Chapter CXIX.
Then
king Merudhvaja, seeing that Malayadhvaja was thus overpowered with the fever
of love, said to his queen, “If those two daughters of Trailokyamálin, whom I
saw in Pátála, do not become the wives of my two sons, what advantage shall I
have gained? And my son Malayadhvaja is consumed with smouldering flame,
because he cannot obtain the younger of the two, though shame makes him conceal
the fire of love. It is for this very reason that, though I promised
Trailokyamálin’s queen that I would set him at liberty, I do not at once make
my promise good. For, if he is set free from his imprisonment, his pride as an
Asura will prevent his ever giving his daughters to my sons as being men. So it
is now advisable to propose this matter to him in a conciliatory manner.”
When he had gone through these reflections
with the queen, he said to his warder, “Go to the cave of Śvetaśaila, and say, as from me, in a kind manner to Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, who is imprisoned there, ‘King of the Daityas, by the appointment of Destiny you have been long afflicted here, so now do what I advise, and bring your affliction to an end. Give to my two sons your two daughters, who fell in love with them at first sight, and thus procure your release, and rule your kingdom, after you have given security for your fidelity.’”
With
this message the king sent off his warder, and he went and delivered it to the
Daitya monarch in that cave. The monarch answered, “I will not give my two
daughters to two men;” and the warder returned and reported his answer to the
king.
Then
king Merudhvaja began to look about for some other means of attaining his end,
and in the course of some days Svayamprabhá heard how he had sped, so she again
sent Indumatí from Pátála to his palace with a message.
And
Indumatí arrived, and had herself announced by the female warder, and went into
the presence of the great queen, who received her graciously. And she bowed
before her, and said to her, “Queen, queen Svayamprabhá sends you this message,
‘Have you forgotten your own promise? The seas and the principal mountains will
suffer change at the day of doom, but the promises of people like you will not
change even then. Although my husband has not consented to bestow our daughters
as you wished, reflect, how could he have given them as a present while himself
a prisoner? If you release him in a proper way as an act of kindness, he will
certainly make you a return by giving you his daughters. Otherwise Svayamprabhá
and her daughters will abandon their lives, and in this way you will fail to
obtain daughters-in-law, and also to keep your promise? So manage, queen, to
make the king set our lord free on the conditions of compact and security and
so on, in order that all may turn out well; and accept this ornament sent by
Svayamprabhá, studded with various gems, that confer the power of becoming a
Vidyádhara, and other advantages.’”
When
Indumatí said this, the queen answered her, “How can I take this from your
mistress now that she is in trouble?” But Indumatí urged her vehemently to take
it, saying, “We shall be quite unhappy if you refuse to accept it, but if you take
it, we shall consider our affliction alleviated.” Being thus strongly urged by
Indumatí, the queen took from her that jewelled ornament, to comfort her; and
she made her wait there, saying to her, “Remain here, noble lady, until the
king shall come this way.”
In
the meanwhile the king came there, and Indumatí rose up, and having been
introduced by the queen, bowed before him, and he received her graciously. And
she gave to that king a crest-jewel sent by Svayamprabhá, that was a talisman
against poison, Rákshasas, old age, and disease. The king said, “I will accept
this jewel when I have kept my promise; but the ready-witted Indumatí said to
him, “A promise made by the king is as good as kept. But, if your Majesty will
accept this, we shall be very much comforted.” When she made this speech, the
queen observed, “Well said,” and took that crest-jewel, and fastened it on the
king’s head.
Then
Indumatí repeated to the king the message of Svayamprabhá, as she had delivered
it to the queen; then the king, being entreated to the same effect by the
queen, went on to say to Indumatí, “Remain here for to-day; to-morrow morning I
will give you an answer.”
Having
said this, king Merudhvaja allowed a night to pass, and the next morning he
summoned his ministers, and said to Indumatí, “Noble lady, go with these
ministers of mine, and after informing Trailokyamálin, bring from Pátála those
Asura ladies, Svayamprabhá and the others, and all the principal inhabitants of
Pátála, and the water of ordeal connected with Háṭakeśvara,
in a sealed vessel. And let Svayamprabhá and the others touch the feet of
Svayamprabhá’s husband, in the presence of my ministers, and by solemn oaths
make themselves sureties for this, namely, that Trailokyamálin, with his
friends and servants, shall ever remain firm in his allegiance to me, and that
the Nágas shall not injure the crops. And let all the lords in Pátála be
sureties to the same effect, and let them all, with their king, give their
children as hostages, and let them all, with their king, put this in writing,
and drink the water of ordeal in which the image of Háṭakeśvara
has been washed: then I will release Trailokyamálin from prison.”
Having
said so much, the king sent off Indumatí with his ministers. She went with
them, and informed Trailokyamálin of what was being done, and as he approved of
her proceedings, she went in the same way to Pátála, and she brought there
Svayamprabhá and the others, and the water of ordeal, and she made them all do
in the presence of the king’s ministers all that he had prescribed. And when
king Trailokyamálin had in this way given security, king Merudhvaja set him
free from prison with his suite. And he had brought him to his own palace with
his family and his attendants, and courteously entertained him; and then he
took possession of all the jewels of the Asuras, and sent Trailokyamálin back
to his kingdom. And Trailokyamálin returned to Rasátala his home, and having
recovered his kingdom, rejoiced with his servants and relations. And Merudhvaja
filled the earth with abundant treasures that came from Pátála, as a rain-cloud
showers water.
Then
Trailokyamálin, the king of the Daityas, took counsel with his wife, desiring
to bestow his two beautiful daughters on Merudhvaja’s sons, and he invited him
to his palace, with his relations, and came himself to escort him there,
remembering the benefit conferred on him. So he came to king Merudhvaja, who
entertained him, and then he said to him, “On a former occasion, your great joy
prevented your seeing Rasátala properly. But now come and see it, while we give
ourselves up to attending on you; and accept from me my two beautiful daughters
for your sons.”
When
the Asura king had said this to Merudhvaja, the latter summoned his wife and
his two sons. And he told them the speech of the Asura king, and how he
proposed to give his two daughters; then his eldest son Muktáphaladhvaja said
to him, “I will not marry until I have propitiated Śiva; I said this long ago;
you must pardon this fault in me. When I have gone, let Malayadhvaja marry; for
he will never be happy without that Pátála maiden.” When the younger son heard
this, he said to his elder brother, “Noble sir, while you are alive, I will
never perform such a disgraceful and unrighteous act.” Then king Merudhvaja
earnestly exhorted Muktáphaladhvaja to marry, but he would not consent to do
so; and therefore Trailokyamálin took leave of the king, who was in a state of despondency,
and went back with his suite to Pátála as he had come.
There
he told what had taken place and said to his wife and son, “Observe how
exclusively bent on humiliating us Fortune is. Those very men, to whom formerly
I refused to give my daughters in marriage when they asked for them, now refuse
to accept them, though I ask them to do so.” When they heard it, they said,
“Who can tell how this matter is in the mind of Destiny? Can Śiva’s promise be
falsified?”
While
they were saying these things, those maidens, Trailokyaprabhá and
Tribhuvanaprabhá, heard what had happened, and took upon them the following
vow, “We will remain without food for twelve days, and if at the end of that
time the god does not shew us favour by bringing about our marriage, we will
enter the fire together, and we will not preserve our bodies for insult, or
merely for the sake of continuing in life.” When the daughters of the Daitya
sovereign had made this vow, they remained fasting in front of the god, engaged
in meditation and muttering prayers. And their mother and their father the
sovereign of the Daityas, hearing of it, and being very fond of their
daughters, remained fasting in the same way.
Then
Svayamprabhá their mother quickly sent off Indumatí once more to Merudhvaja’s
queen consort, to tell her how matters were going. She went and told that queen
the trouble in her master’s house, and so Merudhvaja also came to hear of it.
Then that couple abandoned food out of regard for the other royal couple, and
their sons did so as well, out of regard for their parents.
Thus
in two worlds the royal families were in trouble. And Muktáphaladhvaja remained
without eating, and meditated on Śiva as his refuge. And, after six nights had
passed, in the morning the prince woke up, and said to his friend Mahábuddhi,
who had formerly been Saṃyataka, “My friend,
I remember that last night in a dream I mounted my steed given me by the hermit
Tapodhana, that changes its shape at will, and goes where the mind directs, and
had become a flying chariot, and, in my despondency I went to a heavenly temple
of Śiva, very far from here, on the slope of Meru. There I saw a certain
celestial maiden emaciated with austerities; and a certain man with matted
hair, pointing to her, said to me laughing, ‘You have come here in this way to
escape from one maiden, and lo! here is another waiting for you.’ When I heard
this speech of his, I remained gazing at the beauty of that maiden, but found
it impossible to gaze my fill, and so at the end of the night I suddenly woke
up.
“So
I will go there to obtain that heavenly maiden, and if I do not find her there,
I will enter the fire. What can Destiny mean, by causing my mind to become
attached to this maiden seen in a dream, after rejecting, in the way I did, the
Daitya maiden, offered to me a short time ago? At any rate, I am persuaded
that, if I go there, good fortune will certainly befall me.”
Having
said this, he called to mind that vehicle given to him by the hermit, which
would carry him to any place conceived in the mind, and assume any desired
form. It turned into an air-going chariot, and he mounted it, and set out for
that heavenly temple of Śiva, and when he reached it, he saw that it was just
as it had seemed in his dream, and he rejoiced. Then he proceeded to perform
religious ablution with all the attendant rites, in the holy water there, named
Siddhodaka, with no one to wait on him but his friend.
Then
his father king Merudhvaja, who was in his own city, emaciated with fasting,
accompanied by his wife, son, and suite, heard that he had gone off somewhere
secretly, and became bewildered with grief. And all this was at once known in
Pátála, exactly as it had taken place. Then Trailokyamálin took with him his
two daughters, and came fasting, with his wife and suite, to visit king
Merudhvaja. And they all resolved on the following course of action; “Surely,
as it is the fourteenth day, the prince has gone somewhere to worship Śiva; so
we will wait for him here this day. But to-morrow, if he has not returned, we
will go where he is: then, happen what will.”
In
the meanwhile Padmávatí, who was in that hermitage of Śiva, named Meghavana,
said that very day to her ladies-in-waiting; “My friends, I remember that last
night I went in a dream to Siddhíśvara, and a certain man wearing matted hair
came out of the temple of the god, and said to me, ‘My daughter, thy sorrow is
at an end, thy reunion with thy husband is nigh at hand.’ When he had said
this, he departed, and night and sleep left me together. So come, let us go
there.” When Padmávatí had said this, she went to that temple of Gaurí on the
slope of Meru.
There
she saw with astonishment that Muktáphaladhvaja at a distance bathing in
Siddhodaka, and she said to her friends, “This man is like my beloved. Observe how
very like he is. Wonderful! Can he be the very same? It cannot be, for he is a
mortal.” When her ladies-in-waiting heard that, and saw him, they said to her,
“Princess, not only is this man very like your beloved, but observe, his
companion also bears a resemblance to your lover’s friend Saṃyataka.
So we know for certain that, in accordance with your last night’s dream which
you related to us, Śiva has by his power brought those two here, after their
becoming incarnate as men owing to a curse. Otherwise, how, being mortals,
could they have come to this region of the gods?” When Padmávatí had been thus
addressed by her ladies-in-waiting, she worshipped Śiva, and in a state of
eager excitement, remained concealed near the god’s symbol to find out who the
stranger was.
In
the meanwhile Muktáphaladhvaja, having bathed, came into the temple to worship
the god, and after looking all round, said to Mahábuddhi, “Strange to say, here
is that very temple, which I saw in my dream, made of precious stone, with the
form of Śiva visible within the linga. And now I behold here those very
localities, which I saw in my dream, full of jewel-gleaming trees, which are
alive with heavenly birds. But I do not see here that heavenly maiden, whom I
then saw; and if I do not find her, I am determined to abandon the body in this
place.”
When
he said this, Padmávatí’s ladies-in-waiting said to her in a whisper, “Listen!
it is certain that he has come here, because he saw you here in a dream, and if
he does not find you, he intends to surrender his life; so let us remain here
concealed, and see what he means to do.”
And
while they remained there in concealment, Muktáphaladhvaja entered, and
worshipped the god, and came out. And when he came out, he devoutly walked
round the temple three times, keeping his right hand towards it, and then he
and his friend remembered their former birth, and in their joy they were
telling to one another the events of their life as Vidyádharas, when Padmávatí
met their view. And Muktáphaladhvaja, remembering the occurrences of his former
life, as soon as he saw her, was filled with joy, and said to his friend, “Lo!
this very princess Padmávatí, the lady I saw in my dream! and she has come here
by good luck; so I will at once go and speak to her.”
When
he had said this, he went up to her weeping and said, “Princess, do not go away
anywhere now; for I am your former lover Muktáphalaketu. I became a man by the
curse of the hermit Dṛiḍhavrata,
and I have now remembered my former birth.” When he had said this, he tried, in
his eagerness, to embrace her. But she was alarmed and made herself invisible,
and remained there with her eyes full of tears: and the prince, not seeing her,
fell on the ground in a swoon.
Then
his friend sorrowfully spoke these words into the air, “How is it, princess
Padmávatí, that, now this lover has come, for whom you suffered such severe
austerities, you will not speak to him? I too am Saṃyataka
the comrade of your beloved: why do you not say something kind to me, as I was
cursed for you?” After saying this, he restored the prince, and said to him,
“This punishment has come upon you as the result of the crime you committed in
not accepting the Daitya princess, who offered herself to you out of love.”
When
Padmávatí, who was concealed, heard this, she said to her ladies-in-waiting,
“Listen, he has no inclination for Asura maidens.” Then her ladies said to her,
“You see that all tallies together. Do you not remember that long ago, when
your beloved was cursed, he craved as a boon from the hermit Tapodhana, that
while he was a man, his heart might never be inclined to any one but Padmávatí.
It is in virtue of that boon that he now feels no love for other women.” When
the princess heard this, she was bewildered with doubt.
Then
Muktáphaladhvaja, who had no sooner seen his beloved, than she disappeared from
his eyes, cried out, “Ah! my beloved Padmávatí, do you not see that when I was
a Vidyádhara, I incurred a curse in Meghavana for your sake? And now be assured
that I shall meet my death here.”
When
Padmávatí heard him utter this and other laments, she said to her ladies-in-waiting,
“Though all indications seem to tally, still these two may possibly have heard
these things at some time or other by communication from mouth to mouth, and
therefore my mind is not convinced. But I cannot bear to listen to his
sorrowful exclamations, so I will go to that temple of Gaurí; moreover it is
the hour of worship for me there.” When Padmávatí had said this, she went with
her ladies-in-waiting to that hermitage of Ambiká, and after worshipping the
goddess she offered this prayer, “If the man I have just seen in Siddhíśvara is
really my former lover, bring about for me, goddess, my speedy reunion with
him.”
And
while Padmávatí was there, longing for her beloved, Muktáphaladhvaja, who had
remained behind in Siddhíśvara, said to his friend Mahábuddhi, who had been in
a former life his friend Saṃyataka, “I am
convinced, my friend, that she has gone to her own haunt, that temple of Gaurí;
so come, let us go there.” When he had said this, he ascended that chariot of
his, which went wherever the mind desired, and flew to that hermitage of
Ambiká.
When
Padmávatí’s ladies-in-waiting saw him afar off, coming down in the chariot from
the sky, they said to Padmávatí, “Princess, behold this marvel. He has come
here also, travelling in an air-going chariot; how can he, a mere man, have
such power?” Then Padmávatí said, “My friends, do you not remember that on Dṛiḍhavrata,
who cursed him, I laid the following curse, ‘When my beloved is incarnate as a
man, you shall be his vehicle, assuming any desired shape, and moving in
obedience to a wish.’ So, no doubt, this is that hermit’s pupil, his vehicle,
wearing at present the form of an air-going chariot, and by means of it he
roams everywhere at will.”
When
she said this, her ladies-in-waiting said to her, “If you know this to be the
case, princess, why do you not speak to him? What are you waiting for?” When
Padmávatí heard this speech of her ladies’, she went on to say, “I think that
this probably is the case, but I am not absolutely certain as yet. But, even supposing
he really is my beloved, how can I approach him, now that he is not in his own
body, but in another body? So, let us for a time watch his proceedings, being
ourselves concealed.” When the princess had said this, she remained there
concealed, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting.
Then
Muktáphaladhvaja descended from the chariot in that hermitage of Ambiká, and
being full of longing, said to his friend, “Here I had my first interview with
my beloved, when she had been terrified by the Rákshasís; and I again saw her
in the garden here, when she came having chosen me for her own; and here I
received the curse, and she wished to follow me by dying; but was, though with
difficulty, prevented by that great hermit: and now, see, that very same lady
flies out of reach of my eyes.”
When
Padmávatí heard him speak thus, she said to her ladies-in-waiting, “True, my
friends, it is really my beloved, but how can I approach him, before he has
entered his former body? In this matter Siddhíśvara is my only hope. He sent me
the dream, and he will provide for me a way out of my difficulties.” When she
had formed this resolution, she went back to Siddhíśvara. And she worshipped
that manifestation of Śiva, and offered this prayer to him, “Unite me with my
beloved in his former body, or bestow death on me. I see no third way of escape
from my woe.” And then she remained with her friends in the court of the god’s
temple.
In
the meanwhile Muktáphaladhvaja searched for the princess in the temple of
Gaurí, and not finding her was despondent, and said to that friend, “I have not
found her here; let us go back to that temple of Śiva; if I cannot find her
there, I will enter the fire.”
When
that friend heard it, he said, “Good luck will befall you! The word of the
hermit and Śiva’s promise in your dream cannot be falsified.” With those words
did Muktáphaladhvaja’s friend try to comfort him; and then Muktáphaladhvaja
ascended the chariot, and went with him to Siddhíśvara.
When
Padmávatí saw him arrive, she still remained there invisible, and she said to
her ladies-in-waiting, “Look! he has come to this very place.” He too entered,
and seeing that offerings had been recently placed in front of the god, prince
Muktáphaladhvaja said to that companion of his, “Look, my friend, some one has
been quite recently worshipping this symbol of the god; surely, that beloved of
mine must be somewhere here, and she must have done this worship.” When he had
said this, he looked for her, but could not find her; and then in the anguish
of separation he cried out again and again, “Ah! my beloved Padmávatí!”
Then,
thinking that the cry of the cuckoo was her voice, and that the tail of the
peacock was her hair, and that the lotus was her face, the prince ran wildly
about, overpowered with an attack of the fever of love, and with difficulty did
his friend console him; and coaxing him, he said to him, “What is this that you
have taken up, being weak with much fasting? Why do you disregard your own
welfare, though you have conquered the earth and Pátála? Your father
Merudhvaja, and king Trailokyamálin, the king of the Dánavas, your future
father-in-law, and his daughter Trailokyaprabhá, who wishes to marry you, and
your mother Vinayavatí, and your younger brother Malayadhvaja will, if you do
not go to them, suspect that some misfortune has happened, and fasting as they
are, will give up their breath. So come along! Let us go and save their lives,
for the day is at an end.”
When
Muktáphaladhvaja’s friend said this to him, he answered him, “Then go yourself
in my chariot and comfort them.” Then his friend said, “How will that hermit’s
pupil, who has been made your vehicle by a curse, submit to me?” When the
prince’s friend said this, he replied, “Then wait a little, my friend; let us
see what will happen here.”
When
Padmávatí heard this conversation of theirs, she said to her ladies-in-waiting,
“I know that this is my former lover by all the notes tallying, but he is
degraded by the curse, being enclosed in a human body, and I too am thus
afflicted with a curse, because I laughed at the Siddha-maiden.” While she was
saying this, the moon rose, red in hue, the fire that devours the forest of
separated lovers. And gradually the moonlight filled the world on every side,
and the flame of love’s fire filled the heart of Muktáphaladhvaja.
Then
the prince began to lament like a chakraváka at the approach of night; and
Padmávatí, who was concealed, being despondent, said to him, “Prince, though
you are my former lover, still, as you are now in another body, you are to me a
strange man, and I am to you as the wife of another; so why do you lament again
and again? Surely some means will be provided, if that speech of the hermit’s
was true.”
When
Muktáphaladhvaja heard this speech of hers, and could not see her, he fell into
a state which was painful from the contending emotions of joy and despondency;
and he said to her, “Princess, my former birth has returned to my recollection,
and so I recognised you, as soon as I saw you, for you still wear your old
body, but as you saw me when I was dwelling in my Vidyádhara body, how can you
recognise me, now that I am in a mortal body? So I must certainly abandon this
accursed frame.” When he had said this, he remained silent, and his beloved
continued in concealment.
Then,
the night being almost gone, and his friend Mahábuddhi, who was formerly Saṃyataka,
having gone to sleep out of weariness, prince Muktáphaladhvaja, thinking that
he could never obtain Padmávatí, as long as he continued in that body,
collected wood, and lighted a fire; and worshipped Śiva embodied in the linga,
uttering this prayer, “Holy one, may I by thy favour return to my former body,
and soon obtain my beloved Padmávatí!” And having said this, he consumed his
body in that blazing fire.
And
in the meanwhile Mahábuddhi woke up, and not being able, in spite of careful
search, to find Muktáphaladhvaja, and seeing the fire blazing up, he came to
the conclusion that his friend, distracted with separation, had burnt himself,
and out of regret for his loss, he flung himself into that same fire.
When
Padmávatí saw that, she was tortured with grief, and she said to her
ladies-in-waiting, “Alas! Fie! the female heart is harder than the thunderbolt,
otherwise my breath must have left me beholding this horror. So, how long am I
to retain this wretched life? Even now, owing to my demerits, there is no end
to my woe; moreover, the promise of that hermit has been falsified; so it is
better that I should die. But it is not fitting that I should enter this fire
and be mixed up with strange men, so in this difficult conjuncture hanging,
which gives no trouble, is my best resource.” When the princess had said this,
she went in front of Śiva, and proceeded to make a noose by means of a creeper,
which she fastened to an aśoka-tree.
And
while her ladies-in-waiting were trying to prevent her by encouraging speeches,
that hermit Tapodhana came there. He said, “My daughter, do not act rashly,
that promise of mine will not be falsified. Be of good courage, you shall see
that husband of yours come here in a moment. His curse has been just now
cancelled by virtue of your penance; so why do you now distrust the power of
your own austerities? And why do you shew this despondency when your marriage
is at hand? I have come here because I learnt all this by my power of
meditation.” When Padmávatí saw the hermit approaching uttering these words,
she bowed before him, and was for a moment, as it were, swung to and fro by
perplexity. Then her beloved Muktáphalaketu, having by the burning of his mortal
body entered his own Vidyádhara body, came there with his friend. And
Padmávatí, seeing that son of the king of the Vidyádharas coming through the
air, as a female chátaka beholds a fresh rain-cloud, or a kumudvatí the full
moon newly risen, felt indescribable joy in her heart. And Muktáphalaketu, when
he saw her, rejoiced, and so to speak, drank her in with his eyes, as a
traveller, wearied with long wandering in a desert, rejoices, when he beholds a
river. And those two, reunited like a couple of chakravákas by the termination
of the night of their curse, took their fill of falling at the feet of that
hermit of glowing brilliancy. Then that great hermit welcomed them in the
following words, “My heart has been fully gratified to-day by seeing you reunited,
happy at having come to the end of your curse.”
And
when the night had passed, king Merudhvaja came there in search of them,
mounted on the elephant of Indra, accompanied by his wife and his youngest son,
and also Trailokyamálin the sovereign of the Daityas, with his daughter
Trailokyaprabhá, mounted on a chariot, attended by his harem and his suite.
Then the hermit pointed out Muktáphalaketu to those two kings and described
what had taken place, how he had become a man by a curse, in order to do a service
to the gods, and how he had been delivered from his human condition. And when
Merudhvaja and the others heard that, though they were before eager to throw
themselves into the fire, they bathed in Siddhodaka and worshipped Śiva, by the
hermit’s direction, and were at once delivered from their sorrow. Then that
Trailokyaprabhá suddenly called to mind her birth and said to herself “Truly I
am that same Devaprabhá, the daughter of the king of the Siddhas, who, when
undergoing austerities in order that the emperor of all the Vidyádharas might
be my husband, was ridiculed by Padmávatí, and entered the fire to gain the
fulfilment of my desire. And now I have been born in this Daitya race, and here
is this very prince with whom I was in love, who has recovered his Vidyádhara
body. But it is not fitting that, now that his body is changed, he should be
united to this body of mine, so I will consume my Asura body also in the fire,
in order to obtain him.”
Having
gone through these reflections in her mind, and having communicated her
intention to her parents, she entered the fire which had consumed
Muktáphaladhvaja; and then the god of fire himself appeared with her, on whom
out of pity he had bestowed her former body, and said to Muktáphaladhvaja,
“Muktáphaladhvaja, this lady Devaprabhá, the daughter of the king of the
Siddhas, for thy sake abandoned her body in me; so receive her as thy wife.”
When the god of fire had said this, he disappeared; and Brahmá came there with
Indra and the rest of the gods, and Padmaśekhara the king of the Gandharvas,
with Chandraketu, the sovereign of the Vidyádharas. Then that prosperous king
of the Gandharvas gave his daughter Padmávatí, with due rites and much activity
on the part of his followers, as wife to Muktáphalaketu, who bowed before him,
congratulated by all. And then that prince of the Vidyádharas, having obtained
that beloved, whom he had so long desired, considered that he had gathered the
fruit of the tree of his birth, and married also that Siddha-maiden. And prince
Malayadhvaja was united to that Daitya princess, his beloved Tribhuvanaprabhá,
whom her father bestowed on him with due rites. Then Merudhvaja, having, on
account of his son Malayadhvaja’s complete success, anointed him to be sole
ruler of a kingdom extending over the earth with all its islands, went with his
wife to the forest to perform austerities. And Trailokyamálin, the king of the
Daityas, went with his wife to his own region, and Indra gave to Muktáphalaketu
the splendid kingdom of Vidyuddhvaja. And this voice came from heaven, “Let
this Muktáphalaketu enjoy the sovereignty over the Vidyádharas and Asuras, and
let the gods go to their own abodes!” When they heard that voice, Brahmá and
Indra and the other gods went away delighted, and the hermit Tapodhana went
with his pupil, who was released from his curse, and Chandraketu went to his
own Vidyádhara home, with his son Muktáphalaketu who was graced by two wives.
And there the king, together with his son, long enjoyed the dignity of emperor
over the Vidyádharas, but at last he threw on him the burden of his kingdom,
and, disgusted with the world and its pleasures, went with the queen to an
ascetic grove of hermits. And Muktáphalaketu, having before obtained from Indra
the rule over the Asuras, and again from his father the empire over the
Vidyádharas, enjoyed, in the society of Padmávatí, who seemed like an
incarnation of happiness, for ten kalpas, the good fortune of all the pleasures
which the sway of those two wealthy realms could yield, and thus obtained the
highest success. But he saw that passions are in their end distasteful, and at
last he entered a wood of mighty hermits, and by the eminence of his asceticism
obtained the highest glory, and became a companion of the lord Śiva.
Thus
king Brahmadatta and his wife and his minister heard this romantic tale from
the couple of swans, and gained knowledge from their teaching, and obtained the
power of flying through the air like gods; and then they went accompanied by
those two birds to Siddhíśvara, and there they all laid aside the bodies they
had entered in consequence of the curse, and were reinstated in their former
position as attendants upon Śiva.
Hearing
this story from Gomukha in the absence of Madanamanchuká, for a moment only,
hermits, I cheered my heart with hope.
When
the emperor Naraváhanadatta had told this story, those hermits in the hermitage
of Kaśyapa, accompanied by Gopálaka, rejoiced exceedingly.
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