Book XI
Chapter
LXVII
Honour to
the elephant-headed god who averts all hindrances, who is the cause of every
success, who ferries us over the sea of difficulties.
Thus
Naraváhanadatta obtained Śaktiyaśas, and besides he had those wives he married
before, Ratnaprabhá and others, and his consort the head wife Madanamanchuká,
and with them and his friends he led a happy life at the court of his father in
Kauśámbí.
Story of
the race between the elephant and the horses.
And one
day, when he was in the garden, two brothers, who were princes, and who had
come from a foreign land, suddenly paid him a visit. He received them
cordially, and they bowed before him, and one of them said to him; “We are the
sons by different mothers of a king in the city of Vaiśákha. My name is
Ruchiradeva and the name of this brother of mine is Potraka. I have a swift
female elephant, and he has two horses. And a dispute has arisen between us
about them; I say that the elephant is the fleetest, he maintains that his
horses are both fleeter. I have agreed that if I lose the race, I am to
surrender the elephant, but if he loses, he is to give me both his horses. Now
no one but you is fit to be a judge of their relative speed, so come to my
house, my lord, and preside over this trial. Accede to our request. For you are
the wishing-tree that grants all petitions, and we have come from afar to
petition you about this matter.”
When the
prince received this invitation from Ruchiradeva, he consented out of good
nature, and out of the interest he took in the elephant and the horses. He set
out in a chariot drawn by swift horses, which the brothers had brought, and he
reached with them that city of Vaiśákha. When he entered that splendid city,
the ladies, bewildered and excited, beheld him with eyes the lashes of which
were turned up, and made these comments on him; “Who can this be! Can it be the
god of Love new-created from his ashes without Rati? Or a second moon roaming
through the heaven without a spot on its surface? Or an arrow of desire made by
the Creator, in the form of a man, for the sudden complete overthrow of the
female heart.” Then the king beheld the all-lovely temple of the god of Love,
whose worship had been established there by men of old time. He entered and
worshipped that god, the source of supreme felicity, and rested for a moment,
and shook off the fatigue of the journey. Then he entered as a friend the house
of Ruchiradeva, which was near that temple, and was honoured by being made to
walk in front of him. He was delighted at the sight of that magnificent palace,
full of splendid horses and elephants, which was in a state of rejoicing on
account of his visit. There he was entertained with various hospitalities by
Ruchiradeva, and there he beheld his sister of splendid beauty. His mind and
his eyes were so captivated by her glorious beauty, that he forgot all about
his absence from home and his separation from his family. She too threw
lovingly upon him her expanded eye, which resembled a garland of full blown
blue lotuses, and so chose him as her husband. Her name was Jayendrasená, and
he thought so much upon her that the goddess of sleep did not take possession
of him at night, much less did other females.
The next
day Potraka brought that pair of horses equal to the wind in swiftness; but
Ruchiradeva, who was skilled in all the secrets of the art of driving, himself
mounted the female elephant, and partly by the animal’s natural speed, partly
by his dexterity in urging it on, beat them in the race. When Ruchiradeva had
beaten those two splendid horses, the son of the king of Vatsa entered the
palace, and at that very moment arrived a messenger from his father. The
messenger, when he saw the prince, fell at his feet, and said; “The king,
hearing from your retinue that you have come here, has sent me to you with this
message. ‘How comes it that you have gone so far from the garden without
letting me know? I am impatient for your return, so abandon the diversion that
occupies your attention, and return quickly.’” When he heard this message from
his father’s messenger, Naraváhanadatta, who was also intent on obtaining the
object of his flame, was in a state of perplexity.
And at that
very moment a merchant, in a great state of delight, came, bowing at a
distance, and praised that prince, saying, “Victory to thee, O thou god of love
without the flowery bow! Victory to thee, O Lord, the future emperor of the
Vidyádharas! Wast thou not seen to be charming as a boy, and when growing up,
the terror of thy foes? So surely the gods shall behold thee like Vishṇu,
striding victorious over the heaven, conquering Bali.” With these and other
praises the great merchant magnified the prince; then having been honoured by
him, he proceeded at his request to tell the story of his life.
Story of
the merchant and his wife Velá.
There is a
city called Lampá, the crown of the earth; in it there was a rich merchant
named Kusumasára. I, prince of Vatsa, am the son of that merchant, who lives
and moves in religion, and I was gained by the propitiation of Śiva. Once on a
time I went with my friends to witness a procession of idols, and I saw other
rich men giving to beggars. Then I formed the design of acquiring wealth to
give away, as I was not satisfied with the vast fortune accumulated by my
father. So I embarked in a ship, laden with many jewels, to go across the sea
to another country. And my ship, impelled by a favorable wind, as if by fate,
reached that island in a few days. There the king found out that I was an
unknown man dealing in valuable jewels, and out of avarice he threw me into
prison. While I was remaining in that prison, which resembled hell, on account
of its being full of howling criminals, suffering from hunger and thirst, like
wicked ghosts, a merchant, named Mahídhara, a resident in that town, who knew
my family, went and interceded with the king on my behalf, and said; “King,
this is the son of a great merchant, who lives in the city of Lampá, and, as he
is innocent, it is not creditable to your majesty to keep him in prison.” On
his making representations of this kind, the king ordered me to be released
from prison, and summoned me into his presence, and honoured me with a
courteous reception. So, by the favour of the king and the support of that
merchant, I remained there doing a splendid business.
One day I
saw, at a spring festival in a garden, a handsome girl, the daughter of a
merchant named Śikhara. I was quite carried off my feet by her, who was like a
wave of the sea of Love’s insolence, and when I found out who she was, I
demanded her in marriage from her father. Her father reflected for a moment,
and at last said to me; “I cannot give her to you myself, there is a reason for
my not doing so. But I will send her to her grandfather by the mother’s side,
in the island of Ceylon; go there and ask for her again, and marry her. And I
will send her there with such instructions that your suit will certainly be
accepted.” When Śikhara had said this, and had paid me the usual courtesies, he
dismissed me to my own house. And the next day he put the maiden on board ship,
with her attendants, and sent her to the island of Ceylon, across the sea.
I was
preparing with the utmost eagerness to go there, when this rumour, which was
terrible as a lightning-stroke, was spread abroad where I was; “The ship, in
which the daughter of Śikhara started, has gone to pieces in the open sea, and
not a soul has been saved out of it.” That report altogether broke down my
self-command, and being anxious about the ship, I suddenly fell into a hopeless
sea of despondency. So I, though comforted by my elders, made up my mind to
throw away my property and prospects, and I determined to go to that island to
ascertain the truth. Then, though patronized by the king and loaded with all
manner of wealth, I embarked in a ship on the sea and set out. Then a terrible
pirate, in the form of a cloud, suddenly arose against me as I was pursuing my
course, and discharged at me pattering drops of rain, like showers of arrows.
The contrary wind, which it brought with it, tossed my ship to and fro like
powerful destiny, and at last broke it up. My attendants and my wealth were
whelmed in the sea, but I myself, when I fell into the water, laid hold of a
large spar. By the help of this, which seemed like an arm suddenly extended to
me by the Creator, I managed to reach the shore of the sea, being slowly
drifted there by the wind. I climbed up upon it in great affliction, exclaiming
against destiny, and suddenly I found a little gold which had been left by
accident in an out-of-the-way part of the shore. I sold it in a neighbouring
village, and bought with it food and other necessaries, and after purchasing a
couple of garments, I gradually began to get over to a certain extent the
fatigue produced by my immersion in the sea.
Then I
wandered about, not knowing my way, separated from my beloved, and I saw the
ground full of lingas of Śiva formed of sand. And daughters of hermits were
wandering about among them. And in one place I saw a maiden engaged in
worshipping a linga, who was beautiful, although dressed in the garb of a
dweller in the forest. I began to think, “This girl is wonderfully like my
beloved. Can she be my beloved herself? But how comes it, that I am so lucky as
to find her here?” And while these thoughts were passing in my mind, my right
eye throbbed frequently, as if with joy, and told me that it was no other than
she. And I said to her, “Fair one, you are fitted to dwell in a palace, how
comes it that you are here in the forest?” But she gave me no answer. Then,
through fear of being cursed by a hermit, I stood concealed by a bower of
creepers, looking at her with an eye that could not have enough. And after she
had performed her worship, she went slowly away from the spot, as if thinking
over something, and frequently turned round to look at me with loving eye. When
she had gone out of sight, the whole horizon seemed to be obscured with
darkness as I looked at it, and I was in a strange state of perturbation like
the Brahmany drake at night.
And
immediately I beheld the daughter of the hermit Mátanga, who appeared
unexpectedly. She was in brightness like the sun, subject to a vow of chastity
from her earliest youth, with body emaciated by penance, she possessed divine
insight, and was of auspicious countenance like Resignation incarnate. She said
to me, “Chandrasára, call up all your patience and listen. There is a great
merchant in another island named Śikhara. When a lovely girl was born to him,
he was told by a mendicant, his friend, who possessed supernatural insight, and
whose name was Jinarakshita, ‘You must not give away this maiden yourself, for
she has another mother. You would commit a crime in giving her away yourself,
such is the righteous prescription of the law.’ Since the mendicant had told
him this, the merchant wished to give his daughter, when she was of
marriageable age, and you asked her hand, to you, by the agency of her maternal
grandfather. Then she was sent off on a voyage to her maternal grandfather in
the island of Ceylon, but the vessel was wrecked, and she fell into the sea.
And as she was fated not to die, a great wave brought her here like destiny,
and flung her up upon the shore. Just at that time my father, the hermit
Mátanga, came to the sea to bathe with his disciples, and saw her almost dead.
He, being of compassionate nature, brought her round, and took her to his
hermitage, and entrusted her to me saying—‘Yamuná, you must cherish this girl.’
And because he found her on the shore (velá) of the sea, he called the girl,
who was beloved by all the hermits, Velá. And though I have renounced the world
by a vow of perpetual chastity, it still impedes my soul, on account of my
affection for her, in the form of love and tenderness for offspring. And my
mind is grieved, Chandrasára, as often as I look upon her, unmarried, though in
the bloom of youth and beauty. Moreover she was your wife in a former life. So
knowing, my son, by the power of my meditation that you had come here, I have
come to meet you. Now follow me and marry that Velá, whom I will bestow on you.
Let the sufferings, which you have both endured, produce fruits of happiness.”
Speaking
thus, the saintly woman refreshed me with her voice as with cloudless rain, and
then she took me to the hermitage of her father, the great hermit Mátanga. And
at her request the hermit bestowed on me that Velá, like the happiness of the
kingdom of the imagination incarnate in bodily form. But one day, as I was
living happily with Velá, I commenced a splashing match with her in the water
of a tank. And I and Velá, not seeing the hermit Mátanga, who had come there to
bathe, sprinkled him inopportunely with some of the water which we threw. That
annoyed him, and he denounced a curse on me and my wife, saying, “You shall be
separated, you wicked couple.” Then Velá clung to his knees, and asked him with
plaintive voice to appoint a period for the duration of our curse, and he,
after thinking, fixed its end as follows, “When thou shalt behold at a distance
Naraváhanadatta the future mighty emperor of the Vidyádharas, who shall beat
with a swift elephant a pair of fleet horses, then thy curse shall be at an
end, and thou shalt be re-united with thy wife.” When the ṛishi Mátanga had
said this, he performed the ceremony of bathing and other ceremonies, and went
to Śvetadvípa through the air, to visit the shrine of Vishṇu. And Yamuná said
to me and my wife—“I give you now that shoe covered with valuable jewels, which
a Vidyádhara long ago obtained, when it had slipped off from Śiva’s foot, and
which I seized in childish sport.” Thereupon Yamuná also went to Śvetadvípa.
Then I having obtained my beloved, and being disgusted with dwelling in the
forest, through fear of being separated from my wife, felt a desire to return
to my own country. And setting out for my native land, I reached the shore of
the sea; and finding a trading vessel, I put my wife on board, and was
preparing to go on board myself, when the wind, conspiring with the hermit’s
curse, carried off that ship to a distance. When the ship carried off my wife
before my eyes, my whole nature was stunned by the shock, and distraction
seemed to have found an opening in me, and broke into me and robbed me of
consciousness. Then an ascetic came that way, and seeing me insensible, he
compassionately brought me round and took me to his hermitage. There he asked
me the whole story, and when he found out that it was the consequence of a
curse, and that the curse was to end, he animated me with resolution to bear
up. Then I found an excellent friend, a merchant, who had escaped from his ship
that had foundered in the sea, and I set out with him in search of my beloved.
And supported by the hope of the termination of the curse, I wandered through
many lands and lasted out many days, until I finally reached this city of
Vaiśákha, and heard that you, the jewel of the noble family of the king of
Vatsa, had come here. Then I saw you from a distance beat that pair of swift
horses with the female elephant, and the weight of the curse fell from me, and
I felt my heart lightened. And immediately I saw that dear Velá coming to meet
me, whom the good merchants had brought in their ship. Then I was re-united
with my wife, who had with her the jewels bestowed by Yamuná, and having by
your favour crossed the ocean of separation, I came here, prince of Vatsa, to
pay you my respects, and I will now set out cheerfully for my native land with
my wife.
When that
excellent merchant Chandrasára, who had accomplished his object, had gone,
after prostrating himself before the prince, and telling his story, Ruchiradeva,
pleased at beholding the greatness of his guest, was still more obsequious to
him. And in addition to the elephant and the pair of horses, he gave his
sister, making the duty of hospitality an excuse for doing so, to the prince
who was captivated by her beauty. She was a good match for the prince, and her
brother had long desired to bestow her upon him in marriage. Naraváhanadatta
then took leave of Ruchiradeva, and with his new wife, the elephant, and the
two horses, returned to the city of Kauśámbí. And he remained there, gladdening
his father with his presence, living happily with her and his other wives, of
whom Madanamanchuká was the chief.
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