Kathá Sarit Ságara Or Ocean of the Streams of Story. Book X. Chapter LVII.

 

Translation

Of the

Kathá Sarit Ságara

Or

Ocean of the Streams of Story.

Book X.

Chapter LVII.

 

We worship the elephantine proboseis of Gaṇeśa, not to be resisted by his enemies, reddened with vermilion, a sword dispelling great arrogance. May the third eye of Śiva, which, when all three were equally wildly-rolling, blazed forth beyond the others, as he made ready his arrow upon the string, for the burning of Pura, protect you. May the row of nails of the Man-lion, curved and red with blood, when he slew his enemy, and his fiery look askance, destroy your calamities.

 

Story of the porter who found a bracelet.

 

Thus Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa, remained in Kauśámbí in happiness, with his wives, and his ministers. And one day, when he was present, a merchant living in the city, came to make a representation to his father, as he was sitting on his throne. That merchant, of the name of Ratnadatta, entered, announced by the warder, and bowing before the king, said as follows: “O king, there is a poor porter here, of the name of Vasundhara; and suddenly he is found of late to be eating, drinking, and bestowing alms. So, out of curiosity, I took him to my house, and gave him food and drink to his heart’s content, and when I had made him drunk. I questioned him, and he gave me this answer, ‘I obtained from the door of the king’s palace a bracelet with splendid jewels, and I picked out one jewel and sold it. And I sold it for a lakh of dínárs to a merchant named Hiraṇyagupta; this is how I come to be living in comfort at present.” When he had said this, he shewed me that bracelet, which was marked with the king’s name, and therefore I have come to inform your majesty of the circumstance.” When the king of Vatsa heard that, he had the porter and the merchant of precious jewels summoned with all courtesy, and when he saw the bracelet, he said of himself; “Ah! I remember, this bracelet slipped from my arm when I was going round the city.” And the courtiers asked the porter, “Why did you, when you had got hold of a bracelet marked with the king’s name, conceal it?” He replied, “I am one who gets his living by carrying burdens, and how am I to know the letters of the king’s name? When I got hold of it, I appropriated it, being burnt up with the misery of poverty.” When he said this, the jewel-merchant, being reproached for keeping the jewel, said—“I bought it in the market, without putting any pressure on the man, and there was no royal mark upon it, though now it is said that it belongs to the king. And he has taken five thousand of the price, the rest is with me.” When Yaugandharáyaṇa, who was present, heard this speech of Hiraṇyagupta’s, he said—“No one is in fault in this matter. What can we say against the porter who does not know his letters? Poverty makes men steal, and who ever gave up what he had found? And the merchant who bought it from him cannot be blamed.” The king when he heard this decision of his prime minister’s, approved it. And he took back his jewel from the merchant, paying him the five thousand dínárs, which had been spent by the porter, and he set the porter at liberty, after taking back his bracelet, and he, having consumed his five thousand, went free from anxiety to his own house. And the king, though in the bottom of his heart he hated that merchant Ratnadatta, as being a man who ruined those that reposed confidence in him, honoured him for his service. When they had all departed, Vasantaka came before the king, and said, “Ah! when men are cursed by destiny, even the wealth they obtain departs, for the incident of the inexhaustible pitcher has happened to this porter.”

 

Story of the inexhaustible pitcher.

 

For you must know that there lived long ago, in the city of Páṭaliputra, a man of the name of Śubhadatta, and he every day carried in a load of wood from the forest, and sold it, and so maintained his household. Now one day he went to a distant forest, and, as it happened, he saw there four Yakshas with heavenly ornaments and dresses. The Yakshas, seeing he was terrified, kindly asked him of his circumstances, and finding out that he was poor, they conceived pity for him, and said—“Remain here as a servant in our house, we will support your family for you without trouble on your part.” When Śubhadatta heard that, he agreed, and remained with them, and he supplied them with requisites for bathing and performed other menial offices for them. When the time for eating came, those Yakshas said to him—“Give us food from this inexhaustible pitcher.” But he hesitated, seeing that it was empty, and then the Yakshas again said to him, smiling—“Śubhadatta, do you not understand? Put your hand in the pitcher, and you will obtain whatever you want, for this is a pitcher that supplies whatever is required.” When he heard that, he put his hand in the pitcher, and immediately he beheld all the food and drink that could be required. And Śubhadatta out of that store supplied them and ate himself.

 

Thus waiting on the Yakshas every day with devotion and awe, Śubhadatta remained in their presence anxious about his family. But his sorrowing family was comforted by them in a dream, and this kindness on their part made him happy. At the termination of one month the Yakshas said to him, “We are pleased with this devotion of yours, we will grant you a boon, say what it shall be.” When he heard that, he said to them, “Then give me this inexhaustible pitcher.” Then the Yakshas said to him, “You will not be able to keep it, for, if broken, it departs at once, so choose some other boon.” Though they warned him in these words, Śubhadatta would not choose any other boon, so they gave him that inexhaustible pitcher. Then Śubhadatta bowed before them delighted, and, taking that pitcher, quickly returned to his house, to the joy of his relations. Then he took out of that pitcher food and drink, and in order to conceal the secret, he placed them in other vessels, and consumed them with his relations. And as he gave up carrying burdens, and enjoyed all kinds of delights, his kinsmen one day said to him, when he was drunk; “How did you manage to acquire the means of all this enjoyment?” He was too much puffed up with pride to tell them plainly, but taking the wish-granting pitcher on his shoulder, he began to dance. And as he was dancing, the inexhaustible pitcher slipped from his shoulder, as his feet tripped with over-abundance of intoxication, and falling on the ground, was broken in pieces. And immediately it was mended again, and reverted to its original possessors, but Śubhadatta was reduced to his former condition, and filled with despondency.

 

“So you see that these unfortunate persons, whose intellects are destroyed with the vice of drinking, and other vices, and with infatuation, cannot keep wealth, even when they have obtained it.” When the king of Vatsa had heard this amusing story of the inexhaustible pitcher, he rose up, and bathed, and set about the other duties of the day. And Naraváhanadatta also bathed, and took food with his father, and at the end of the day went with his friends to his own house. There he went to bed at night, but could not sleep, and Marubhúti said to him in the hearing of the ministers: “I know, it is love of a slave-girl that prevents your summoning your wives, and you have not summoned the slave-girl, so you cannot sleep. But why in spite of your better knowledge do you still fall in love with hetæræ? For they have no goodness of character; in proof that they have not, hear the following tale:”

 

Story of the merchant’s son, the hetæra, and the wonderful ape Ála.

 

There is in this country a great and opulent city named Chitrakúṭa. In it there lived a merchant named Ratnavarman, a prince among the wealthy. He had one son born to him by propitiating Śiva, and he gave that son the name of Íśvaravarman. After he had studied the sciences, his father the rich merchant, who had no other son but him, seeing that he was on the verge of manhood, said to himself: “Providence has created in this world that fair and frail type of woman, the hetæra, to steal the wealth and life of rich young men blinded with the intoxication of youth. So I will entrust my son to some kuṭṭiní, in order that he may learn the tricks of the hetæræ and not be deceived by them.” Having thus reflected, he went with his son Íśvaravarman to the house of a certain kuṭṭiní, whose name was Yamajihvá. There he saw that kuṭṭiní, with massive jaw, and long teeth, and snub nose, instructing her daughter in the following words—“Every one is valued on account of wealth, a hetæra especially; and hetæræ who fall in love do not obtain wealth, therefore a hetæra should abandon passion. For rosy red, love’s proper hue, is the harbinger of eclipse to the hetæra as to the evening twilight; a properly trained hetæra should exhibit love without sincerity, like a well-trained actress. With that she should gain a man’s affections, then she should extract from him all his wealth, when he is ruined, she should finally abandon him, but if he should recover his wealth, she should take him back into favour. A hetæra, like a hermit, is the same towards a young man, a child, an old man, a handsome man, and a deformed man, and so she always attains the principal object of existence.” While the kuṭṭiní was delivering this lesson to her daughter, Ratnavarman approached her, and after she had welcomed him, he took a seat by her side. And he said to her—“Reverend mother, teach my son this skill of the hetæra, in order that he may become clever in it. And I will give you a thousand dínárs by way of recompense.” When the kuṭṭiní heard his desire, she consented, and he paid the dínárs, and made over his son Íśvaravarman to her, and then returned home.

 

Then Íśvaravarman, in the course of one year, learned in the house of Yamajihvá all the graceful accomplishments, and then returned to his father’s house. And after he had attained sixteen years, he said to his father—“Wealth gives us religion and love, wealth gives us consideration and renown.” When his father heard this, he exclaimed in approval, “It is even so,” and being delighted, he gave him five crores by way of capital. The son took it, and set out on an auspicious day with a caravan, with the object of journeying to Svarṇadvípa. And on the way he reached a town named Kánchanapura, and there he encamped in a garden, at a short distance outside the town. And after bathing and anointing himself, the young man entered the town, and went to a temple to see a spectacle. And there he saw a dancing-girl, of the name of Sundarí, dancing, like a wave of the sea of beauty tossed up by the wind of youth. And the moment he saw her, he became so devoted to her, that the instructions of the kuṭṭiní fled far from him, as if in anger. At the end of the dance, he sent a friend to solicit her, and she bowed and said—“I am highly favoured.” And Íśvaravarman left vigilant guards in his camp, to watch over his treasure, and went himself to the house of that Sundarí. And when he came, her mother, named Makarakaṭí, honoured him with the various rites of hospitality which became the occasion. And at nightfall she introduced him into a chamber with a canopy of flashing jewels and a bed. There he passed the night with Sundarí, whose name expressed her nature, and who was skilled in all movements of the dance. And the next day he could not bring himself to part from her, as she shewed great affection for him, and never left his side. And the young merchant gave her twenty-five lakhs of gold and jewels in those two days. But Sundarí, with a false affectation of disinterestedness, refused to take them, saying—“I have obtained much wealth, but I never found a man like you; since I have obtained you, what should I do with wealth?” But her mother Makarakaṭí, whose only child she was, said to her, “Henceforth, whatever wealth belongs to us, is as much his as his own property, so take it, my daughter, as a contribution to our common stock, what harm is there in that?” When Sundarí’s mother said this to her, she took it with affected unwillingness, and the foolish Íśvaravarman thought she was really in love with him. While the merchant remained in her house, charmed by her beauty, her dancing, and singing, two months passed, and in course of time he bestowed upon her two crores.

 

Then his friend, named Arthadatta, of his own accord came to him and said—“Friend, has all that training of yours, though painfully acquired from the kuṭṭiní, proved useless, now that the occasion has presented itself, as skill in the use of weapons does to a coward, in that you believe that there is sincerity in this love of a hetæra? Is water ever really found in desert-mirages? So let us go before all your wealth is consumed, for, if your father were to hear of it, he would be very angry.” When his friend said this to him, the merchant’s son said, “It is true that no reliance can be placed upon hetæræ as a rule, but Sundarí is not like the rest of her class, for, if she were to lose sight of me for a moment, my friend, she would die. So do you break it to her, if we must in any case go.”

 

When he said this to Arthadatta, Arthadatta said to Sundarí, in the presence of Íśvaravarman and her mother Makarakaṭí, “You entertain extraordinary affection for Íśvaravarman, but he must certainly go on a trading expedition to Svarṇadvípa immediately. There he will obtain so much wealth, that he will come and live with you in happiness all his life, consent to it, my friend.” When Sundarí heard this, she gazed on the face of Íśvaravarman with tears in her eyes and assumed despondency, and said to Arthadatta, “What am I to say? you gentlemen know best. Who can rely on any one before seeing the end? Never mind! Let fate deal with me as it will!” When she said this, her mother said to her, “Do not be grieved, control yourself; your lover will certainly return when he has made his fortune; he will not abandon you.” In these words her mother consoled her, but made an agreement with her, and had a net secretly prepared in a well, that lay in the road they must take. And then Íśvaravarman’s mind was in a state of tremulous agitation about parting, and Sundarí, as if out of grief, took but little food and drink. And she shewed no inclination for singing, music, or dancing, but she was consoled by Íśvaravarman with various affectionate attentions.

 

Then, on the day named by his friend, Íśvaravarman set out from the house of Sundarí, after the kuṭṭiní had offered a prayer for his success. And Sundarí followed him weeping, with her mother, outside the city, as far as the well in which the net had been stretched. There he made Sundarí turn back, and he was proceeding on his journey, when she flung herself into the well on the top of the net. Then a loud cry was heard from her mother, from the female slaves, and all the attendants, “Ah! my daughter! Ah! mistress!” That made the merchant’s son and his friend turn round, and when he heard that his beloved had thrown herself into a well, he was for a moment stupefied with grief. And Makarakaṭí, lamenting with loud cries, made her servants, who were attached to her, and in the secret, go down into the well. They let themselves down by means of ropes, and exclaiming, “Thank heaven, she is alive, she is alive,” they brought up Sundarí from the well. When she was brought up, she assumed the appearance of one nearly dead, and after she had mentioned the name of the merchant’s son, who had returned, she slowly began to cry. But he, being comforted, took her to her house in great delight, accompanied by his attendants, returning there himself. And having made up his mind that the love of Sundarí was to be relied on, and considering that, by obtaining her, he had obtained the real end of his birth, he once more gave up the idea of continuing his journey. And when he had taken up his abode there, determined to remain, his friend said to him once more, “My friend, why have you ruined yourself by infatuation? Do not rely on the love of Sundarí simply because she flung herself into a well, for the treacherous schemes of a kuṭṭiní are not to be fathomed even by Providence. And what what will you say to your father, when you have spent all your property, or where will you go? So leave this place even at this eleventh hour, if your mind is sound.” When the merchant’s son heard this speech of his friend’s, he paid no attention to it, and in another month he spent those other three crores. Then he was stripped of his all; and the kuṭṭiní Makarakaṭí had him seized by the back of the neck and turned out of Sundarí’s house.

 

But Arthadatta and the others quickly returned to their own city, and told the whole story, as it happened, to his father. His father Ratnavarman, that prince of merchants, was much grieved when he heard it, and in great distress went to the kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá, and said to her, “Though you received a large salary, you taught my son so badly, that Makarakaṭí has with ease stripped him of all his wealth.” When he had said this, he told her all the story of his son. Then the old kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá said: “Have your son brought back here; I will enable him to strip Makarakaṭí of all her wealth.” When the kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá made this promise, Ratnavarman quickly sent off that moment his son’s well-meaning friend Arthadatta with a message, to bring him, and to take at the same time means for his subsistence.

 

So Arthadatta went back to that city of Kánchanapura, and told the whole message to Íśvaravarman. And he went on to say to him—“Friend, you would not do what I advised you, so you have now had personal experience of the untrustworthy dispositions of hetæræ. After you had given that five crores, you were ejected neck and crop. What wise man looks for love in hetæræ or for oil in sand? Or why do you put out of sight this unalterable nature of things? A man is wise, self-restrained, and possesses happiness, only so long as he does not fall within the range of woman’s cajoleries. So return to your father and appease his wrath.” With these words Arthadatta quickly induced him to return, and encouraging him, led him into the presence of his father. And his father, out of love for his only son, spoke kindly to him, and again took him to the house of Yamajihvá. And when she questioned him, he told his whole story by the mouth of Arthadatta, down to the circumstance of Sundarí’s flinging herself into the well, and how he lost his wealth. Then Yamajihvá said—“I indeed am to blame, because I forgot to teach him this trick. For Makarakaṭí stretched a net in the well, and Sundarí flung herself upon that, so she was not killed. Still there is a remedy in this case.” Having said this, the kuṭṭiní made her female slaves bring her monkey named Ála. And in their presence she gave the monkey her thousand dínárs, and said—“Swallow these,” and the monkey, being trained to swallow money, did so. Then she said, “Now, my son give twenty to him, twenty-five to him, and sixty to him, and a hundred to him.” And the monkey, as often as Yamajihvá told him to pay a sum, brought up the exact number of dínárs, and gave them as commanded. And after Yamajihvá had shewn this device of Ála, she said to Íśvaravarman, “Now take with you this young monkey. And repair again to the house of Sundarí, and keep asking him day by day for sums of money, which you have secretly made him swallow. And Sundarí, when she sees Ála, resembling in his powers the wishing-stone, will beg for him, and will give you all she has so as to obtain possession of the ape, and clasp him to her bosom. And after you have got her wealth, make him swallow enough money for two days, and give him to her, and then depart to a distance without delay.”

 

After Yamajihvá had said this, she gave that ape to Íśvaravarman, and his father gave him two crores by way of capital. And with the ape and the money he went once more to Kánchanapura, and despatching a messenger on in front, he entered the house of Sundarí. Sundarí welcomed him as if he were an incarnation of perseverance, which includes in itself all means for attaining an end, and his friend with him, embracing him round the neck, and making other demonstrations. Then Íśvaravarman, having gained her confidence, said to Arthadatta in her presence in the house: “Go, and bring Ála.” He said, “I will,” and went and brought the monkey. And as the monkey had before swallowed a thousand dínárs, he said to him, “Ála, my son, give us to-day three hundred dínárs for our eating and drinking, and a hundred for betel and other expenses, and give one hundred to our mother Makarakaṭí, and a hundred to the Bráhmans, and give the rest of the thousand to Sundarí.” When Íśvaravarman said this, the monkey brought up the dínárs he had before swallowed, to the amounts ordered, and gave them for the various objects required.

 

So by this artifice Ála was made to supply every day the necessary expenses, for the period of a fortnight, and in the meanwhile Makarakaṭí and Sundarí began to think; “Why this is a very wishing-stone which he has got hold of in the form of an ape, which gives every day a hundred dínárs; if he would only give it us, all our desires would be accomplished.” Having thus debated in private with her mother, Sundarí said to that Íśvaravarman, when he was sitting at his ease after dinner,—“If you really are well pleased with me, give me Ála.” But when Íśvaravarman heard that, he answered laughingly, “He is my father’s all in the world, and it is not proper to give him away.” When he said this, Sundarí said to him again, “Give him me and I will give you five crores.” Thereupon Íśvaravarman said with an air of decision, “If you were to give me all your property, or indeed this city, it would not do to give him you, much less for your crores.” When Sundarí heard this, she said, “I will give you all I possess; but give me this ape, otherwise my mother will be angry with me.” And thereupon she clung to Íśvaravarman’s feet. Then Arthadatta and the others said, “Give it her, happen what will.” Then Íśvaravarman promised to give it her, and he spent the day with the delighted Sundarí. And the next day he gave to Sundarí, at her earnest entreaties, that ape, which had in secret been made to swallow two thousand dínárs, and he immediately took by way of payment all the wealth in her house, and went off quickly to Svarṇadvípa to trade.

 

And to Sundarí’s delight, the monkey Ála, when asked, gave her regularly a thousand dínárs for two days. But on the third day he did not give her anything, though coaxed to do it, then Sundarí struck the ape with her fist. And the monkey, being beaten, sprang up in a rage, and bit and scratched the faces of Sundarí and her mother, who were thrashing him. Then the mother, whose face was streaming with blood, flew in a passion and beat the ape with sticks, till he died on the spot. When Sundarí saw that he was dead, and reflected that all her wealth was gone, she was ready to commit suicide for grief, and so was her mother. And when the people of the town heard the story, they laughed and said, “Because Makarakaṭí took away this man’s wealth by means of a net, he in his turn has stripped her of all her property, like a clever fellow that he is, by means of a pet; she was sharp enough to net him, but did not detect the net laid for herself. Then Sundarí, with her scratched face and vanished wealth, was with difficulty restrained by her relations from destroying herself, and so was her mother. And Íśvaravarman soon returned from Svarṇadvípa to the house of his father in Chitrakúṭa. And when his father saw him returned, having acquired enormous wealth, he rewarded the kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá with treasure, and made a great feast. And Íśvaravarman, seeing the matchless deceitfulness of hetæræ, became disgusted with their society, and taking a wife remained in his own house.

 

“So you see, king, that there never dwells in the minds of hetæræ even an atom of truth, unalloyed with treachery, so a man who desires prosperity should not take pleasure in them, as their society is only to be gained by the wealthy, any more than in uninhabited woods to be crossed only with a caravan.”

 

“When Naraváhanadatta heard, from the mouth of Marubhúti, the above story, word for word, of Ála and the net, he and Gomukha approved it, and laughed heartily.