king of Vatsa is; what do I care for my father, or my mother?” When the impatient girl said this, Somaprabhá answered her—“If you must go, then let us go in the chariot that travels through the air. But you must take with you all your retinue, for, as soon as you have seen the king of Vatsa, you will find it impossible to return. And you will never see or think of your parents, and when you have obtained your beloved, you will forget even me, as I shall be at a distance from you. For I shall never enter your husband’s house, my friend.” When the princess heard that, she wept and said to her,—“Then bring that king of Vatsa here, my friend, for I shall not be able to exist there a moment without you: was not Aniruddha brought to Ushá by Chitralekhá? And though you know it, hear from my mouth that story.”

 

Story of Ushá and Aniruddha.

 

The Asura Báṇa had a daughter, famous under the name of Ushá. And she propitiated Gaurí, who granted her a boon in order that she might obtain a husband, saying to her, “He to whom you shall be united in a dream, shall be your husband.” Then she saw in a dream a certain man looking like a divine prince. She was married by him according to the Gándharva form of marriage, and after obtaining the joy of union with him, she woke up at the close of night. When she did not see the husband she had seen in her dream, but beheld the traces of his presence, she remembered the boon of Gaurí, and was full of disquietude, fear, and astonishment. And being miserable without the husband whom she had seen in her dream, she confessed all to her friend Chitralekhá, who questioned her. And Chitralekhá, being acquainted with magic, thus addressed that Ushá, who knew not the name of her lover nor any sign whereby to recognise him,—“My friend, this is the result of the boon of the goddess Gaurí, what doubt can we allege in this matter? But how are you to search for your lover as he is not to be recognised by any token? I will sketch for you the whole world, gods, Asuras, and men, in case you may be able to recognise him; and point him out to me among them, in order that I may bring him.” Thus spoke Chitralekhá, and when Ushá answered “By all means!” she painted for her with coloured pencils the whole world in order. Thereupon Ushá exclaimed joyfully, “There he is,” and pointed out with trembling finger Aniruddha in Dváravatí of the race of Yadu. Then Chitralekhá said—“My friend, you are fortunate, in that you have obtained for a husband Aniruddha the grandson of the adorable Vishṇu. But he lives sixty thousand yojanas from here.” When Ushá heard that, she said to her, overpowered by excessive longing, “Friend, if I cannot to-day repair to his bosom cool as sandal wood, know that I am already dead, being burnt up with the uncontrollable fire of love.” When Chitralekhá heard this, she consoled her dear friend, and immediately flew up and went through the air to the city of Dváravatí; and she beheld it in the middle of the sea, producing with its vast and lofty palaces an appearance as if the peaks of the churning mountain had again been flung into the ocean. She found Aniruddha asleep in that city at night, and woke him up, and told him that Ushá had fallen in love with him on account of having seen him in a dream. And she took the prince, who was eager for the interview, looking exactly as he had before appeared in Ushá’s dream, and returned from Dváravatí in a moment by the might of her magic. And flying with him through the air, she introduced that lover secretly into the private apartments of Ushá, who was awaiting him. When Ushá beheld that Aniruddha arrived in bodily form, resembling the moon, there was a movement in her limbs resembling the tide of the sea. Then she remained there with that sweet-heart who had been given her by her friend, in perfect happiness, as if with Life embodied in visible form. But her father Báṇa, when he heard it, was angry; however Aniruddha conquered him by his own valour and the might of his grandfather. Then Ushá and Aniruddha returned to Dváravatí and became inseparable like Śiva and Párvatí.

 

“Thus Chitralekhá united Ushá with her lover in one day, but I consider you, my friend, far more powerful than her. So bring me the king of Vatsa here, do not delay.” When Somaprabhá heard this from Kalingasená, she said—“Chitralekhá, a nymph of heaven, might take up a strange man and bring him, but what can one like myself do in the matter, who never touch any man but my husband? So I will take you, my friend, to the place where the king of Vatsa is, having first shewn you your suitor Prasenajit.” When Somaprabhá made this proposal to Kalingasená, she consented, and immediately ascended with her the magic chariot prepared by her, and setting out through the air with her treasures and her retinue, she went off unknown to her parents. For women impelled by love regard neither height nor depth in front of them, as a horse urged on by his rider does not fear the keenest sword-edge.

 

First she came to Śrávastí, and beheld from a distance the king Prasenajit white with age, who had gone out to hunt, distinguished by a chouri frequently waved, which seemed at a distance to repel her as if saying—“Leave this old man.” And Somaprabhá pointed him out with a scornful laugh, saying—“Look! this is the man to whom your father wishes to give you.” Then she said to Somaprabhá—“Old age has chosen him for her own, what other female will choose him?” “So take me away from here quickly, my friend, to the king of Vatsa.” Immediately Kalingasená went with her to the city of Kauśámbí through the air. Then she beheld from a distance with eagerness that king of Vatsa, pointed out by her friend in a garden, as the female partridge beholds the nectar-rayed moon. With dilated eye, and hand placed on the heart, she seemed to say “He has entered my soul by this path.” Then she exclaimed, “Friend, procure me a meeting here with the king of Vatsa this very day; for having seen him I am not able to wait a moment.” But when she said this, her friend Somaprabhá answered her—“I have seen to-day an unfavourable omen, so remain, my friend, this day quiet and unobserved in this garden, do not, my friend, send go-betweens backwards and forwards. To-morrow I will come and devise some expedient for your meeting: at present, O thou whose home is in my heart, I desire to return to the home of my husband.” Having said this, Somaprabhá departed thence after leaving her there; and the king of Vatsa, leaving the garden, entered his palace. Then Kalingasená, remaining there, sent her chamberlain, giving him her message explicitly, to the king of Vatsa; and this she did, though previously forbidden by her friend, who understood omens. Love, when recently enthroned in the breasts of young women, is impatient of all restraint. And the chamberlain went and announced himself by the mouth of the warder, and immediately entering, thus addressed the king of Vatsa—“O king, the daughter of Kalingadatta the king who rules over Takshaśilá, Kalingasená by name, having heard that you are most handsome, has come here to choose you for a husband, abandoning her relatives, having accomplished the journey in a magic car that travels through the air, together with her attendants; and she has been conducted here by her confidante named Somaprabhá, who travels invisible, the daughter of the Asura Maya, the wife of Naḍakúvara. I have been sent by her to inform you; do you receive her; let there be union of you two as of the moonlight and the moon.” When the king heard this from the chamberlain, he welcomed him, saying—“I consent,” and being delighted, he honoured him with gold and garments. And summoning his chief minister Yaugandharáyaṇa, he said to him, “The daughter of king Kalingadatta, who is called Kalingasená, and whose beauty is famed on the earth, has come of her own accord to choose me as a husband; so tell me quickly, when shall I marry her, for she is not to be rejected?” The minister Yaugandharáyaṇa, when the king of Vatsa said this to him, regarding what would be best for his master in the long run, reflected for a moment as follows: “Kalingasená is certainly famed for beauty in the three worlds, there is no other like her; even the gods are in love with her. If this king of Vatsa obtain her, he will abandon everything else, and then the queen Vásavadattá will lose her life, and then the prince Naraváhanadatta will perish, and Padmávatí out of love for him will find life hard to retain: and then Chaṇḍamahásena and Pradyota, the fathers of the two queens, will lose their lives or become hostile; and thus utter ruin will follow. On the other hand it will not do to forbid the match, since the vicious passion of this king will increase if he is thwarted. So I will put off the time of his marriage in order to attain a favourable issue.” Having thus reflected, Yaugandharáyaṇa said to the king of Vatsa, “O king, you are fortunate in that this Kalingasená has of her own accord come to your house, and the king, her father, has become your servant. So you must consult the astrologers, and marry her in accordance with good custom at an auspicious time, for she is the daughter of a great king. To-day give her a suitable palace to dwell in by herself, and send her male and female slaves, and robes and ornaments.” When his chief minister gave him this advice, the king of Vatsa approved it, and with glad heart performed it all with special attention. Then Kalingasená entered the palace assigned her for residence, and considering her desire attained, was exceedingly delighted.

 

The wise Yaugandharáyaṇa, for his part, immediately left the king’s court, went to his own house, and reflected—“Often procrastination serves to avert an inauspicious measure. For long ago, when Indra had fled on account of having caused the death of a Bráhman, and Nahusha obtained the sovereignty over the gods, he fell in love with Śachí, and she was saved by the preceptor of the gods, to whom she had fled for refuge. For in order to gain time, he kept saying—‘She will come to you to-day or to-morrow,’—until Nahusha was destroyed by the curse of a Bráhman, uttered with an angry roar, and Indra regained the sovereignty of the gods. In the same way I must keep putting off my master.” Having thus reflected, the minister secretly made an arrangement with the astrologers that they were to fix a distant date.

 

Then the queen Vásavadattá found out what had taken place, and summoned the prime-minister to her palace. When he entered and bowed before her, the queen said to him, weeping—“Noble sir, you said to me long ago, ‘Queen, as long as I remain where I am, you shall have no other rival but Padmávatí,’ and observe now, this Kalingasená is about to be married here: and she is beautiful, and my husband is attached to her, so you have proved a prophet of falsehood and I am now a dead woman.” When the minister Yaugandharáyaṇa heard this, he said to her—“Be composed, for how could this happen, queen, while I am alive? However, you must not oppose the king in this matter, but must on the contrary take refuge in self-restraint, and shew him all complaisance. The sick man is not induced to place himself in the physician’s hands by disagreeable speeches, but he is by agreeable speeches, if the physician does his work by a conciliatory method. If a man is dragged against the current, he will never escape from the stream of a river, or from a vicious tendency, but if he is carried with the current, he will escape from both. So when the king comes into your presence, receive him with all attentions, without anger, concealing your real feelings. Approve at present of his marrying Kalingasená, saying that his kingdom will be made more powerful by her father also becoming his ally. And if you do this, the king will perceive that you possess in a high degree the virtue of magnanimity, and his love and courtesy towards you will increase, and thinking that Kalingasená is within his reach, he will not be impatient, for the desire of a man for any object increases if he is restrained. And you must teach this lesson to Padmávatí also, O blameless one, and so that king may submit to our putting him off in this matter. And after this, I ween, you will behold my skill in stratagem. For the wise are tested in difficulty, even as heroes are tested in fight. So, queen, do not be despondent.” In these words Yaugandharáyaṇa admonished the queen, and, as she received his counsels with respect, he departed thence. But the king of Vatsa, throughout that day, neither in light nor darkness entered the private apartments of either of the two queens, for his mind was eager for a new well-matched union with Kalingasená, who had approached him in such an ardour of spontaneous choice. And then the queen and the prime-minister and the king and Kalingasená spent the night in wakefulness like that of a great feast, apart in their respective houses, the second couple through impatience for a rare delight, and the first through very profound anxiety.