INFORMATION TO USERS
This manuscript has been reproduced from the microfilm master. UMI films the text directly from the original or copy submitted. Thus, some thesis and dissertation copies are in typewriter face, while others may be from any type of computer printer.
The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. Broken or indistinct print, colored or poor quality illustrations and photographs, print bleedthrough, substandard margins, and improper alignment can adversely affect reproduction.
In the unlikely event that the author did not send UMI a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if unauthorized copyright material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion.
Oversize materials (e.g., maps, drawings, charts) are reproduced by sectioning the original, beginning at the upper left-hand corner and continuing from left to right in equal sections with small overlaps. Each original is also photographed in one exposure and is included in reduced form at the back of the book.
Photographs included in the original manuscript have been reproduced xerographically in this copy. Higher quality 6" x 9" black and white photographic prints are available for any photographs or illustrations appearing in this copy for an additional charge. Contact UMI directly to order.
University Microfilms International A Bell & Howell Information Company 300 North Zeeb Road. Ann Arbor, Ml 48106-1346 USA 313/761-4700 800/521-0600
Order Number 1346011
Transcribing the “Ocean of Story”: Rewriting C. H. Tawney’s translation of the “Katha Sarit Sagara”, a medieval Sanskrit text by Somadeva Bhatta
Surla Koons, Stacy Merrill, M.A.
The American University, 1991
UMI 300 N. Zeeb Rd. Ann Arbor, MI 48106
TRANSCRIBING THE OCEAN OF STORY: REWRITING C.H. TAWNEY’S TRANSLATION OF THE KATHA SARIT SAGARA. A MEDIEVAL SANSKRIT TEXT BY SOMADEVA BHATTA by Stacy Surla Koons submitted to the Faculty of the College of Arts and Sciences of The American University in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts in Literature
Signatures of the Committee: Chair: JI %L
D G clP frVna r*n l l o r y g |wwt IWI Date 1991 The American University Washington, D.C. 20016
THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ©COPYRIGHT by STACY SURLA KOONS 1991 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. TRANSCRIBING THE OCEAN OF STORY: REWRITING C.H. TAWNEY’S TRANSLAHON OF THE KATHA SARIT SAGARA. A MEDIEVAL SANSKRIT TEXT BY SOMADEVA BHATTA BY Stacy Surla Koons ABSTRACT The thesis project began with an exploration of two fundamental issues in translation: can a literary work from one culture and language be transmitted into another; and if so, how? An 11th century Sanskrit composition, the Katha Sarit Sagara. was selected as the subject because the text originated in a culture and time very different from 20th century America, and because the work is available in an English translation which, although scholarly and faithful, is nonetheless nearly unknown to modern American readers. An analysis of the text, drawing heavily on Michel Foucault's theory of discursive formations, revealed "what" occurred there through statements (including concepts, strategies, and expressions of speech), articulations, and patterns of relationship present in the text. An attempt was made to rewrite or "transcribe" these statements, articulations, and patterns in such a way that "what" occurred in the text was recreated for a new, 20th century American audience. TABLE OF CONTENTS
ABSTRACT ...... ii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS...... iii Chapter 1. INTRODUCTION ...... 1 Katha Sarit Sagara ...... 3 Literary Theory ...... 5 D is c o u rs e...... 7 Transcription ...... 9 Issues in Translation ...... 12 2. A FORMAL DESCRIPTION OF THE KATHA SARIT SAGARA ...... 19 Structural F o rm...... 22 A p p a ra tu s ...... 28 Transcribing Tawney's Translation ...... 33 The Usefulness of a Transcription ...... 36 T h e m e s ...... 37 3. THE EMPEROR OF THE VIDYADHARAS ...... 44 Book 1: The Great S t o r y ...... 47 C o n te n ts ...... 47 Siva Tells the Story to P a rv a ti ...... 49 In the Mortal W orld ...... 52 Pushpadanta's S to ry ...... 53 The Brahman C ousins...... 54 Stupid Brahman...... 55 The Brahman Cousins (c o n tin u e d )...... 56 Pushpadanta's Story (continued) ...... 56 In the Mortal World (continued)...... 57 Pushpadanta's Story (continued) ...... 57 In the Mortal World (continued)...... 61 Gunadhya's S to ry...... 61 In the Mortal World - Gunadhya Publishes the Tale . . 62 Book 2: Grandfather Sahasranika and Father Udayana ...... 65 King Sahasranika ...... 65 Heavenly Existence ...... 66 King Sahasranika (continued)...... 67 Separation and U n io n ...... 72 King Sahasranika (continued)...... 86 King U dayana ...... 89 King Chandramahesena ...... 91 King Udayana (continued) ...... 93 The Story of R upinika ...... 99 King Udayana (continued) ...... 107 Devasmita ...... 108 The Childless K ing ...... 108 Devasmita (continued)...... 109 Saktimati and Her H u sb an d...... 114 Devasmita (continued)...... 114 King Udayana (continued) ...... 116 Book 3: Udayana Conquers L ands...... 118 The Ministers' P la n ...... 118 Book 4: Naravahanadatta is B o rn ...... 121 Life at Court ...... 121 Book 5: Saktivega, a King of V idyadharas ...... 123 Saktivega's S to ry ...... 123 Book 6: Princess M adanm anchuka...... 125 King Kalingadatta ...... 125 King V ikrasinha ...... 130 The Audacious L o v ers...... 132 King Vikrasinha (continued)...... 134 King Kalingadatta (continued)...... 134 The Story of M aya ...... 137 King Kalingadatta/Princess Kalingasena ...... 137 The Stupid Pishacha ...... 138 King Kalingadatta /Princess Kalingasena (continued)...... 140 K i r t is e n a ...... 142 Princess Kalingasena (continued)...... 157 The Impulsive and Passionate Princess .... 160 Princess Kalingasena (continued)...... 162 Books 7-18: Naravahanadatta Becomes Emperor . . 176 The Love Life of Naravahanadatta ...... 176 The Swan W if e ...... 177 The Love Life of Naravahanadatta (continued) . . . 178 Suryaprabha Gets Many Wives and Becomes a Vidyadhara Em peror ...... 179 Naravahanadatta's Adventures...... 181 The Charitable B o a r ...... 182 Naravahanadatta's Adventures (continued) .... 183 Naravahanadatta Loses Madanmanchuka...... 183 Mrigankadatta Loses and Regains A ll ...... 183 The Vetalapanchavimsati ...... 184 The Riddle of Husband and Brother . . 185 The Vetalapanchavimsati (continued) . . 186 Mrigankadatta Loses and Regains All (continued)...... 187 Naravahanadatta Loses Madanmanchuka (continued)...... 187 Naravahanadatta Becomes Emperor of the Vidyadharas ...... 188 Appendix A. METHODOLOGICAL TOOL ...... 189 Hypertext ...... 189 Description of Computer Hardware and Software . . 191 Indexing Tool — Background ...... 192 Indexing Tool — Design ...... 194 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Figure 1. Simplified Structure of the Katha Sarit S ag ara...... 30 2. Detailed Structure of Book 1 31 3. Landscape of the Emperor of the V idyadharas ...... 45 4. Book 1: The Great S to ry ...... 46 5. Book 2, Part 1: Grandfather Sahasranika ...... 64 6. Book 2, Part 2: Father U d ay an a ...... 88 7. Book 3: Udayana Conquers L a n d s...... 117 8. Book 4: Naravahanadatta is B o r n ...... 120 9. Book 5: Saktivega, a King of Vidyadharas ...... 122 10. Book 6: Princess M ad an m an ch u k a...... 124 11. Books 7-18: Naravahanadatta Becomes Emperor . . . 175 12. Master C a rd ...... 195 13. Normal View of an Incident C a r d ...... 197 14. Revealed View of an Incident C a rd ...... 199
iii CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION
Drawing on the disciplines of translation, literary theory, and Indological studies I have been working with the English translation of a medieval Sanskrit narrative, the Katha Sarit Sagara. in order to rewrite it into a form that will be in some important senses true to the original, and also interesting and enlightening to a college-educated, English speaking audience. This is not a translation from one language to another, but rewriting from a Victorian English idiom into a modern American one. I undertook this project in order to explore two questions. These are: can a work of literature from one culture and language be transmitted into another; and if so, how can it be done? I have come to believe that meaningful translation can take place. The works of literary theorists including Michel Foucault and Umberto Eco and of translators and Indological scholars including Wendy O'Flaherty, Raja Rao, and A.K. Ramanujan have helped me to understand some of the issues involved in translation and in working with Indian texts. The ideas of these scholars have also suggested approaches to carrying out my rewriting of the Katha Sarit Sagara. However, the actual attempt to rewrite a work from one setting into another has been as important in exploring the two original questions as has been the theoretical inquiry. Theoretical and practical aspects of this project
1 2
have worked together throughout, with my progress in one guiding my work in the other. I want to emphasize that the actual purpose of this project was not to defend the particular approach I developed for rewriting, nor even originally to rewrite the Katha Sarit Sagara itself. I simply began with the hypothesis that translation can take place, and then had the determination to explore how it could be done. I selected the Katha Sarit Sagara because it was appropriate to this project for a number of reasons, as will be discussed in the following chapter. The course of studies I undertook and the approach I developed to work with the text followed on my choice of the Katha Sarit Sagara. For the purposes of pursuing my objective I could have taken a text from an entirely different setting, and probably would have come up with a different approach, depending on what would have been appropriate to that text. Therefore I would like to say that while the product of my work includes both the rewriting I have accomplished on the Katha Sarit Sagara and the discussion presented here regarding this rewriting, I consider my actual work to be the pursuit of my original questions. In a way the tangible products of this pursuit are evidence of the degree of success I have had in carrying out this work. And of course in another way these results are the fruit that make the pursuit worthwhile. In this introductory chapter I will first briefly describe the Katha Sarit Sagara. Then I will present a discussion of some of the literary theory relevant to this current project. Finally, I will discuss some of the issues in 3
translation that have been raised by translators. In the following chapter, "A Formal Description of the Katha Sarit Sagara." I discuss the text in more detail. This chapter includes issues involved in working with Sanskrit texts. I have been able to recognize how important the narrative structure is to Sanskrit texts, and to this particular text. Therefore in that chapter I present a description of the structure of the Katha Sarit Sagara. I also describe the analytical approach I have taken, and also explain the themes I have focused on and why I have decided to focus on themes at all. I discuss the reasons I have to believe the English translation I am relying on is a good one, and I discuss the relationship of my rewriting to that English translation. Following that chapter I present the rewriting I have completed on the Katha Sarit Sagara. When finished this will comprise a work which I am calling The Emperor of the Vidyadharas. In Appendix 1 I have included the documentation on the methodological tool I used to study the structure of the Katha Sarit Sagara. This is a computerized indexing system I devised specifically for analyzing the frame story structure of Sanskrit texts.
Katha Sarit Sagara The Katha Sarit Sagara ("Ocean of Streams of Story") is a rich and colorful medieval Indian narrative. It was written in the kingdom of Kashmir in the 12th century A.D. by court poet Somadeva Bhatta. Translated from Sanskrit into English over a hundred years ago by C.H. Tawney, it 4
remains virtually unknown to readers in the West.1 The Katha Sarit Sagara is as fantastic and, I think, at least as interesting as the more well-known Arabian Nights. It is a novel of gods, kings, and magical beings, of demons and their daughters, merchants, hermits, and clandestine lovers; it's a story of action and destiny, statesmanship, worship, and living. Moreover, beyond its attractiveness as an exotic fantasy, the Katha Sarit Sagara is interesting and important because it uses a structural idiom common to ancient and medieval Indian literature but strange to Western literature. This is its recursive frame story construction. While many Western narratives also use framing (for instance, in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and Shelley's Frankenstein, among numerous others), the Indian frame story structure is quite different from the Western in both form and function. The Katha Sarit Sagara is not a single linear text; rather, it is a set of texts. The recursive frame story construction is a highly-developed literary form that allows a work to function as a set of independent parts, and that at the same time interconnects parts in ways that generate additional levels of meaning — that allow pieces of the story to stand for the whole, for example. The operation of this structure, and ways in which it differs from Western framing, will be discussed further in the following chapter. The Katha Sarit Sagara shares the recursive frame story literary form with other, better known Indian texts like the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. Yet even Indological scholars have paid little attention to the
^Somadeva, The Ocean of Storv. being C.H. Tawnev’s Translation of Somadeva’s Katha Sarit Sagara. trans. C.H. Tawney, 2d ed. (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1968). 5 multi-layered structure of this literature. Complete translations of these works do exist, but more often they are reduced to versions that extract some "core story" from amidst the supposedly superfluous "interpolations" that characterize heroic Indian literature. The recursive frame story structure in Sanskrit literature has been mistakenly interpreted as an aberration that works to the detriment of the narrative, while in fact I have found that this structure is important, even central to it. Therefore my rewriting of the Katha Sarit Sagara has been directed by this understanding.
Literary Theory My original hope in studying literary theory was that I would be able to figure out how to determine what something means. I then would have been able to apply this technique to the Katha Sarit Sagara. Unfortunately I discovered this approach would entail problems I could never resolve. When we look at "meaning" itself we find we consider it to be an essence, a truth that can be apprehended only through representation, through something other than what the meaning itself is.2 Direct access to meaning is denied by the very nature of language and human thinking. Things do mean, of course. But things mean by way of an essential separation, in our thinking and language, between representation and what is represented. By this separation meaning is created — not as a product, but as a sort of field of operation. Umberto Eco states that the value of symbols "is exactly their
^Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatologrv (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press Ltd., 1976). 6
vagueness, their openness, their fruitful ineffectiveness in expressing a 'final' meaning, so that with symbols and by symbols one indicates what is always beyond one's reach."3 But the meaning of symbols is therefore removed from us as something that can be handled directly. Meaning does not have a tangible, objective existence of its own. A search for meaning would be a search for an end, an attempt to fix truth somewhere. But there is no objective way to determine what the Katha Sarit Sagara. or any text, means. I could, of course, deal with the unstable surface of meaning by establishing fixed conditions and criteria for what will count as valid interpretations. Yet in doing this I would have already acknowledged the indeterminate nature of meaning. I would be setting up my local conditions, my temporary stable structure, as a way to try to reduce that indeterminacy. I would simply have moved my problem one step back, since I would still have to grapple with this additional problem: on what basis can I determine the criteria to be used to determine meaning? I would not be able to make a case for a set of criteria on the basis of any actual relationship between criteria and meaning, for the same reason that I cannot go straight to meaning in the first place. I am left with the conclusion that the set of criteria used, the shape of the structure made for the apprehension of meaning, must be determined by the meanings I want to apprehend. Another face of the same problem emerges: on what basis can I argue for the set of meanings I want to apprehend? Ultimately I can have no argument in support of my
^Umberto Eco, A Theory of Semiotics (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979), 4. 7 choices based on the truth — other than the conditional, local truth — of the meanings I would come up with.
Discourse I followed, as an alternative to the inward-looking quest for correct interpretations, an approach that focuses on discourse, the conditions under which meaning can occur, rather than on meaning itself. This approach draws heavily on work done by Michel Foucault. In his writings Foucault suggests an analysis of things that exist, a project distinct from a search for what things could mean. He proposed a theory of "discursive formations," which was not a speculation on what could have been, on what meanings we can now postulate, but was rather a description of what actually was, of statements (of various kinds) that occurred and connections that existed among them. Foucault explored how a "culture" — a broad grouping defined by an historical age and geographical location, sharing a common language, set of values, mode of perception, and other features — "experiences the propinquity of things, how it establishes the tabla of their relationships and the order by which they must be considered."4 He looked at the coherences by which knowledge is gained and organized in various fields of science and philosophy. His work shifts the focus from the deeds and discoveries that caused a particular field to develop (a view that defines its history as a
^Michel Foucault, The Order of Things (New York: Random House, 1973), xxiv. 8 progression from ignorance to knowledge) to one that seeks what it was that allowed a particular way of thinking even to take place, that enabled a discovery to have certain kinds of effects. On a broader scale, this work marks a way of looking at all kinds of formations, not just fields of study or historical eras or the ways by which things are known. It is this way of looking that I find useful for my own endeavor. Foucault deployed a number of important concepts, including those of the discursive formation, statement, and rules of formation. A discursive formation is a regularity that can be defined as existing among statements. Statements include not only expressions of speech represented verbally or in writing, but also objects, concepts, themes, strategies, and events. A discursive formation is a collection both of statements and of their inter functionings and inter-relationships. Rules of formation "are conditions of existence (but also of coexistence, maintenance, modification, and disappearance) in a given discursive division."5 These rules include how objects emerge, how they are distinguished and defined, and who can speak with authority in a discursive formation. Foucault was interested in systems, not in the statements that took place within them — at least, not in statements for the meanings or truths they might reveal. He was interested in the container that allows the content to take the shape it does. His approach was to look at the shape of the container by looking at the shape of the contents — by looking very
5 Michel Foucault, The Archeology of Knowledge (New York: Pantheon Books, 1973), 38. 9 specifically at what statements occurred.
Transcription In my efforts to discover an approach to the Katha Sarit Sagara that would help me uncover what is taking place in that text, and then to transmit that to new readers, I use terms and ideas developed by Foucault. But Foucault was not himself trying to do what I am using him for. He was interested in how texts were defined and in what constitutes a text in a given discursive formation. He used texts as ways to perceive particular formations. My interest in discursive formations is in how they define texts. My investigation is directed both toward the text and its discursive formation and toward the new audience and its discursive formation. The first part of this project entailed looking at what occurs in the text I am working with; that is, looking at statements, the articulations, the patterns of relationship among the statements, and at what things are thereby allowed by the text. The second part of the project involved bringing the text into a different discursive formation. In doing this I was specifically not trying to naturalize alien meanings; that activity would assume that one's formation is the real or natural one into which other things must be brought. My objective was to have a text exist in such a way that its statements and articulations would be recreated for the new audience, in a new discursive formation, and so that whatever these made available in the alien formation would be allowed for the new audience. I am calling this activity and its result a rewriting or "transcription." A 10
transcription is a mediating structure, a means by which a work from one discursive formation can penetrate another. It could be a translation, adaptation, abridgement, or any kind of re-creation of a work in a similar or different form. Its function, in whatever form it takes, is to make something specific happen, to make it possible for "what" occurs in a text or other object from setting A to occur in setting B. Again, Foucault himself did not identify any such mediating structure nor discuss how one could be devised. His concepts do allow mediating structures to be posited, however, and provide ways to attempt to develop them. Even more fundamentally, his ideas on discursive formations provide a way to comprehend the otherwise elusive, nearly invisible differences within which positivities (or "cultures," in the Foucaultian sense of the word) exist. I believe it is important to consider these differences to be as radical as Foucault suggests. Doing so greatly facilitates finding the common ground of human experience beneath the differences. In order for me to develop an idea of "what" occurred in the Katha Sarit Sagara I have looked for statements and rules of formation in and about and around this text. I studied other contemporaneous, prior, and even subsequent texts from related discursive formations, writings about this text and other related texts by medieval Indian philosophers, and other, non narrative Hindu works. I studied the works of modern Indological scholars, in particular V.S. Sukthankar, Ananda Coomaraswamy, Alf Hiltebeitel, and Wendy O'Flaherty. In studying Hindu writing, art, and philosophy of art, I learned something about the rules, connections, and functionings that generate and are 11
generated by statements caught up in these fields. For example, I discovered that religion is pre-eminent in Hindu art, philosophy, and grammar, and that the results of these disciplines, and the acts of creating and philosophizing themselves, are forms of worship. I also saw that the frame story construction was common to all the ancient and medieval Sanskrit narratives I came across. These and other findings will be discussed in more detail in the following chapter. After identifying statements I then made decisions regarding the organization and length of the present transcription. I also decided to select, out of all the possible themes that can be drawn from the Katha Sarit Sagara. a few to develop more fully than others. Sukthankar, Ramanujan, and others have said that the Mahabharata is perceived as being about everything in the world, that all stories are contained within it. The author of the Katha Sarit Sagara also asserts that everything important about life can be known through reading it, and that it is an intent of the book to bring spiritual and material prosperity to its readers through exposure to this knowledge. A transcription of the Katha Sarit Sagara should demonstrate an awareness of this important intent. While (in the interests of even beginning this work) I have not attempted to explore all possible themes, I have selected two which appear to me to have been directly relevant to the lives led by the original, royal audience. These concern how to be a proper king and how to be a proper woman. These themes will be discussed in the following chapter. 12
Issues in Translation One issue that frequently arises in writings by translators about their craft is the "impossibility" of doing translation. Translators seem to agree that their craft entails compromises that do violence to the original. It requires acts of new creation on the part of the translator that, as Eco discusses, can result in domination rather than interpretation of the text.6 Translators are painfully aware that important aspects of the original works are lost in translation. Depending on the language and form of the original, these lost elements frequently include meter, rhythm, rhyme, and style, and certainly nuance and the richness of context-specific words and phrases. Yet translators continue to translate. While translation is considered somehow impossible it is also considered necessary. The work that is created and the worlds that translations open up to new readers seem to be worth what is "done" to the original texts. Sidney Alexander, writing "On Translating from Renaissance Italian," refers both to the impossibility of translating and to the need for the translator to deal with this by being a creator. He states, 'To the degree that a work of literary art approaches the condition of poetry — that is, the inseparability of form and content — it cannot be translated."7 This situation thus calls for ". . . inventing a language that would achieve the magical feat of making past
^Umberto Eco, The Limits of Interpretation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990).
7Sidney Alexander, “On Translating from Renaissance Italian,” in The World of Translation (New York: PEN American Center, 1987), 15. 13 present and yet keeping it past."8 John L. Mish also admits his belief that the intention of translation cannot be reached, and that nonetheless translation is worth doing. "The translator must try to transpose the meaning and underlying thought of the original into another language and cultural background, which ideally cannot be done. However, by its very definition, an ideal cannot be reached. The achievement is in the striving, not in the perfect result."9 Translators have expressed various ideas about how one goes about performing translation. Clara Malraux says that to transmit something that originated with someone else requires a deep affinity which, in her opinion, does not come from a knowledge of the language to be translated.10 Knowledge of the language is not the key to a valid or meaningful translation. A connection to the work at a level other than that of language is first required. Barbara Reynolds emphasizes the importance of expressing one's aesthetic enjoyment of a work in the process of translation. "The translator should have an urge to convey as nearly as possible the enjoyment received from the original."11 She goes on to say, "The impulse to recreate, in one's
®Ibid., 18.
9 John L. Mish, “The World as Language,” in The World of TranslationfNew York: PEN American Center, 1987), 245.
lOClara Malraux, “Translation and Complicity,” in The World of Translation (New York: PEN American Center, 1987), 197.
^B arbara Reynolds, “The Pleasure Craft,” in The Translator’s Art 14 own language, something that has given delight in another, is a self-fulfilling one. It's an operation of love."12 In "On Translating from Sanskrit" Raja Rao provides insight into two aspects of the Sanskrit language that one must grasp in order to begin developing an affinity for Sanskrit writings. He begins by showing that Sanskrit words are remarkably rich with multiple nuances, that the densely evocative nature of the language is central to how it functions in poetry and prose, and that Sanskrit words and phrases generally have no adequate correlates in English. He goes on to state, however, that these difficulties do not prevent Sanskrit texts from being translated because the aim of the Sanskrit language is worship. "I say translation from Sanskrit to any other language is almost impossible, but this is not true. If all words are worship, and since true worship is universal, any language could lead one to this ultimate experience."13 Words, actions, and studies are all worship. The way that a person lives is (or can be) worship. Therefore it should be possible for a narrative like the Katha Sarit Sagara. which illustrates the correct way of living for a wide range of kinds of people, to be conveyed in a new language, even one unable to exercise the great virtuosity of Sanskrit. Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty has identified three considerations through her work in translating from Sanskrit.14 These aspects of translation bear
(Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1987) 129.
12Ibid., 130.
l^Rajo Rao, “On Translating from Sanskrit,” in The World of Translation (New York: PEN American Center, 1987), 287. 15
directly on the work I have undertaken here. According to O'Flaherty these are: 1) determining the language from which one is translating, 2) determining the language into which one is translating, and 3) creative talent. The first aspect includes determining the discursive formation or Foucaultian "culture" from which the work was made, and also seeing how that discursive formation is different from the translator's own. This first aspect really concerns the translator's preparedness to do the work. It involves the act of "believing" that the text one is working with is in a different language, that it actually comes from a different culture — of giving assent to the idea that an important difference exists between cultures and that this difference will not be transparent. Once the translator accepts this, the fact that the text might be difficult, even opaque, will not be incapacitating. It could be expected that a translator would have these impressions, since the text is making sense from a discursive formation different from his or her own. At the same time it is important to be able to recognize that the text is the work of a human mind. It is then a leap of faith to believe that another human being should therefore be capable of getting the thoughts, but this leap of faith is one that O'Flaherty considers necessary to be able to proceed with the reckless task of translation. The second aspect of translation concerns the audience for whom the translation is intended. It involves identifying the audience and then determining how much the translator expects them to know already, and
14\Vendy Doniger O’Flaherty, “On Translating Sanskrit Myths,” in The Translator’s Art (Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1987), 121-128. 16 how much work he or she expects them to do to read the translation. Finally, O'Flaherty points out that while Frost said "Poetry is what doesn't survive translation," still L&vi-Strauss said "Myth survives the worst translation." Sanskrit texts are full of myths and paradigms of living. If I can give Levi-Strauss credence in this case, Sanskrit texts thus offer me, a would- be transcriber, an advantage. Myths have an innate power to reach and touch us, to evoke deep human sympathies and reactions. Still, myths do not hover around as disembodied meanings; they lodge within things, they must be expressed through something, through social forms, for example, or through language. The language and the art used to bring myths to life are important. O'Flaherty expresses her conviction that myths can be recreated through art, and that art is necessary to this act of recreation. But while the first two of O'Flaherty's considerations can be applied in a more or less methodical fashion, talent cannot be ordered up like an ingredient. A translation or transcription of a creative work simply can't be done automatically, either by machine or by following a series of steps. New acts of creation are uncertain, risky, and absolutely necessary, which could be a terrible problem; yet at the same time they make the "impossible" possible at all. They are Barbara Reynold's "operation of love." Overall, translators appear to be stating that the objective of translation is to create a work that will stand up on its own. At the same time the work should proceed within the translators' tradition. This tradition includes a flexible but enduring responsibility to strive towards fidelity to the original text. It also includes a range of ideas about what constitutes fidelity in various 17 cases, and how to go about achieving a translation. During the course of my work I have had to grapple with the fundamental issues of whether translation can take place and then, if so, how one can proceed. Having decided, mainly through studying works of literary critics and the efforts of translators, that it can take place or that at least it's important to try, the question of how to proceed returned throughout the remainder of the process. The central object of my efforts has been to create a work that will stand on its own. I have intended the resulting narrative to be what I'm calling a transcription, a work that will make something that occurred in setting A take place in setting B. This approach seems to be particularly appropriate to the Katha Sarit Sagara: David Dean Shulman expressed his "conviction that the medieval South Indian universe was strikingly different from our own - not so much in external ways as in the concepts and perceptions which its people brought to their reality."15 My process has closely corresponded with the three aspects of translation identified by O'Flaherty. I have been continually engaged in clarifying the language and discursive formation of the original text, identifying those of the audience I now wish to reach, and refining the form the transcription has taken. And I have tried to bring whatever talents I have
l^David Dean Shulman, The King and the Clown in South Indian Myth and Poetry (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), xi. Though Shulman focused on South India he saw no great differences between north and south and thought his conclusions should apply to medieval North India as well. 18 to "inventing a language," to expressing my own delight in the Katha Sarit Sagara. to achieving the magical feat of rewriting. CH A PTER 2 A FORMAL DESCRIPTION OF THE KAIHA SARIT SAGARA
Many late nineteenth and early twentieth century Indological scholars found the texts they studied to be feeble, chaotic, trivial, rambling, and extremely prolix — in short, unintelligible and insufferable. They complained bitterly of the situation, but unfortunately these features were indigenous to the landscape of their work. Numerous ventings of frustration can be found. Julius Eggeling stated the following in the introduction to his translation of the Satapatha-brahmana:
In the whole range of literature few works are probably less calculated to excite the interest of any outside the very limited number of specialists, than the ancient theological writings of the Hindus, known by the name of Brahmanas. For wearisome prolixity of exposition, characterized by dogmatic assertion and a flimsy symbolism rather than by serious reasoning, these works are perhaps not equalled anywhere.16
V.S. Sukthankar quoted Hermann Oldenberg as writing that "the Mahabharata began its existence as a simple epic narrative. It became, in the course of centuries, the most monstrous chaos."17
iGjulius Eggeling, Satapatha-brahmana. n.p., 1882, quoted in Wendy O’Flaherty, Tales of Sex and Violence (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 4.
^Herm ann Oldenberg, n.p., n.d., quoted in V.S. Sukthankar, Qn
19 20
In my own reading of the Katha Sarit Sagara I was struck at first by the alienness, the apparent senselessness and inaccessibility of the form and the content of the book. If I had stopped at believing that the text was senseless or thought, as Eggeling and Oldenberg seem to have, that the culture that created these works was somehow deeply in error, then there would have been no chance for me to actually understand or appreciate the Katha Sarit Sagara. Fortunately I was able to take my impressions as an indication that the text had originated in a discursive formation very different from my own. I then proceeded under the assumption that I would be able to understand, that somehow the text could be accessible to me. These deliberate acts of choosing a way to think, these acts of suspending my tendency to dismiss what doesn't make a familiar kind of sense, correspond with O'Flaherty's first two steps in the translation process: those of recognizing that a text comes from one culture, and determining what that is; and recognizing that the text must be brought into a second culture, and determining what that is. The first of these steps in particular seems to have been missing in Oldenberg's and Eggeling's readings. The act of suspending the workings of how one normally makes sense of things (which is given by one's discursive formation) can admittedly be difficult, but doing so allows new structures of interpretation to be discovered. Accepting the idea that a text will fundamentally make sense can lead to insights and understandings that would otherwise not be available.
the Meaning of the Mahabharata (Bombay: The Asiatic Society of Bombay, 1957), 1. 21
Moreover, if one does not take on this assumption in confronting a text such as the Katha Sarit Sagara it will be very difficult for the text to make sense at all, since it is grounded in a discursive formation so different from our own. Once this fundamental "sensibility" has been accepted it becomes possible for a text to be appreciated — both for qualities recognized in our own culture (for example, balance, complexity, subtlety, characterization, and verisimilitude) and for qualities that may be unfamiliar to us and important to that of the original text. For instance, the eleventh century philosopher Abhanavagupta articulated a poetics that placed the value of any work of art in the degree of "rasa" experienced by the artist in the act of its creation, and similarly in the experience of rasa elicited in the appreciator of the work.18 Rasa is aesthetic enjoyment, or flavor, and is an experience of one's self in affinity with the source of creation. It is also an experience of worship. The idea of rasa is unfamiliar to us in the West, but being aware of it is important to appreciating Sanskrit texts. Suspending one's familiar mode of interpretation has been described by Umberto Eco and other semioticians as the ordinary way one expands the "semiotic universe" and extends the means for generating or apprehending meaning. It's not necessary to read in this manner, however, and in fact it's usually avoided. After all, we use our structures of interpretation to understand and know, to judge and to act. One does not rashly call one's way of knowing into question or put it at risk.
William Theo De Bary, ed., Sources of Indian Tradition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1958), 267-268. 22
This is one of the reasons why works such as the Mahabharata and the Katha Sarit Sagara are so daunting, and so magnificent. Access to such texts — beyond the point where they appear as chaos — requires that we hold what 0 we know, and how we know, rather lightly, and that we be willing for them to shift.
Structural Form The "monstrous chaos" of Sanskrit literature can be summarized as deriving from the frame story construction it so often uses. In simplest terms a frame story is a narrative in which one story interlocks with or envelops one or more other stories. This is often found in Western literature in the form of flashbacks or other summaries of past events. A more complex application of the frame story form is common in Sanskrit literature. Here, a narrator will begin telling a story, and in his story one of the characters begins to tell a story, and in this story a character begins to tell a story, and so on. The innermost story will be completed before the penultimate, and so forth until the original story reaches its conclusion. The stories take the reader back and forth through time, and often the same story is recounted from several different perspectives. The Sanskrit frame story structure has been viewed by scholars and abridgers as being primarily a device to package together a collection of stories. However, the narrative function of the recursive frame story structure appears to go well beyond this. A Sanskrit narrative with a recursive frame story structure can be imagined as a kind of hologram. A holographic photograph is made up of 23
innumerable "views" of the object it represents. Any part of the photograph can be cut away and will show a perspective of the whole object; conversely, the more "pieces," the more information one adds to the photograph, the more complete the image of the object will be. In a similar manner, the recursive frame story structure creates a kind of holographic narrative, in which parts of the story can stand for the whole, parts can be understood in combination with others to create denser meanings, and the story is even able reach beyond its limits on the page to inform performances of itself in other media. This functioning becomes clearer when one recognizes that this Sanskrit narrative structure is associated with several very important statements (in the Foucaultian sense of the word) within the discursive formation of the Indian subcontinent. It is associated with the fact that Sanskrit narratives can be about everything important in life. It is also associated with a Hindu cosmology that represents complexity and unity as versions of one another. It is also connected with the fact that the boundaries of stories were not, and are not, a definitive printed or spoken text. The functioning of texts includes the interplay between the oral and written, the secular and sacred, the domestic and public aspects of texts and the power of this continuing dialectic, a topic discussed by A.K. Ramanujan.*9 It includes performance of stories found in classical texts in a variety of ways and their
l^A.K. Ramanujan, “Two Realms of Kannada Folklore,” Another Harmonv: New Essavs on the Folklore of India, ed. Stuart H. Blackburn and A.K. Ramanujan (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 41- 75. 24 representation in paintings and the plastic arts. It also includes the phenomenon that stories do not belong to particular authors. Parts of the Katha Sarit Sagara can be found in previous and subsequent surviving narratives, and the author states at the beginning of the work that he is simply retelling a portion of an even greater story. The Mahabharata is famous for its indeterminate, or rather multiple authorship over a period of about 600 years — a phenomenon which Indological scholars, in their distress over the awkwardness of this situation, have attempted to redress by trying to identify "definitive" recensions. There is a close parallel between the recursive frame story structure and the concentric, hierarchical nature of the Hindu religion. The multiplicity within the Katha Sarit Sagara that results when proceeding "downward" from one frame to another and the simplification that occurs in the process of working through the events in particular stories and returning to higher frames mirrors the Hindu cosmology. A striking example of this parallel can be seen in the construction of the Hindu temple. These buildings are extremely complex on the outside, decorated with legions of gods, demons, and humans in single statues or in bas-relief scenes. As one moves through its concentric rooms towards the center, however, the statuary becomes more simple, representing higher levels of divinity; perhaps focusing on the three major gods, Siva, Brahma, and Visnu, or on the avatars of Visnu, or on Siva and Parvati. Finally, in a Saivite temple for example, the inner room typically contains nothing but a linga, a simple and almost featureless statue that represents at once the cosmic generative 25
(multiplicative) force and the essential unity of all things. O'Flaherty draws a parallel between the form of the temple, and the form of the narrative, stating that the structure of both "forces us to consider the possibility that the outer level is identical with one of the levels that we had considered to be inside."20 However, the "text" of the temple, like the structural "text" of the narrative, is not necessarily easy for Westerners to read. The quotes from Oldenberg and Eggeling, remarks Kipling made about the Mahabharata. and many other examples show that even individuals who are educated in the differences between cultures may continue to understand other cultures only through their own. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, a 20th century Indian writer raised both in England and in India, is an example of a person firmly grounded in two very different discursive formations who was therefore able to bridge the gap between them and make things visible that otherwise might have remained obscure. In writing for a Western audience about the Kandarya Mahedeo Temple, Coomaraswamy made it possible to see sense in apparent confusion. "In visiting the shrine, one proceeds inwards from multiplicity to unity, just as in contemplation; and on returning again to the outer world, one sees that one has been surrounded by all the innumerable forms that the Sole Seer and Agent within assumes in his playful activity."21
20Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty, Dreams. Illusion and Other Realities (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), 244.
21 Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, Traditional Art and Symbolism, ed. 26
Even while one can now recognize ideas like multiplicity and unity, complexity and simplicity in the construction of a temple or in the recursive frame story structure of a Sanskrit texts, a dialogue regarding the possibility that these statements —these occurrences, themes, concepts, objects — are actually coherent and perform important functions is quite new. A.K. Ramanujan, in a lecture to the Asia Society, remarked that while looking up an entry in the Encyclopedia Britannica he chanced upon the article on crystals.22 The first few lines intrigued him, and as he read further he found that the article could stand as a remarkable, uncanny description of the Mahabharata. The article begins: "Few things in nature are more perfect than a crystal, in which immense numbers of atoms or molecules are stacked in perfect alignment." The complex, yet balanced structure of the Mahabharata fits this description. The article continues: "Yet, surprisingly, many of the most important properties of a crystal are due to the few odd places where the crystal structure goes wrong. Many crystals could not have grown at all without having imperfections."23 According to Dr. Ramanujan, the dislocations or paradoxes within the Mahabharata and the areas of concern in the community regarding interpreting and generating the Mahabharata at any
Roger Lipsey, vol. I (Princeton: Princeton University Press, n.d.), n.p.
22A.K. Ramanujan, "A Saturday Symposium on The Mahabharata," lecture presented by The Asiatic Society, New York, New York, 31 October 1987.
23A[lan] H[oward] Cl[ottrell], "Crystals," Encyclopaedia Britannica. 1966ed., 866. 27 given time are what allow the epic to take its form. His lecture proposes the idea that the complex narrative structure and the phenomenon of the varied interpretation and expression of the Mahabharata within the community are actually integral to the text — and by extension, that this structure is integral to all the texts in which it appears. The "text" of Sanskrit text is dispersed through time and space, both in its written form and in the real world. In a very real sense texts exist as written words, spoken and sung words, danced and staged movements, color on paper, and molded metal and stone, and are used to instruct, entertain, admonish, and for worship. They have various voices that have authority in particular domains — the many narrators who appear in the texts, the religious men who recite stories on public occasions, the women who tell them in domestic settings. The structure of the written text reflects this, or allows this; it is intimately bound up in this multiplicity of form. Yet when a Westerner begins to read a work such as the Katha Sarit Sagara. the experience is not one of complexity resolving itself into unity. The action of framing stories within other stories does not seem to take the reader deeper into the heart of the meaning of the narrative, as flashbacks do in Western literature. Instead, stories seem to flow into one another, or take off from one another; indeed, the reader experiences the narrative spinning out of control rather than leading purposefully to a center or a resolution. Without an Ananda Coomaraswamy to interpret what is happening for us, even the clues that would have anchored the 12th century royal Kashmiri audience to the Katha Sarit Sagara just add to our confusion. For instance 28
references to the names and deeds of gods, and to well-known places and kings, just add to an already-large mass of unfamiliar and apparently irrelevant information. In order to transcribe the Katha Sarit Sagara successfully it has therefore been important to devise ways to guide the Western reader through the narrative. I have come up with a way to present the structure and the reader's "location" within that structure on a kind of map, as will be described below. An additional means for guiding the reader, which will be incorporated during the further development of the transcription, would be to create an additional outer frame for the story and place an omniscient narrator into that frame. This narrator would provide explanations that might otherwise have been placed in footnotes; interpret and draws linkage among things that are going on (with the acknowledgement that interpretations and linkages are speculative rather than definitive); and bring the reader to consider parts of the story in terms of themes such as those that will be discussed in the Themes section in the pages following. Both of these devices are suggested from a reading of the Katha Sarit Sagara itself. Starting with the idea that a very different discursive formation generated and manifests itself within the narrative, and then conducting a structural analysis of the Katha Sarit Sagara. both the map and the suggested additional narrative frame appear to be appropriate to this particular work.
Apparatus In order to study the structural features of the Katha Sarit Sagara I developed a computer tool for indexing and organizing structural and textual 29
information from this work. The tool and details on the initial work I performed on the Katha Sarit Sagara are given in Appendix 1. The main result of this work was the development of a way of mapping the structure of the Katha Sarit Sagara. a way to sketch in two dimensions the four dimensional, crystal-like form of the text. Here first is a brief sketch of the narrative and its structure. The Katha Sarit Sagara is divided into 18 books. Book 1 is the story of how the story came to be told. At the beginning Somadeva, the author (or compiler, as he styles himself), invokes blessings upon the reader. He names all eighteen books. Next he opens the story in a celestial setting, in which the god Siva tells the entire story of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas24 to his wife Parvati. The rest of that first book concerns itself with how the story came to be published in the human world — and so how it came to be written for us to read in the present time. The remaining 17 books are ostensibly the "real" story, the tale of Naravahanadatta, the Emperor of the Vidyadharas. His grandfather's story is told in the second book and the adventures of his father, Udayana, are given in book three. His own birth as a human prince occurs in book four and the rest of the books explain how he grew, what stories he was told, how he conquered the lands of the earth, obtained wives, then conquered the heavenly domains of the Vidyadhara kings and so became the first mortal to achieve the rank of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas. The last three books
^Vidyadharas are a race of heavenly beings who are above humans but below the gods. 30 describe how he performed some of his duties as Emperor. At the beginning of each book and frequently throughout the work Somadeva interjects himself as the storyteller. He provides blessings, recaps where the reader has arrived in the story, and then finally closes the narrative. At the simplest level, then, the structure of the entire work can be diagrammed as follows in Figure 1, with chronological story time running from left to right:
Somadeva
Book 1
Books 2-18
Figure 1. Simplified Structure of the Katha Sarit Sagara
Each block represents what I am calling a "frame." A frame in this sense can be thought of as a box drawn around a group of stories, themes, or aspects of the narrative. For instance, some of the events that take place are recounted several different times, by different speakers and from different 31 perspectives. The story of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas, which is told by many individuals throughout the narrative, is one example. The collection of "occurrences" of the story, the total number of times it is told, can be called a frame. As another example, Somadeva's reoccurring presence as the meta storyteller can also be (and is) considered a frame. Figure 1 presents a very gross level of detail. Book 1 alone can easily be broken up into 23 or more separate stories, each of which could be considered a frame. But to simplify things I will show Book 1 as being comprised of 5 main frames. These can be diagrammed as follows:
O Begin Somadeva writes story/Contents
Siva tells story to Parvati
Tale of the Emperor In the Mortal World of the Vidyadharas
Continue) Pushpadanta's story Gunadhya's story
lan Cousins
Stupid Brahman
Figure 2. Detailed Structure of Book 1 32
The Somadeva frame is the frame that envelopes the entire work, since Somadeva had compiled and is telling us the story. (In fact, in 1880 Tawney usurped Somadeva, and himself then constituted the outermost frame, though he may not have thought of it this way. The present retelling of the story — including these introductory chapters — supersedes Tawney's place as the outermost frame. But at this stage I shall leave these two additional levels out of the diagrams.) The next three frames, Siva/Parvati, Pushpadanta, and Gunadhya, are present only in Book 1. The fifth frame, the Story of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas, is the story of Books 2-18, so this frame overlaps Books 2-18. Within each frame there can be one or more individual stories. In the Siva/ Parvati frame, for example, there are 4 stories; in Pushpadanta's there are 12. However, by the end of Book 1, from the perspective of Book 1, the Emperor of the Vidyadharas frame has only one story. This story is comprised basically of the words "He told her (or him) the story of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas." This one story, this one basic phrase, is recounted over and over again in Book 1. It is told by Somadeva to the readers, by Siva to Parvati, by Pushpadanta to his wife, from his wife to a friend, by Pushpadanta to Kanabhuti, from Kanabhuti to Gunadhya, and by Gunadhya to the king. By the end of Book 18, however, there will be hundreds of stories within the Emperor of the Vidyadharas frame. In fact, long before this point, the Emperor of the Vidyadharas frame could quite reasonably be broken up into a dozen distinct frames. 33
An enormous amount of further explanation could be presented here on the structure. The temporal relationships among the frames and stories (e.g. which are contemporaneous, which precede or succeed which others in time) are only loosely represented in the map. The cosmological relationships (which of the frames and stories take place in heaven, on earth, in the underworld; which among gods, heros, and ordinary people) will not even be indicated on the maps. The flexibility of the structure in being able to convey such important ideas as the interpenetrability of aspects of being (gods, the various castes, animals) will not be explicitly described, only implied in the tales themselves. In fact nearly nothing of all that can be shown in an analysis of the text through its structure will be explicitly shown in the present transcription, simply because to do so would produce an encyclopedia. In the present transcription only the story itself will be told, in a much shorter form than the Tawney translation; the "location" of each book will be indicated on the map shown at the beginning of each book (or more frequently); and a detailed description, a close-up of each of the 18 books, will also be shown in the map for each book.
Transcribing Tawney's Translation I have been working with the Ocean of Story, the English translation of the Katha Sarit Sagara. not with the original Sanskrit text, since my lack of knowledge of the Sanskrit language has prevented me from having access to the original. The original Katha Sarit Sagara was composed entirely in verse, while the Ocean of Story is prose, so this entire aspect of the text is also 34 unavailable to me. I have therefore had to make certain assumptions about the translation, and I acknowledge that there are limitations in being dependent upon it. In support of my discussion I present a brief description of the translation and of the assumptions I have made about it, and explain why I feel that I can use the translation as I have been. C.H. Tawney wrote his translation during the 1880s. He worked on it under the auspices of the Asiatic Society of Bengal while living and teaching in India, and chapters of the Ocean of Story were published in soft-bound editions and issued to members of the Society as they were completed.25 He based most of his work on a Sanskrit and German edition in Roman type of the first five books of the Katha Sarit Sagara and two later editions comprised of the remaining books in Sanskrit only, compiled by H. Brockhaus.26 Having some questions about the accuracy of the Brockhaus editions, he also worked with a Sanskrit manuscript of the Katha Sarit Sagara from the Calcutta College and three from the India Office. Several translations of parts of the Katha Sarit Sagara have subsequently been made into English. The Indologist J.A.B. Van Buitenen published a translation of several parts of the text in 1959.27 This volume
25c.H. Tawney, trans., "Katha Sarit Sagara," Bibliotheca Indica (Bengal: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1980-84).
26h . Brockhaus, Volumes 1-5, Sanskrit and German, Roman type, Katha Sarit Sagara. Die Marchen-ammlung des Sri Somadeva Bhatta. aus Kaschmir (Leipzig, Paris: n.p., 1839). Idem, Volumes 6-8, Sanskrit, Roman type, Die Marchensammlung des Somadeva (Leipzig: n.p., 1862). Idem, Volumes 9-18, Sanskrit, Roman type, Die Marchensammlung des Somadeva (Leipzig: n.p., 1866). 35 included 'Twenty-five Tales of a Vetala," a collection of stories about a vampire and a king. Van Buitenen's translation in particular can be looked at to gain some perspective on Tawney's translation. Van Buitenen did not use Tawney's work but drew on the Brockhaus edition and also a later Sanskrit edition of the text.28 The Van Buitenen and Tawney translations, though different in some respects, are similar in ways that show Tawney's translation can basically be depended on for my project. While, for example, in Van Buitenen a particular brahmin and princess "married each other in the manner of Gandharvas, as their longing dictated, and there was such a feast of love as their passions commanded"29 and in Tawney the couple "eagerly went through the gandharva ceremony of marriage" and "lived happily in the palace,"30 still, in each translation the sequence of events is nearly identical, and the choices of words are also very similar. The two translators are clearly working from the same source and are grappling with ways to accurately represent Sanskrit metaphors and phrases in English prose. Neither meant to use the original as a springboard for his own creative work, as did Fitzgerald
27j.a.B. Van Buitenen, Tales of Ancient India (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959; reprinted New York: Bantam Books, 1961).
28padit Durgaprasad and Kasinath Pandurang Parab., eds., The Kathasaritsagra of
Somadevabhatta (Bombay: Niraya-Sagan Press, 1989).
29Van Buitenen, ibid, p. 27.
S^Tawney, ibid., p. 44. 36
for example in his poem "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam."31 Rather, each man appears to have been intent on translating the work in accordance with the translation standards of his time. Therefore this comparison, along with other evidence presented below, supports my assumption that Tawney's translation can reasonably be trusted as the source for a transcription. It is apparent, judging from remarks made in the introductions and appendixes by scholars in the editions of Ocean of Story, and from the very fact that such a group of scholars participated in these editions, that Tawney was considered by his peers to have done a commendable job of accurately translating the work. He did not abridge and he made extensive use of footnotes to explain difficult-to-translate phrases. He also used footnotes and lengthy articles at the end of chapters and in the appendices to position aspects of the work in the context of the study of "Marchen" or folklore as it was being pursued during his time. He drew on the work of other Sanskrit scholars and also knew that his work would be reviewed and perhaps used by them. Tawney worked within a scholarly framework and he seems to have exercised a great deal of integrity and care in conducting his translation.
The Usefulness of a Transcription Even if we can consider Tawney's translation to be accurate — that is, as faithful to the original and as appropriate to his audience as he could make it — a transcription is still important. Because Tawney's translation was
31 Edward Fitzgerald, Rubaiyat of Omar Khawam (London: Bernard Quaritsh, 1859). 37
made into a nineteenth century British English, and because it is long and scholarly, it is not a work that is likely to be read by the audience I wish to reach today. The language and grammar are formal, even stylized, and careful reading is required to follow the story. The work is filled with important references to Hindu (and to some extent Buddhist) philosophy, cosmology, and society, and most of these references are likely to be confusing to the ordinary reader. In my transcription I have taken the story as apprehended through Tawney's translation and, drawing as well on other resources (information in the footnotes and appendices in the translation, other articles about the Katha Sarit Sagara. my understanding through studies of Hindu art, mythology, and literature, studies of cross cultural communication, Victorian literature, and literary analyses), I have worked to rephrase the story into more modern, American English. Given the unabridged, apparently faithful, translation I have analyzed the work and developed an apparatus both for understanding its structure and for assisting the reader to follow it. In addition, I decided to focus on themes within the story and, through these, express the overall idea and spirit of the Katha Sarit Sagara.
Themes On a very broad level I have pursued the theme of the relationship between complexity and unity by replicating the stories-within-stories mode of narration. The inclusion of maps to the narrative has been done to make the task of following the tale easier for readers unused to this structure. I 38 have also varied the tone of the different stories, depending on the rank or nature of the storyteller. This is a departure from the style of the English translation, which was uniform in language no matter what a story was about or who was telling it. Finally, out of all the themes that could be identified, I have selected two main themes to explore through the transcription. These are, how one should be a king, and how one should be a woman. The Katha Sarit Sagara was composed in a court setting during a time of struggle, both within the royal family and between Kashmir and neighboring kingdoms. The book was intended for the queen and an audience of royal patrons. It is not surprising, then, that it can be read as a story of how men become kings, and also of how women fulfill their own reason for being. The longest story in the Katha Sarit Sagara. and what would normally be called the "core story," is the tale of how a mortal prince became emperor of all the Vidyadhara kingdoms of heaven. To accomplish this, he performs the same kinds of tasks and reacts in ways similar to those of the kings whose stories he is told. Through the examples of stories told by his ministers and through his own experiences, the prince learns such things as how to enjoy himself in moderation, care for his dependents, acquire wives, political ties, and lands, respond to attacks, and rule his empire. The qualities for kingship are exhibited through examples of the right and wrong use of such things as power and control, sexuality, and action. For instance, princes and kings are allowed and encouraged to indulge their sexuality when doing so also furthers the kingly tasks of solidifying 39 relationships with other sovereigns (which happens when accepting daughters as gifts) and demonstrating might (as when abducting women and then forcing relatives to accept the situation). But rulers are discouraged from indulging these same passions when the consequences are likely to be detrimental to the state as a whole. A king's ministers are of great importance in guiding the decisions and passions of the king. For example, the narrative largely ignores the jealousy that wives feel over new additions to the harem. However, when it appeared that jealousy was going to present a problem for the future of the kingdom, the ministers used all possible means to prevent the ruler from pursuing his sexual desires with a particular princess. Overall, successful kings can be relatively weak or indulgent (as perhaps they often were in real life), as long as they have strong ministers to guide them. The narrative encompasses the range of domains, crafts, and actions of kingship, and so kingship becomes a meta-figure for right male being. Shulman states that kings "were the bearers of the meaningfulness of life as understood by the people of their time."32 The common man saw "in his king a mirror of his own nature, his longing for wholeness and his own innate complexity and tension."33 Prince Naravahanadatta's life is a story of how to become a ruler and, by extension, of how to be a man. At the same time the Katha Sarit Sagara validates and reinforces a
32shulman, ibid., p. 11.
33lbid, p. 55. 40 certain traditional, unprivileged reality for women. Men collect wives on the way to becoming kings in the same way they collect lands and elephants. Examples of the passionate female nature and consequent untrustworthiness of women are numerous, and examples of women who are "virtuous" also serve to underscore the typical lack of this quality in most women. The definition of feminine virtue itself revolves around the interests of men. A woman who devotes herself exclusively to her husband in all her thoughts and deeds is a virtuous woman. The treatise on women given in the Manu Smrti (Lawbook of Manu, second to first centuries B.C.) is of interest.34 This book on social ideology indicates that women deserve respect and protection but not freedom (as though freedom were perhaps a burden), and locates their purview squarely in the home.
Women must be honored and adorned by their fathers, brothers, husbands, and brothers-in-law who desire great good fortune.. .
Her father protects her in childhood, her husband protects her in youth, her sons protect her in old age — a woman does not deserve independence. . .
The husband should engage his wife in the collection and expenditure of his wealth, in cleanliness, in dharma, in cooking food for the family, and in looking after the necessities of the household. . .
An example of proper womanhood — and of the way that men can guide women — is given in the third book of the Katha Sarit Sagara. It is
34De Bary, ibid., pp. 227-228. 41 described through the set of adventures during which Udayana, the future Emperor's father, wins his wife Vasavadatta, the future Emperor's mother. Vasavadatta is a princess who was decreed by heaven at birth to become the mother of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas. While still living with her father Chandramahesena, a very strong king, she is a passive force. Her role is realized through the acts of others, all men. First her father captures Udayana and brings him by force to the court under the pretense of wanting him to teach music to his daughter; actually Chandramahesena plans to get Udayana to fall in love with her. Her father simply makes use of Vasavadatta's beauty and charm to affect Udayana. Next Udayana's ministers (who, along with Udayana himself, are in favor of Chandramahesena's plan) work to shape the princess's feelings so that she falls in love with the captive Udayana. At the same time, they also want to teach her how to be a good wife. Udayana's Prime Minister accomplishes this by introducing the Master of Revels (an important minister in any king's cabinet) into the princess' chambers. The Master of Revels first gets in by means of the princess' childish curiosity, then stays and is able to perform his function by amusing her with stories — stories that shape her into the wife and queen she is to become. It is interesting that in pursuit of the ideals of female virtue the boundaries of proper behavior can be stretched quite far. There are stories in which making adulterous rendezvous with lovers, impersonating men, betraying one's father, and refusing to marry are acts which are condoned because, in the particular instances in which they appear, they are acts taken 42
in pursuit of a higher principle — devotion to a husband. In illustration of this the transcription includes a lengthy retelling of the story of Kirtisena, a woman who sets off into the world disguised as a man to find her husband. In the Katha Sarit Sagara the violation of the traditionally permitted array of female behaviors and actions actually serves to restore the traditional paradigm of right female being. Through examples of violation of what is permitted, the correctness of the norm is reinforced. The functionality and propriety of the norm is implicit in the narrative. And since the function of the violations is either to pursue the greater principal of right female being (which is always rewarded) or to spurn this principal (which is generally, though not always, punished), the correctness of this principal is again reinforced. However, the possibility of even performing such violations is grounded in the unspoken affirmation of the strength, intelligence, resourcefulness of women — in the ability of women to be other than what they are "supposed" to be. At the same time the traditional order, expressed through the stories, establishes that it is right for women to be less than what they are able to be; more accurately stated perhaps, it establishes that women exist in their relation to men, and that it is right for them to be something less than what men can be. I see this duality as constituting a fracture in the traditional order. Since Dr. Ramanujan recognizes that the dislocations and paradoxes in the Mahabharata are important to its ongoing development and interpretation, I feel that it is also possible, appropriate, even important to read the Katha Sarit 43
Sagara in terms of its dislocations. I feel that this particular schism, the duality of what women are and what they can be, provides very rich readings. It is through these readings that I re-wrote this narrative into a work that will, I hope, be of interest and relevance to modem American readers. CHAPTER 3 THE EMPEROR OF THE VIDYADHARAS
44 45
W. Pakistan
Takshasila
-__) Bengal \ • Magadha • 1 Pataliputra Ujjayini
INDIA
Ceylon
Figure 3. Landscape of the Emperor of the Vidvadharas 46
*T3
T3
£C
Figure 4. Book 1: The Great Story 47
Book 1: The Great Story From Siva, as he sits on high, garlanded with the loving looks of his lady Parvati, may you receive prosperity. From Ganesa, elephant-headed remover-of-obstacles, as he sweeps away stars with his trunk and sprays new constellations in the joy of his evening dance, may you receive protection. After worshipping Sarasvati, that lovely lamp of speech and learning who illuminates all objects, words, and their meanings, I have composed this work which contains the central substance of the Katha Sarit Sagara.
Contents This is the story of Naravahanadatta, the Emperor of the Vidyadharas, told in eighteen books. The first book, "The Great Story," tells how the tale of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas came to be known on the earth. The second book is "Grandfather's Story," the tale of the future emperor's grandsire, King Sahasranika. The third book is "Father's Story," the tale of King Udayana and how he conquered many kingdoms of the world. The fourth book, "Naravahanadatta," tells of the future emperor's nativity. The fifth book, "Saktinga, A Vidyadhara King," is told at Naravahanadatta's birth by a mortal who became a King of Vidyadhara realms. The sixth book, "Princess Madanmanchuka," is the adventure of the 48 birth and marriage of Naravahanadatta's chief wife. The seventh book, "Ratnaprabha, A Vidyadhara Princess," tells how Naravahanadatta began to acquire wives and form alliances with the kings of heaven and earth. The eighth book, "An Ancient Vidyadhara Emperor," tells of a mortal who once became Emperor of the southern Vidyadhara realms. The ninth book, "Princess Alankeravati," concerns additional marriages and alliances on the part of Naravahanadatta. In the tenth book, "The Panchatantra," Naravahanadatta and his ministers and a Vidyadhara wife exchange stories from the famous Panchatantra. The eleventh book, "An Exemplary King," is told to Naravahanadatta by an adventuresome merchant. The twelfth book, "Twenty-five Tales of a Vetala," contains the illustrious story of the vampire and the king. The thirteenth book, "Princess Madiravati," concerns yet more marriages and alliances for Naravahanadatta. In the fourteenth book, "The Loss of Madanmanchuka," Naravahanadatta begins the campaign to conquer the southern Vidyadhara kingdoms. In the fifteenth book, "The Seven Jewels of Chakravartin," Naravahanadatta conquers the northern Vidyadhara kingdoms and is crowned Emperor of the Vidyadharas. In the sixteenth book, "On Black Mountain: The Freeing of 49
Suratamanjari," the Emperor rights the wrongs done against an innocent princess. In the seventeenth book, "On Black Mountain: The Story of an Emperor," the tale of the good rule of an ancient Vidyadhara monarch is told. In the eighteenth book, "On Black Mountain: The Story of a King," the tale of a good and wise king is recounted. These books comprise the wonderful story of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas. This volume takes its form from the Katha Sarit Sagara. with language changed and tales arranged to convey the spirit of the original as well as possible.
Siva Tells the Story to Parvati Among all the mountains in the world there is one glorious above all others. Reaching into the heavens, it is the very home of the snows. Massive and majestic, dominating the northern skies, it takes the breath away from those who look upon its incomprehensible splendor. Magical, powerful, a god among mountains, Parvati35 deigned to become its daughter. This is Mount Himalaya, the home of the gods. Here it happened, once upon a time, that Siva and Parvati reclined together in pleasure and shared adoring words with one another. Delighted with her praises, Siva pulled his lady into his lap and asked her, affectionately, "What can I do that will please you?" "My lord," she replied, "if you are quite satisfied with me, then tell me
35ihe wife of Siva and the principal goddess. 50 a story, something wonderful and completely new." "But what can there be in the three worlds, my beloved, or in the past or future worlds, that you do not already know?" Quick to anger, the goddess replied, "What, won't you tell me a new and pleasing tale even though I ask you for it? Don't you think I know the extent of your power? Don't I know that the river Ganga itself has its source in your head?" Siva hastened to assure her that he would indeed tell her a wonderful tale, and so she let go of her wrath. Then she caused a great chamber to enclose them and ordered Nandin, the white bull of Siva, to sit in front of the doors to keep their intimacy secure. Siva began, 'The existence of the gods is supremely blessed and fulfilled; the lives of mortals are ever miserable and difficult; and the acts of the demigods are highly entertaining and delightful. Therefore I will tell you a story in which all of these beings figure. This is the history of the Vidyadharas." Now while Siva was beginning, a favorite attendant of his, the Gana36 Pushpadanta, arrived at the door and was barred from entering by Nandin. Curious to know why he was being kept out Pushpadanta made himself invisible by means of his magical powers and entered the chamber. And so he heard the seven extraordinary and wonderful adventures of the
36An attendant of Siva, generally an ascended human devotee, often (but not always) possessing a bizarre multi-colored animal and/or human form. 51
Vidyadharas. After hearing this tale Pushpadanta went to his wife and narrated it to her. And later his wife, filled with amazement by the story, was overheard by Parvati reciting it to others. On hearing this Parvati became enraged and went to her husband and said, "You didn't tell me any extraordinary story at all. Everyone knows this tale!" But Siva meditated on this and then perceived the truth, and said to her, "Pushpadanta overheard this story in our chamber by means of his magic." So Parvati summoned Pushpadanta before her, and she cursed the trembling Gana to become a mortal man. Another Gana by the name of Gunadhya presumed to speak up on behalf of his friend, and he, too, was cursed to become mortal. Overwhelmed, the two fell at the feet of the goddess and begged her to tell them when their curses would end. "Pushpadanta, one day in the Vindhya Forest you will come upon Kanabhuti, a demigod living under a curse as a Pishacha37. You will then awaken from the illusion of your mortal existence and recall this life of yours as a Gana. Tell him the tale of the Vidyadharas, and you shall be released from your curse. And when Gunadhya has heard the tale from Kanabhuti, Kanabhuti shall be released from his curse. And when you, Gunadhya, have published the story in the world, you shall be released from your curse."
37A type of demon - and also a tribe of perfectly human but low-caste and "savage" folks who really lived in the vicinity of the Vindhya forest. 52
And then the two Ganas disappeared from the home of the gods, as suddenly as lightning disappears from the sky.
In the Mortal World Pushpadanta, incarnated into the form of a man, was born and lived and wandered the earth. He became an accomplished philosopher, learning all disciplines, and served King Nanda as a minister. At the end, weary of his life, he visited a shrine of Durga38 and performed austerities there in her honor. Pleased, the goddess visited him in a dream and told him to go the the Vindhya Forest to find an ascetic named Kanabhuti. He roamed that waterless and savage forest, filled with tigers, apes, and other wild animals, and finally he came upon a clearing in which he found, to his amazement, a Pishacha sitting beneath an Indian rubber tree, noble in his posture, and surrounded by hundreds of other Pishachas. Pushpadanta came forward and the ascetic respectfully bowed and touched his feet. Pushpadanta then sat down beside him and said, "This is a strange congregation. Tell me, how did you come to this state of existence?" Kanabhuti replied, "I was once a Yaksha39 and I served the God of Wealth. But I had a Rakshasa for a friend, and my lord found out and cursed me to live in this form in the wilds. However, he also said that my curse
38a terrifying form of Parvati - and a very popular deity.
39a kind of monster related to another common creature in this story, the Rakshasa. However, Yakshas are noble and nice instead of evil, as Rakshasas are. 53
would end in the following manner. A certain Pushpadanta will come and tell me the story of the Vidyadaharas, and I in turn will tell it to a man named Gunadhya. Then I shall be freed." On hearing this Pushpadanta felt himself awakening as though from a mortal sleep. He exclaimed, "I am that very Pushpadanta! Now listen to these seven great tales in seven hundred thousand verses." Upon the completion of the tale Kanabhuti fell prostrate before the narrator. "You must be an incarnation of Siva himself. Who else could know this fantastic story? I feel the curse leaving my body through the favor of your words. Before you go, please enlighten me further and tell me your own history on earth, if the story can be revealed to one as lowly as I." And so Pushpadanta complied.
Pushpadanta's Story I was born in the city of Kausambi to a Brahman and his wife. My father died when I was very young but my mother supported me with difficulty by dint of extreme drudgery. One day two travelling Brahmans came through the town and stopped at our house to rest for the night. I came home after watching a drama performed in the town square, and to entertain my mother I acted out the whole play, including all the speeches. The two Brahmans were astonished at my memory but my mother said, 'This is nothing. The boy remembers by heart everything he has ever heard, even if only once." The two Brahmans exchanged glances, and then one of them asked my mother reverent permission to tell this tale. She gave her consent and he 54
began.
The Brahman Cousins There once lived two brothers (the Brahman said) who loved each other very much. Each had a wife and a son. I am the son of one of these, and this, my cousin, is the son of the other. It came to pass that my father died, and out of grief my uncle died as well. The hearts of our mothers broke with sorrow and they followed their husbands, and so we were left as orphans. Desiring to study with a teacher and gain knowledge, the best of wealths, we prayed at the temple of the lord Karttikeya.40 He appeared to us both in a dream and told us to travel to the dty Pataliputra belonging to King Nanda, and find a Brahman named Varsha, from whom we would gain all knowledge. Once at that city we asked after this teacher, and were told, "Oh yes, there is a slow-witted old fool of a Brahman here named Varsha." We went directly to his house with a great deal of agitation and found it to be a wretched hovel, looking like the very birthplace of misery. The Brahman's wife came out to meet us and though she was emaciated and wore only tattered rags, she showed us every hospitality. We humbly told her our story and she said, "I'm not ashamed to tell you our own. Listen."
40son of Siva and Parvati. 55
Stupid Brahman There was bom in this city an excellent Brahman named Upavarsha, wise, intelligent, and gifted in matters of money. He had an older brother who was just the opposite - this was my husband Varsha. Now Varsha was always content in his dim-wittedness until one rainy season, when he was finally made aware of his condition. During this season women in our dty have the custom of making a kind of loaf of bread out of flour and molasses, which they form into the shape of a large penis. They will give this loaf to any Brahman they think is stupid enough to accept it, because if they can manage this it is said to relieve the pains and fatigue caused by the changes in the weather. Generally the Brahmans refuse to accept these loaves because the shape is rather disgusting, but my husband took one from Upavarsha's wife, our sister-in-law, for which he got a bad scolding from me, you can believe that. At once realizing what an idiot he was, he began to feel inwardly consumed with shame and grief, and he went to a temple of Karttikeya to pray about it. The god was pleased with him and granted him knowledge of all the sciences but said these would be clear to him only when he found a Brahman who could remember by heart anything he has heard even only once. Until this Brahman can be found we remain in the same wretched condition we have always lived in. But if you two can go and find such a person and bring him here, them I am sure you will both receive everything that you desire in the way of learning and knowledge. 56
The Brahman Cousins (continued) On hearing this, my cousin and I left Pataliputra immediately and ever since have been wandering the earth in search of a person who could remember what he has heard only once. Until now we have found no-one, and at last, exhausted, have come to your home. And today we have discovered this person! So, give your son to us and let us go back with him to that teacher, Varsha, from whom we will all gain that most important commodity, knowledge.
Pushpadanta's Story (continued) My mother agreed to this with both excitement and sorrow. After a great village feast she and I parted with difficulty, and I left with those two cousins. In time we reached Pataliputra and the home of Varsha. The next day we gathered in a sacred spot, with we students seated on the earth before our teacher. He began to recite the mantra Om and immediately the Vedas, with the six supplementary sciences, rushed into his mind, and he began to teach us everything. At the sound of the heavenly mantra and the teachings, which filled the air as if with music, all the other Brahmans in the region rushed to the spot to hear what was going on. Then Varsha's brother Upavarsha came running, and all the other citizens of Pataliputra. And at last King Nanda, hearing of the boon of knowledge that was being granted to his kingdom by Karttikeya, was delighted and bestowed riches on the house of Varsha and his wife, and showered that teacher with all manifestations of respect.41 Thus, it was as though the goddesses Sarasvati and Lakshmi 57 visited us all: we gained the illuminating light of knowledge and our teacher attained material wealth at last.
In the Mortal World (continued) Having related this episode to Kanabhuti in the Vindhya Forest, Pushpadanta continued on with the story of his mortal life.
Pushpadanta's Story (continued) While living there with the two Brahman cousins and our teacher, I gradually gained excellence in all the sciences. At the same time I came to grow out of the condition of boyhood and into that of manhood. Once while we were all attending a festival of Indra, I saw among the celebrants a maiden who looked to me like a weapon of Kama, the god of love. Her eyes were blue lotuses in the full moon of her face, her full bosom swelled like fruits beneath her robe, her lips were tender coral, her teeth a string of pearls: in short, she was Kama's very storehouse of beauty and grace. My soul leaped out of my body, and only with difficulty could my companions pull me away from the festival. I couldn't sleep that night because of my burning desire to bite the sweet berries of her lips. At last sleep came and overtook me, and in that sleep a celestial woman clothed only in
4lTawney remarks in the Katha Sarit Sagara that King Nanda and Pushpadanta (actually known in this frame under the name of Vararuchi) were historical contemperaries. Vararuchi was a noted literary and linguistic philosopher. Also, the establishment of chief institutions of Sanskrit grammar are dated from Nanda's reign. 58 light appeared to me. 'The maiden you desire is Upakosha, the daughter of Upavarsha, and she was your wife in a former birth. She also desires no-one but you. I, Sarasvati, live continuously within your body. I would never be able to bear your grief, therefore do not be anxious about this matter." I awoke in agitation, though somewhat comforted. Unable to fall back to sleep I wandered slowly through the streets and finally stood under a young mango tree near the house of my beloved. My love's maid and confidante saw me there and came out into the street to to tell me that her mistress was also burning with love and desire for me. My pain was only doubled at hearing this, and I cried, "How can I live without my beloved? And how can I gain her honorably from her protecting relatives? If only your mistress' heart could be made known to her parents, perhaps they would look favorably upon the match. My good woman, let them know of this and perhaps you can save the lives of Upakosha and myself." The next day the maid took the chance to tell Upakosha's mother of her daughter's sudden and consuming passion, and of me, the student of her brother-in-law. The mother told this to her husband, and he spoke of it to Varsha, and soon all were agreed in their approval of the match. The Brahman cousins went to Kausambi to bring my mother for the marriage; and then with all proper ceremonies my beloved Upakosha was bestowed upon me. And so I lived very happily in Pataliputra with my mother and my wife. At a certain point during my career I found it necessary to go off on a 59 pilgrimage to Mount Himalaya, leaving my finances in the hands of a merchant and my wife in the care of her own virtuous nature. Now while I was gone, one day when spring had come Upakosha went to bathe in the Ganges, as she was in the habit of doing every day. Growing thin and slightly pale because of missing me, she looked like the streak of the new moon in the soft sky, beautiful and charming to the eyes of men. There in the Ganges she was seen by the prime minister, the king's chaplain, and the head magistrate, and each grew heavy in his loins through desire for her. On her way home Upakosha was accosted in turn by each of these scoundrels. Each time she was in danger of being taken by force, but with great presence of mind she convinced each man to come to her house at the first, second, and third watches of the night. In the morning she called for the merchant, but he, too, proved to be a villain and refused to honor the deposit unless she would show him her favor. She made an rendezvous with him as well for the last watch of the night. When the first suitor arrived Upakosha refused to see him until he had bathed, and in the dark bathing chamber the servants gave the minister a "bath" using lamp-black and fragrant oil. While this was going on, the second suitor arrived. My lady's maids in the bathing chamber told the minister that the chaplain had arrived, and that he must hide. They bundled the minister, naked and full of trepidation, into a trunk. The chaplain was then brought into the room and given a "bath." Meanwhile, the chief magistrate arrived. The maids went and terrified the chaplain with news of the magistrate's arrival and pushed him into the trunk with the minister. When the merchant arrived, the chief magistrate, who of course had also 60 been given a "bath/' was hurried into the trunk, and the lid was fastened shut. The lady then brought the merchant into the room with a lamp and asked for the money. The merchant confirmed that he would give her the money deposited with him. The lady, calling the attention of the men in the trunk, said "Hear, O ye gods, this speech." She then extinguished the light. The merchant submitted to the "bath;" then the servants expelled him unceremoniously from the house, smeared with lampblack and oil and with only a rag to cover himself, after which he could do nothing but shamefully made his way home in the last hour of night. In the morning Upakosha went to the king's palace and complained that the merchant was attempting to steal her husband's money, and that the household gods, whom she kept in a box, would attest to this. The king had the box and the merchant brought before him, and Upakosha told the "gods" to repeat what they had heard, else she would open the box in court. The three men cried out that the merchant did indeed admit the deposit in their presence, upon which the confounded merchant admitted his guilt. The king, unable to restrain his curiosity, asked that the box be opened anyway, to which Upakosha agreed, and the three blackened, naked men were released from the trunk. Upakosha told the whole story. The whole court burst into laughter and the king applauded the lady's virtuous conduct. The four men were banished from the land. And when I returned I showered my wife with the affection and praise she deserved. After this incident I had a very long career in the king's court. Due to certain distressing circumstances, however, I ultimately wearied of his duties 61 and went to Durga's shrine, where I was told to travel in this forest until I found you, Kanabhuti.
In the Mortal World (continued) After telling all of this Pushpadanta went off to leave his body, which he did through that meditation which arises from the fire. Thus he again reached his heavenly home, and Kanabhuti waited in the forest for Gunadhya's arrival. Gunadhya, the Gana who had been cursed along with Pushpadanta, wandered through life in human form and came at last to the Vindhya Forest where he found Kanabhuti. Suddenly remembering his origin he begged the Pishacha holy man to tell him the great story of the Vidyadharas. Kanabhuti said he would, but first he wanted to hear Gunadhya's own story. Gunadhya then told his history.
Gunadhya's Story I became a minister to king Satavahana after various adventures, the last of which being a competition between myself and another minister to teach the king the Sanskrit grammar in the shortest possible amount of time. I lost and had to honor my own vow concerning the condition of failure, which was to forego the use of Sanskrit and the other high grammars, and use only Pishacha and other lowly languages.42 62
In the Mortal World - Gunadhya Publishes the Tale After hearing Gunadhya's story, Kanabhuti told Gunadhya the story he had heard from Pushpadanta, the seven great stories of the Vidyadharas. Then Kanabhuti was freed from his curse and returned to his Yaksha state to serve the God of Wealth. Gunadhya worked diligently and put the story into 700,000 couplets of verse over the course of the next 7 years, writing with his own blood since he had no ink. When it was completed Gunadhya sent the work to king Satavahana so that it could be published, and thereby end his curse. But the king, led astray by the false pride of having learned Sanskrit and other sciences, sneered at the work in Pishacha language, and he sent it back. Gunadhya was utterly downcast, as anyone would be after having been scorned by a competent authority. In his humiliation he decided to destroy the work and so he made a fire. Reading the pages one by one he threw them in. The animals of the forest all came to listen, and were unable to leave the spot because the story was so fascinating. Satavahana discovered something was happening since this behavior of the animals affected the catch of the hunters. He went to see for himself. He found Gunadhya, his hair matted from the forest life and his body blackened by the smoke of the burning pages, surrounded by the weeping
42The Pishacha language is the language of goblins, or perhaps simply a dialect. 63 animals of the forest. He asked for an explanation and Gunadhya told the king, in the Pishacha language of demons, his own history as the Gana friend of Pushpadanta, and of all the adventures that led to the composition and burning of the story. At this point only one tale of the seven tales of the Vidyadharas, the story of Naravahanadatta, Emperor of the Vidyadharas, remained. But the king asked for it and received it, and Gunadhya was at last released from his curse. He returned to heaven to serve Siva once again. King Satavahana returned to his own city and composed this very book, known as "The Great Story," to show how the tale of the Vidyadharas had first come to be known in the world. 64
Figure 5. Book 2, Part 1: Grandfather Sahasranika 65
Book 2: Grandfather Sahasranika and Father Udavana This is the story of Naravahanadatta's grandfather, king Sahasranika. It tells of Sahasranika's separation and union with his beloved wife, who gives birth to Naravahanadatta's father Udayana during the period of separation. It is also the story of Udayana, who on becoming king, seeks and obtains marriage with the princess Vasavadatta.
King Sahasranika The kingdom of Vatsa was spread like a royal embroidery on the hills and fields of the land. The capital dty was Kausambi, a gleaming edifice of white palaces, houses, and temples. To the north of the city were the sacred blue waters of the Ganges, and to the south flowed the golden river Jamana. In this land the old king was called upon by Indra himself during a great battle between the Gods and Asuras.43 He ascended into the upper world with Indra's charioteer to participate in the war. The crown prince Sahasranika remained behind to administer the kingdom, which he did with the help of his father's prime minister and general. The king was slain in the great battle and brought back to earth by Indra's charioteer. The country underwent a period of great mourning, and the queen burnt herself with the body of her husband on the funeral pyre. Sahasranika, after the time of mourning, was crowned in Kausambi as the new king of Vatsa.
43Asuras are the enemies of the gods, and are god-like in their powers. They are usually forces for chaos, forces against the established order. 66
To celebrate the victory of the gods over the Asuras, Indra held a great feast. He sent Matali, his charioteer, to bring Sahasranika to heaven to join in the festival. In Nandana, that garden of the gods, Sahasranika experienced all manner of fantastic things. It was brilliant night in heaven, and the stars danced like multi-colored flames around the garden. Winged beings flew among the trees. Celestial music was created by unseen musicians. The scents from the flowering trees evoked deeply poignant memories; evenings of rest after victories, discourse among monarchs and heros. And other feelings made themselves known in the king's heart. He saw the heavenly beings and their consorts enjoying themselves in the bowers of the garden, exchanging sweet whispered words for caresses. He became aware of a great ache in his heart for a match of his own, for someone not yet known, yet now suddenly and terribly present in her absence. Indra, seeing what had happened in the heart of his guest, smiled and took the opportunity to say, "king, don't be despondent. You ache for what soon shall be yours. This has already been determined. Listen to the following story."
Heavenly Existence Long ago I went to Brahma's court to wait upon him, and one of my heavenly attendants came with me. While we were there a beautiful Apsaras, who had also come to see Brahma, was waiting in the court. A breeze came through the court and blew aside her robe. My attendant, when he saw her form so beautifully revealed and then hidden by her dress, was confounded by love, and the Apsaras was attracted to him, too. But Brahma 67 saw this and raised his eyebrow to me. I, knowing what he meant, immediately cursed those two lustful ones. "Be born, you shameless creatures, into the world of mortals and there become husband and wife."
King Sahasranika (continued) "That heavenly being has been bom as yourself, my friend, and the Apsaras has been born as the princess Mrigavati. She dwells with her father, the king of Ayodhya, and she shall be your wife." Hearing this, the spark in the heart of Sahasranika was fanned into a full blaze. He dwelt on his passion throughout the evening of festivities in a state of happy bewilderment. After the celebration Matali escorted him to the chariot to take him to his mortal home. As Sahasranika was climbing into the chariot a lovely Apsaras, finding him attractive, coyly said, "king, wait a moment before leaving - I would like to speak with you." But the king was insensible and didn't hear her words. And so that heavenly creature became angry and cursed him. "Your mind is so engrossed with the thought of your future wife that you can't even be civil to me! Therefore, you shall be separated from her for 14 years!" Sahasranika was so oblivious that he didn't even hear the curse. But Matali did, though he said nothing. As soon as Sahasranika arrived at his own palace he called his ministers to him, and after informing them of the news of his intended match he sent an ambassador to the Ayodhya kingdom to ask for that maiden Mrigavati in marriage. The king of Ayodhya was delighted with the proposal, 68 and he had his daughter demonstrate her skills in dancing, singing, and other accomplishments to the ambassador, who applauded her as a match. The marriage was arranged and carried out in Ayodhya with a minimum of delay. The two returned to Kausambi and were very happy together. The good qualities of the one complemented those of the other, and the union was as satisfying as that of learning and intelligence. As time went on in the kingdom of Vatsa, sons were born to the king's ministers. The prime minister had a son named Yogandharayana. The General had a son named Rumavat. And the master of revels had a son named Vasantaka. Then one day the queen grew pale and thereby showed the king that a child would soon be born to him as well. And then she asked her husband, who never tired of looking at her, to gratify a craving of hers by filling a tank full of blood for her to bathe in. The king devised a method for fulfilling this craving by filling a tank with the red juices of the lac plant, so that it seemed to be full of blood. As the queen was bathing in this pool a giant Garuda bird, thinking she was a piece of raw flesh, pounced on her and carried her off. When the king discovered his wife was gone he felt as though his heart itself, attached as it was to his beloved, had been carried off by that bird, and so he fell senseless to the ground. At this the heavenly charioteer Matali, who had discerned the matter by his powers, came down and roused the king. He told him of the Apsaras' curse and what its end would be, then left Sahasranika to the care of his ministers. But the king, tormented by grief, raved and struck out at all 69 objects and people and beat at his own breast until, exhausted, he collapsed, with only the hope of his future reunion to sustain him from death. Now when that Garuda bird discovered that Mrigavati was alive, it abandoned her on a mountainside in the east. And the queen, heavy with the weight of her unborn child and completely unprotected from the elements, wandered in grief and cried aloud. It so happened that a novice hermit, who was out collecting herbs and roots and fruits, heard her and followed the sound. He found her at a precipice, looking like the incarnation of sorrow. He gave her his own garment and, comforting her as well as he could, he led her to the hermitage. There the queen beheld Jamadagni, the sage and master of the hermitage. The sage was as bright as the morning, so that the hermitage around him looked like the rising sun was bathing it with light. Mrigavati fell at the hermit's feet and he, who was kind to all that came to him for help, raised his hands and said to her, "Here there shall be born to you a son who will uphold the family of his father, and you shall be reunited with your husband. Therefore, do not cry." So Mrigavati took up residence at that hermitage and was sustained by the hope of reunion. In the ensuing months she grew heavier, and though sorrow was her companion she was nourished by the goodness of the hermit Jamadagni. Finally she gave birth. And at that moment a voice was heard from heaven: "A king of great renown has been born, Udayana by name. His son shall be the monarch of all the Vidyadharas!" This voice restored to 70
Mrigavati the joy which she had long forgotten. Gradually the boy grew in that grove of asceticism, gaining size and strength, and was kept occupied with his own excellent qualities as playmates. Mrigavati, out of love for him, took off her bracelet marked with the name of Sahasranika and placed it on his own wrist. And the boy had the warrior sacraments performed for him, as appropriate to a member of the Kshatriya caste, by Jamadagni. That learned hermit also instructed him in the sciences and in archery. One afternoon Udayana was roaming about in pursuit of deer and he saw a snake captured in the hands of a wild mountain tribesman. The snake was beautiful and Udayana was struck with compassion as he saw it twisting in colorful coils about the man's arm. So he said, "Let this snake go, to please me. The mountaineer replied, "My lord, I can't. This snake will make my living. I'm a poor man and I travel from village to village showing trained snakes for the coins of passersby. But my snakes all died and I've been searching the woods. Now finally I found one and captured it with charms." But the gentle Udayana was yet drawn to the snake somehow, and so he gave that man the bracelet which his mother had given him, and persuaded him to set the snake free. Then that snake, rather than slithering away, rose up majestically and bowed before Udayana with a spread of his magnificent hood. The creature said, "I am the elder brother of Vasuki, sovereign of the Nagas. Receive from me these gifts and there appeared magically before him a lute and some 71 betal leaves. "And I bestow on you as well the magic art of weaving garlands that never die and of making forehead marks that never fade." The snake then took his leave, and the young prince returned, astonished, to the hermitage. The mountain man made his way to the market in a nearby village. He was then caught trying to sell the bracelet marked with the king's name. He was brought before the king. Sahasranika, fearing the worst, asked him how he had obtained the bracelet. That man told the story and, to the king's overpowering joy, his long despair came at last to its end. He loaded the man with gifts and sent him to be quartered in the palace grounds. Then he began to make immediate preparations for an expedition. In the morning, with the mountain man as a guide, he set out with his ministers and army towards that hermitage on the eastern mountains in order to recover his beloved wife and son. At the end of that first day the party camped in a forest at the edge of a lake. That evening his storyteller came to his pavilion and greeted his king. Sahasranika said, 'Tell me some tale that will gladden my heart, for I am longing for the joy of beholding the lotus-face of Mrigavati." The storyteller said, "king, why do you grieve without cause? The union with your queen and the termination of your curse are near at hand. Human beings experience many separations and unions. Let me tell you a story to illustrate this." 72
Separation and Union Once, not so long ago, there lived two Brahman brothers who travelled to the city of Pataliputra to study. Under the guidance of their teacher they learned the sciences and the grammars of Sanskrit and all the other languages of the land, common and high. On the completion of their studies their master gave them his own two daughters, like another set of sciences, incarnate in human form. One brother lived very happily with his wife. But the other looked at the well-established householders all around them and saw they were richer than he. In his jealousy he went before Sri, the Goddess of Fortune, and made offerings of burnt flesh to her that he might gain vast wealth. And Sri appeared before him, satisfied with the offerings, and she said, "You shall indeed acquire great wealth, and a son who shall rule the earth. But in the end you will suffer a robber's end, because you have made offerings with impure motives." In the course of time the man became very rich and a son was born to him. His father called him Sridatta, because he had been born by the favor of Sri. Soon after the other brother suffered the terrible blow of the death of his beloved wife by a snakebite. In his sorrow he left Pataliputra to ease his suffering through pilgrimages. Thus Sridatta was left without his good uncle's influence. But even so he grew up with fine qualities, because of his own innate good nature. And though he was a Brahman he practiced wrestling and boxing, and learned to use weapons, and became an excellent competitor. 73
The king of the land appreciated such qualities and discipline and he had Sridatta come to the court to become a companion to his son, Prince Vikramaksakti. The prince was a vain and temperamental young fellow. However, Sridatta found friends among the prince's companions, two Kshatriyas of intelligence and good naturedness. Later, two men who came to the city for a wrestling tournament and were beaten by Sridatta, swore their spontaneous friendship to him out of appreciation of his skills. And two other young Brahmans became his fast friends, and all spent their days in the company of one another. One day Sridatta was in attendance on the prince, and he and his friends went with the rest of the prince's retinue to the banks of the Ganges. Now in sport Prince Vikramaksakti's attendants made him king, and at the same time Sridatta's friends chose him to be king. This made the prince angry, and in the heat of his temper he challenged that Brahman to a fight. He was conquered, however, and in his shame and fury he decided to himself that Sridatta should be put to death. But Sridatta, seeing that his prince was angry, withdrew from the scene with his friends to avoid the consequences of his wrath. And as they were going back towards the city Sridatta saw a woman in the middle of the Ganges being dragged under the water. He dove right in to pull her out, leaving Bahusalin and his five other friends on the bank. He reached the woman's hair and grabbed, but she continued to sink and he dove deeper to maintain his hold on her. Then suddenly he was at the bottom of the watery world. The woman had disappeared and so had the water, and 74
before him stood a splendid Shaivite temple. Therefore, with characteristic composure, he worshipped Siva at the temple and spent the night in a beautiful garden attached to the side of its grounds. In the morning he woke and saw the beautiful woman with her retinue coming to worship at the temple. After her devotions she left and Sridatta followed her all the way to her own lovely palace. He continued to trail behind her retinue through the chambers and into the inner court. This court was enormous and sumptuous and had a thousand women in attendance. The beautiful lady took a seat on a sofa, having taking no notice of Sridatta the whole time. But then her haughty demeanor broke to pieces and she began to weep. Sridatta ran forward to her and cried, "What's the matter? Tell me who you are and who has done you wrong, so that I may then be able to right things." The woman replied, "We are the thousand granddaughters of the famous Daitya44 king Bali. I am eldest of us all. You of course know how Bali was overthrown by Vishnu and imprisoned in the underworld. And when Vishnu imprisoned Bali he also slew our father. Vishnu then drove us from our own city and placed a lion there to prevent us from entering. And so we must dwell in exile and in grief, until a mortal hero comes to slay the lion and free our city again." Sridatta cried, "Of course I will free your city for you, my lady. Lead me
44Another word for an Asura. 75 there!" So all one thousand maidens guided him across the land, and they came at last to a great dty surrounded by a mighty wall. A lion stood at the gate, as large as a standing man, with a mane of flashing gold around its head and jewel-red eyes in its sockets. The beast opened its cavernous mouth and let loose a deafening roar. But laughing at this display, Sridatta rushed at the beast. He drew upon all his wrestling skills and finally he slew the lion. Then wonderously, the body of the fallen beast split open and there arose a luminous being in the form of a man. "Heroic mortal," said the being, "I thank you for your deed! I was a Yaksha fated to serve as a lion at these gates until a mortal challenged and slew me in combat. And now you have freed me from this curse. In gratitude for your act, accept this gift." The being handed him the sword from his belt. 'Its name is Mriganka, the Moon, and with it you shall conquer the world and become king." Then the being disappeared. The Daitya maiden and her sisters joyfully entered their city. They took possession of their palace, and Sridatta followed along. In the palace garden the maiden presented Sridatta with another gift, a ring that would destroy the effects of poison. And Sridatta, gazing at her, felt himself falling in love. So the maiden, seeing this, said to him artfully, "Bathe now in this pool in the garden - but take your sword with you, in case of crocodiles. I will rest inside in the meantime." Sridatta plunged into the pool as she suggested. But when he broke through the surface of the water he found himself, to his astonishment, by the very bank of the Ganges from which he first dove in. 76
His friends were no longer to be seen. Sridatta set off in the direction of his own house to search for them, and on his way he met his friend Nishthraka, who was pale with anxiety and out of breath from hurrying. Nishthraka took him quickly aside off the road and said to him, "We have searched for days along the banks, and not finding even your body we were all preparing to cut off our heads in grief. But a voice from heaven called, forbidding us to do so, and saying also that we would see you again. So we all headed towards your father's house, but on our way we met a friend of your family who was looking frantically to intercept you. "The family friend told us: 'Do not enter the city, at all costs! The king is dead and Prince Vikramaksakti has been made king.' And he went on to say, The new king's first act was to descend on the house of Sridatta's father and demand where Sridatta was. The father replied he did not know, and in his rage, supposing he was concealing his son somewhere, the king had him put to death by impalement, as though we were a common thief! And then Sridatta's mother died immediately of a broken heart.' Ah my friend!" Nishthraka was overcome with sorrow, and Sridatta cried out to the heavens in his grief. Nishthraka continued, "Men of cruelty pile one evil deed on another. Now the king is searching for you to slay you. When we heard this terrible news Bahusalin and the others went to hide in Bahusalin's family home in Ujjayini, leaving me here to search for you. So come - let us go there to join them ." Sridatta allowed himself to be led by Nishthraka. He looked again and 77
again at his newly won sword, placing his hope in vengeance and determining to bide his time until vengeance could be gained. On the way, seeking to distract his friend's mind, Nishthraka asked Sridatta what had happened in all the days he was missing. Sridatta began relating his adventures in the underwater world. But they were interrupted by the sound of wailing, and they immediately thereafter came across a woman sitting in the road. "What is going on?" Sridatta asked her. "I am going to Ujjayini to join my relations, but I've lost my way!" "Well, come along with us - we shall show you the way and protect you too." The three proceeded together, and that night they stopped in the woods to rest. Deep in the night, however, Sridatta awoke with a sense of dread, and looking around without moving he saw to his horror that the woman had slain Nishthraka and was gorging on his flesh. Sridatta rose up and the woman rose too, and assumed her own form as a terrible Rakshasi. Sridatta raised his sword Mriganka and grabbed the monster's hair, but in the moment before being beheaded the woman assumed her heavenly body again.
She cried, "Do not slay me, oh Hero, for I am a Rakshasi as a result of a curse! Hear my story. I am an attendant of the God of Wealth. Once a hermit was performing severe austerities in order to overtake that God's position. My master sent me to intercede and I first tried to seduce that hermit with my beauty. When this failed I took on the form of a monster and tried to frighten 78
him, but he said contemptuously, 1 curse you to become a Rakshasi and slay men!' And he appointed that my curse should end when a mortal should take hold of my hair. Now at last my curse has come to an end. Therefore, release me, and ask me for a favor." Sridatta replied, "Grant that my friend may be restored to life!" She replied, "So be it," and disappeared. And Nishthraka rose up again, alive, without a scratch on his body. The next morning the friends set out again and at last reached Ujjayini. There they met Bahusalin and the other four friends, who gathered around excited and overjoyed to be reunited. Sridatta was provided with all the formalities of hospitality and welcome in the home of Bahusalin's parents, and there the six friends lived as comfortably as though they were in their own home. That spring the great festival of the new year was being celebrated in Ujjayini and various events were held publicly in a garden off the royal estate. Sridatta and his friends went to watch. There Sridatta saw a maiden, the king's daughter, who also had come to see the festival. She looked like the very incarnation of spring, and her image entered his heart. She looked on him with a passionate gaze that showed the beginnings of love in her own heart. When she disappeared behind a thicket of trees Sridatta felt suddenly so empty that he didn't know where he was. Bahusalin took all this in and said to his friend, 'It's clear where your heart has gone - so come, let's follow it through the garden." Just then a voice cried out, "The Princess! She has been bitten by a 79
snake!" The two ran to the scene and Bahusalin said to the distraught chamberlain, "My friend has a ring that cures the effects of poison. Quickly, let him use it!" The chamberlain dragged the two to the collapsed princess and Sridatta knelt by her side. He put his magic ring on her hand and she opened her eyes. Cries of rejoicing rose up all around. The king himself, rushing to the site, found a scene of celebration, and he ordered the chamberlain to reward Sridatta with gifts of gold and garments. Then he whisked the princess away. Sridatta for his part wandered back in a daze to Bahusalin's family home, accompanied by his concerned friends and heedless of the attendants who bore the king's gifts. Once at home he handed over the gifts to Bahusalin's father and continued to wander around distracted. His friends looked at one another in concern, not knowing what to do. That evening a young maiden from the royal household arrived to return Sridatta's ring. When he came out to receive it from her she said, "My friend Mrigankavati has made up her mind that she shall either be married to you or married to her grave. Brave sir, do save her life!" Sridatta immediately came back to life, and he and his friends put their heads together to plan what to do. They determined to carry off the princess secretly and go to Mathura to live. They devised a plan and told it to that maiden, who then returned to the palace. The next day Bahusalin went with three of the friends to Mathura, on the pretence of conducting business, and on the road they posted horses for the swift conveyance of the princess. Sridatta that evening brought a whore 80 and her daughter to the princess' palace and got them thoroughly drunk. The princess's confidante then set the palace on fire and she and Mrigankavati escaped unseen, while the whore and her daughter remained, unconscious, in the palace. Mrigankavati and her friend reached the Vindhya forest with Sridatta, who sent them on with his other two friends to Bahusalin. The next morning the dty began to mourn the death of the princess, now supposed burnt up with her friend in the palace. Sridatta took care to show himself in the city that day. And that evening, taking his sword Mriganka, he started out after his beloved. He continued through the night in his eagerness to see her. But to his dismay, as morning approached, he began to see unlucky omens in the forest. And a few hours after sunrise he came upon all his friends lying in the road wounded, along with the princess' confidante. Bahusalin lifted his head and said, "We were attacked by horsemen just this morning. They ran off with the princess and left us here. Please, follow them before they get too far. Leave us here, she is more important that we are." Sridatta agonized, but tore himself away and ran after the tracks of the horsemen. He then caught up with the troop and saw his princess thrown over the saddle of one warrior's horse. He shouted for the horseman to stop, then demanded the release of the princess, and when this was refused in his fury he dragged the warrior from his horse and slew him. Then he mounted that man's horse and charged against the others who attacked him in anger. He slew many and the rest fled from the furious hero. Thus reunited with Princess Mrigankavati Sridatta set off to find those friends of his. 81
But the horse had been so severely wounded in the fight that they were forced to dismount and lead it along. At last it collapsed altogether and died. Mrigankavati by this time was completely exhausted and desperately thirsty, so Sridatta left her there and looked everywhere for some water. As he searched the sun went down, and then he lost his way. He spent the whole night wandering in the wood, moaning aloud, searching for his love. In the morning he came again to the place where he'd left her, for there was the carcass of the horse, but his princess was gone. He put his sword down and climbed a tree to look out in all directions. At that moment a Savara tribal chief passed by and saw the sword on the ground and the man in the tree. Sridatta, absolutely wild with grief, came down and asked the chief for any news of his beloved. "Come on to my village with my men," the chief answered. "No doubt she has gone there. I will follow and bring your sword when I have finished my business." Full of hope, Sridatta went with the men. They brought him to the chief's house and urged him to rest, seeing he'd not had any sleep the night before. Sridatta went fast to sleep in the guest chamber. When he awoke he found that he was in a small cell with his feet chained to the wall. Realizing his situation, he felt a nearly physical blow. He had failed to find his beloved and was now imprisoned in a foreign land, unable to rescue her in her need and consigned to an unknown fate. He fell victim to weeping and desolation. Days passed. He was provided with fine clothing and food, but was kept in chains and alone. Then a maid of the chief's household came to him 82 in secret and said, "You know you have come here to your death. When the chief returns he will offer you as a human sacrifice to the Goddess. This is why you are being kept clothed and fed." Sridatta was not surprised to hear this news. "But I know one way out," the maiden continued. "The chief's daughter Sundari has seen you here, having come to look secretly at her father's prisoner, and she has fallen in love with you so deeply that she has collapsed into love sickness. Marry this friend of mine, and you shall be saved." Sridatta agreed, and Sundari came to him, and they were united that evening by the gandharva form of marriage. Every night thereafter she came to him. Soon it became apparent that she was pregnant. Her mother found out and, deciding in favor of her son-in-law, she went to him and said, "I will set you free. Go and escape the wrath of my husband. But you must not forget Sundari." So once again Sridatta entered that forest in which he had wandered in search of Mrigankavati. He came again to that spot where he had lost her. And then a hunter approached. Sridatta called and asked him for news of his princess. The hunter said, "I have news for you, friend! I saw that wife of yours wandering around, lamenting, and after hearing her story I took her out of this wood for fear that she would encounter a savage tribesman here. I brought her to the house of an old Brahman, and I've returned to look for you." 83
Sridatta left eagerly with directions and in two days reached the house of the Brahman. "I am Sridatta, give me my wife!" he cried. But the Brahman said, "This village is in an out of the way place and could not provide your princess the proper protection. So I sent her to Mathura to the home of my Brahman friend there who is a minister to the king Surasena. Rest tonight, my friend, and go there tomorrow." Sridatta rested in his weariness, and early in the morning he set out for Mathura. In two days he came to the outskirts of the city and being extremely tired and dusty he paused to bathe in a cool, clear lake. In the midst of the reeds he discovered a beautiful garment concealed there. Not knowing what else to do he simply took the garment with him, and headed on into the city. Once in the city he was stopped by the police, who spotted the garment of a recently missing merchant on his arm. Searching the garment they found a magnificent necklace knotted up in one corner, and arrested Sridatta as a thief and brought him before the magistrate, who handed him up to the king, who sentenced him to death. He was led off to his place of execution, with the drums beating somberly around him. Mrigankavati was on the roof terrace of the minister's house and her eyes were drawn to the distraction in the streets below. To her horror she saw her husband being led in chains. In this state she rushed to the minister in his chambers below. "My husband is being led to his execution!" The minister, startled, rose up and sent his deputy immediately into the streets to order the executioners to stop and return the prisoner to the jail. In the meantime he went to the king and asked him for a pardon, 84 which was granted. Sridatta was then brought to the minister's house. When he entered the home and saw the minister he immediately fell to that man's feet, exclaiming "Unde! Is this you, who left so long ago to travel in foreign lands? How do I now by great luck find you established as a m inister?" The uncle recognized his nephew in astonishment, and threw his arms around him, and questioned him on his adventures. Sridatta related them all, beginning with the execution of his father. After mourning the death of his brother, the Uncle said to his nephew in private, "Do not be sad on the loss of your father's wealth. For I once brought a Yaksha into subjection by my magical powers, and she gave me a vast fortune - 5,000 horses and 70 million pieces of gold. I have no son, only yourself. All this wealth is at your disposal." He then brought Mrigankavati before him and now being a wealthy man, Sridatta married her on the spot. So he dwelt with his bride and his uncle, happy in his union, though troubled by anxiety of Bahusalin and his other companions. One day his uncle said to Sridatta in secret, "king Surasena has a daughter. I have been ordered to take her to the land of Avanti to give her away in marriage. But instead I am going to have her married to to you. And then, when you have the full force of her guard, and that of mine, you can take possession of that kingdom that has been promised to you by the goddess Sri." So he took the princess and set off with his new army. But as soon as 85 they reached the Vindhya forest they were beset by a band of brigands, who captured their forces by surprise and subdued them. They bound Sridatta, seized his wealth, and dragged him off to the nearby village. There they took him to the temple of the Goddess Durga in order to sacrifice him. They banged the gongs and proceeded to carry him in. But it happened by fortune that Sundari herself had come to worship at the temple, bringing her young son with her, and she saw her husband being dragged up the steps. She commanded the brigands to stop and to leave the village, leaving Sridatta's army and wealth behind. Then she brought Sridatta with her to the chief's palace and she told him that her father had since died and had bequeathed the village to her. She handed over the sovereignty of the village to him, and also presented him with his sword Mriganka. And so in one stroke he was reunited with his wife Sundari, his sword, his uncle, his followers, and king Surasena's daughter, whom he married there in the village with great ceremony. Then, being a great king there in Sundari's land, he sent ambassadors to his two living fathers in law, both the father of Mrigankavati and to king Surasena. They gladly recognized him and came to him, accompanied by their armies. And his friends Bahusalin and the others, hearing of Sridatta in this manner, came to him with their wounds healed and in great health. Thus reunited with his friends, and fortified by the armies of his fathers-in-law, Sridatta marched to the land of that cruel ruler Vikramaksakti who had put his father to death. And he overpowered and slew that sovereign,making 86
him a burnt offering in the flame of his wrath. Then Sridatta, having gained domain over all these lands, joined again with his beloved Mrigankavati, and was delivered from the sorrow of all separations.
King Sahasranika (continued) "And thus, my king, do men of resolution cross the difficult seas of separation and achieve prosperity." After hearing this tale Sahasranika managed to get through the night, though he still ached with longing for his beloved. In the morning he continued his journey and in a few days the king and his retinue reached the peaceful hermitage of Jamadagni. The mere sight of the holy hermit brought the king peace. Jamadagni handed over Mrigavati and Udayana. The king could hardly release his son from his embrace. And so they rejoiced in regaining one another after so long a separation. They bid farewell to the hermit and traveled back to Kausambi. Triumphal arches led them into the royal dty, and the streets were decorated with banners. All citizens were crowded along the main thoroughfare to drink in the sight of their rulers, and watched from every window, doorway, and spot of ground. Once back at the palace the king appointed his son as heir. As advisors he assigned the sons of his own ministers, Vasantaka as Master of Revels, Rumavat as General, and Yaugandharvayana as Prime Minister. At this act a rain of flowers fell from heaven and a celestial voice was heard: "With these ministers the prince shall obtain dominion over the whole world." 87
The king soon after passed on the responsibilities of the empire to his son, and spent his time in the long-awaited society of Mrigavati. And finally, after his old age had reached him and the desire for mere earthly enjoyment had dwindled away, the king established his son on the throne to ensure the kingdom's prosperity, and Sahasranika and his beloved wife, accompanied by his old ministers, ascended the Himalayas to prepare for the last great journey. 88
bp
Q U
u2
s | (A U
Figure 6. Book 2, Part 2: Father Udayana 89
King Udavana Udayana became king. But he delegated the duties of his kingdom more and more to his ministers, and gave himself up to the pleasures that kings enjoy. He hunted continuously. He amused himself by subduing maddened elephants with the sweet sound of the lute, which the snake had given him, and taming them, brought them home. In his wine cups could be seen the reflections of many fair-faced women, and, as he drank deeply and often of this wine, the color began to drain from the faces of his ministers. There was a king in Ujjayini, King Chandramahesena, who considering the security of his kingdom thought often about Udayana. The kingdom of Vatsa had always been hostile to Ujjayini, and the king considered how, now that the ruler had come to the throne, he might gain power there. He decided to marry him to his daughter Vasavadatta, thereby making him his son in law and submissive ally. "I know that he is a disciple of music; if I can somehow bring him here and make my daughter a pupil of his, he will undoubtedly fall in love with her, and then I shall achieve my ends. But how to accomplish this? That Udayana wanders around alone in the forest, capturing elephants, for he is a king addicted to the vice of hunting. I will using this failing to trap him and bring him here." He then consulted his minister to determine the way to achieve his end. The minister replied, 'The king is proud, free of avarice, his subjects are attached to him, and he has great power. Therefore he cannot be reached by any of the four usual expedients, those being negotiation, bribery, treachery, 90
and force. However, let us try the first expedient, negotiation." The king sent a delegation to Vatsa with the message, "My daughter desires to be your pupil in music; if you are friendly towards us, come here and teach her." This message was delivered word for word to Udayana, and the king, disturbed, consulted with his minister Yaugandharvayana. "Why did he send me that rude message? What does he consider me to be? And what can be the villain's objective in making such a proposal?" Yaugandharvayana took this opportunity to reply sternly to his lord for his own good. "Your reputation for vice has shot up in the earth like a creeper and this, my king, is its bitter fruit. That king, thinking you are a slave to your passions, intends to ensnare you by means of his beautiful daughter, and then make you his instrument. Therefore I counsel you to abandon your vices, for kings that fall into them are easily taken by their enemies, even as are elephants who fall into pits." So Udayana responded to Chandamahesena with the following message: "If your daughter desires to become my pupil, send her here." Then he remarked to his ministers, "I will march on Ujjayini and bring that king back in chains." But Yaugandharvayana said, "That is neither fitting nor within your power, my king. Chandramahesena is a mighty monarch, not to be subdued by you. Let me tell you his history so that you can know his might." 91
King Chandramahesena My king, Ujjayini is a city so splendid, with its palaces of enameled white, that it laughs scornfully at Amaravati, the city of the gods. Prince Mahensena was born in this city and he grew to ascend the throne. And that king, while cherishing his realm, considered to himself, "I don't have a sword worthy of me nor a wife." Therefore he went to the temple of Durga and worshiped her for a long time, cutting off pieces of his own flesh and offering them in the flames. At last the Goddess appeared to him and said, "I am pleased. Receive this sword from me, which by its magical powers will render you invincible. Moreover, you shall soon obtain Angaravati as a wife, who is the daughter of the Asura Angaraka, and she is the most beautiful maiden in the three worlds. Finally, as you have performed a very austere and cruel penance for me, your name shall henceforth be Chandramahesena." The king went hunting soon after, and in the forest he found a wild and furious boar, horrible to see, as though it were made of the darkness of night condensed into a solid mass. The boar was not wounded by the king's sharp arrows. It charged the chariot and broke it into bits, then fled into a cavern. The king abandoned his car and entered the cavern in vengeful pursuit, with only his bow. But suddenly the cavern opened up into unimaginable space, and the king saw before him a great and splendid capital. He entered the city and sat down on the bank of a lake. While there he beheld a maiden walking around the edge of the lake, surrounded by a hundred women. 92
She slowly approached, throwing looks that bathed him like showers of nectar and passion. Coming near she said, "Who are you? Why have you entered our home?" The king told her, and to his surprise she lost self restraint and began to weep with heart-breaking sobs. The king begged, "Who are you? And why do you weep?" "The boar that led you is the Daitya Angaraka. And I am his daughter. His body is as hard as diamond, and invincible. He has carried off these hundred princesses from the palaces of kings to attend me. He has lured you here, and now he is resting, but when he awakes he shall surely do you harm. And since I can see no hope for you, I cannot control my grief." The king then said, "If you love me, do the following. When your father awakes go and weep in front of him. I will be concealed nearby. When he asks you the reason for your tears answer, If someone were to slay you, what would become of me?' If you do this then there will be a happy result for us both." The princess agreed and went to her father's chamber. When he awoke he found her crying at his bedside, and he asked in surprise what was wrong. "If someone were to slay you, what would become of me?" she cried. The Asura burst out laughing. "Who could possibly slay me, my daughter? I am entirely as hard as diamond. The only unguarded place on my body is in my left hand, but that is protected by the bow." So the Daitya consoled his daughter, and all this was heard by the concealed king. 93
Then the Daitya rose up to bathe, and afterwards proceeded to worship in devout silence the god Siva. At that moment the king appeared with his bow and rushed the Asura, challenging him to a fight. The boar, without interrupting his devout silence, held up his left hand to the king to signal that he must wait for a moment. The king then, being very quick, struck him with an arrow in that hand. And the great Asura Angaraka uttered a terrible cry and fell to the ground and died. The king, taking Angaravati as a prize, returned to Ujjayini. There the king married the Asura maiden and two twin sons were born to them. The first is Gopalaka and the second Palaka. When these sons were born they held a feast for Indra on their account. Then Indra, pleased, appeared to him in a dream and said, "You shall obtain a matchless daughter who shall give birth to the incarnation of the God of Love. He shall be the Emperor of the Vidyadharas."
King Udayana (continued) 'That maiden, Vasavadatta, was born and remains in the palace of her father. The king cannot be conquered by you, my lord, first because he is mighty, and secondly because his realm is situated in a strategic and difficult country. Anyway, he is longing to give his daughter to you, but being proud he wants to triumph over you. But I think you will certainly marry that Vasavadatta." When Udayana heard this story he found that he had lost his heart to Vasavadatta. In the meantime the ambassador returned to King 94
Chandramahesena and gave him Udayana's reply. The king reflected, "It is clear that the proud king of Vatsa will not come here. And I cannot send my daughter to his court, that would be unbecoming. So I must capture him by stratagem and bring him here as my prisoner." So he had a large artificial elephant made and, filling it with warriors, he placed it in the Vindhya forest. Soon the scouts of the king spied this tremendous wild elephant from a distance. Fearing to go any closer, they returned to the king and gave their report. "We have seen a single elephant roaming in the forest, with no equal in the world. It fills the sky, like a moving peak of the Vindhya range." The king spent the night reflecting, "If I obtain a mighty elephant, a fit match for my magnificent elephant Nadagri, then that Chandramahesena will be in my power." So the king mounted a hunting expedition the next day. The troops stopped at a distance and the king went forward alone, with only his lute to subdue the beast. He slowly approached it, thinking of how he should bind it, singing in melodious tones and playing the lute. As his mind was fixed on his music and the shades of evening were setting in, he did not see that the elephant was constructed. That elephant, for its part, kept flapping its ears and lifting its trunk, as though appreciating the music, and slowly advanced and retired, thus luring the king deeper into the woods. And then suddenly the elephant burst open and a body of soldiers in full armour rushed out and surrounded the king of Vatsa. The king drew his hunting knife in rage, but while fighting 95 those in front of him, others seized him from behind. And those warriors, and others who approached on a signal, carried the king to the camp and into the main tent to the presence of Chandramahesena. The ruler greeted Udayana with great respect, and together they entered the dty of Ujjayini. The citizens came out to behold the king of Vatsa, as pleasing as the moon, though spotted with humiliation. In the palace Chandramahesena presented his daughter and said, "King, teach this lady music, as I have requested." And when he saw the maiden the mind of Udayana was so suddenly filled with love that he forgot his anger. And Vasavadatta's eye and heart and mind turned towards Udayana together. In modesty she averted her eye, but her heart and mind remained fixed on him. So Udayana came to dwell in the concert room of Chandramahesena's palace. Chained to the wall, he taught Vasavadatta to sing, with the lute he held on his lap. She would only rarely leave him, though he was a captive. In the meantime the hunting troop returned to Kausambi and the country was thrown into a great state of agitation. The citizens angrily prepared to make an assault on Chandramahesena's kingdom. But the General Rumavat checked their fury by telling them that Chandramahesena was not to be overcome by force. Besides, an assault could endanger the King of Vatsa. Instead, their object must be obtained by policy. The Prime Minister Yaugandharvayana, seeing that the country was loyal to the king, told Rumavat and the others, "Remain here, I leave the kingdom in your protection. Guard the country, and display your prowess when the occasion demands it. I shall go with Vasantaka only, and without fail by my wisdom I 96 will accomplish the delivery of the king. I know spells for breaking through walls, and opening chains, and for becoming invisible, and I will use these as necessary." Yaugandharvayana first travelled to the village of a mountain chief, King Pulindaka, who ruled over the Pulinda tribe on a peak in the Vindhya range. This king was an ally of Udayana's and Yaugandharvayana told him to have a force armed and ready to protect Udayana when they all escaped and came back that way. Then Yaugandharvayana and Vasantaka continued on. At last they came to the burning fields outside of Ujjayini. The place smelled of carrion and was densely populated with vampires which stank of rotting flesh and hovered here and there, black as night, looking like smoke curling from funeral pyres. Then a Brahman-Rakshasa came up. "Greetings!" "Who are you, terrible creature?" asked Yaugandharvayana in surprise. "I am a Brahman-Rakshasa, and I am delighted to see and and freely offer you a gift: my friendship." "As we do not know each other, this is a generous gift indeed," said the minister. "I am Yaugandharvayana, the Prime Minister of King Udayana." "Good luck on your ventures," said the monster, "and accept from me two things. First, I.will teach you the ability to change the shape of yourself and others. Second, if you ever have need for me, call and I will come." The Brahman-Rakshasa taught Yaugandharvayana the shape-changing spell and then disappeared. Yaugandharvayana repeated the spell and suddenly became hunchbacked and old, with the expression of a madman. And he then changed Vasantaka into a man with a body full of bulging veins, 97 with a large stomach, and an ugly mouth of protruding teeth. The Prime Minister sent Vasantaka on to wait at the gate of the king's palace. He then entered Ujjayini, singing and dancing, and was soon surrounded by boys and looked on with curiosity by all. He made his way to the king's palace. The presence of this creature in Ujjayini caused talk among the king's wives, and finally Vasavadatta heard of him. She sent a maid to fetch him up to the concert room, for she was young and curious about him. When Yaugandharvayana came in he saw the King of Vatsa held in chains, and he could not help but shed tears. And he made a gesture to the king, who both could not believe his eyes and yet could not deny to himself that here was his minister. Then the minister made himself invisible, so that the maids and the princess exclaimed that the madman had escaped somewhere. Udayana, thinking quickly, said to Vasavadatta, "My dear princess, isn't it time to worship Sarasvati? Go on and gather the materials for the rite." "Well," said Vasavadatta, "all right then," and she left with her companions. "I must act quickly," Yaugandharvayana said in the king7s ear, still invisible. "Listen and he taught him the spells for breaking chains and for winning the heart of Vasavadatta with the strings of his lute. Then he said, "Vasantaka is presently standing outside at the gate, in a disguised form. Have that Brahman summoned to you. And when the lady Vasavadatta comes to rest her confidence in you, then you must do as I tell you. Till then, 98 let us remain quiet." Just then Vasavadatta returned with the implements for worship. "Princess," said Udayana, "I hear that there is a Brahman at the gate. Let him be brought in to celebrate this ceremony in honor of Sarasvati, so that he can obtain a sacrificial fee." The princess complied and Vasantaka was brought into the music room. As Yaugandharvayana had done before him, when Vasantaka saw the king in chains he began to weep. To cover for him the king said, "Brahman, I will remove these deformities of yours, brought on by sickness - come near and remain with me, and do not weep." Vasantaka replied, with a straight face, 'It is a great condescension on your part, O king." The king, seeing how deformed Vasantaka was, could with difficulty keep his own face straight. And Vasantaka, seeing what was on the king's mind, laughed so that the deformity of his face got worse. And Vasavadatta, seeing the man grinning like a doll, burst into laughter, and was much delighted. Then the young princess sat down near and asked Vasantaka in fun, "Brahman, what science are you familiar with? Tell us." "Princess," he replied, "I am a teller of tales." 'Then come, tell me a tale." And to amuse the princess, Vasantaka told the following tale, charming for its comic humor and variety. 99
The Story of Rupinika In Mathura, Krishna's birthplace, there lived a prostitute by the name of Rupinika. Her mother was a vile old whore, a splash of poison in the eyes of the young men attracted to Rupinika's charms. Her mother had instructed her well in the science and economics of her profession, but not at all in the realm of feelings and love. One day Rupinika headed to the temple where she provided her weekly sacred services for the male congregation. On the way she saw a young man, and his handsome features made such an impression on her that all her mother's teachings fled from her mind. She said to her female attendant, "Go tell that man that he must come to my home today." The maid ran to comply. But the man replied to her, "I am a poor Brahman named Lohajangha. What business can I have in the house of Rupinika, where only the rich may enter?" The maid responded, "My mistress does not want money from you, she wants love." And so of course Lohajangha consented. When Rupinika heard the results of the conversation she returned directly home in a state of great excitement, and once there she remained seated where she could watch the pathway down which he would come. At last the young man arrived. Rupinika's mother looked at this impoverished fellow and wondered where he'd come from. But Rupinika rose to greet him and taking him by the hand she led him joyfully to her chambers. There she was delighted and captivated by Lohajangha's accomplishments in the 100 sensual arts, and she realized that she had only been bom to love him. After this night she spurned all other visitors to her house, and Lohajangha came and lived with her in joy and comfort. Now Rupinika's mother, who had trained many prostitutes before her, was annoyed with this and finally had a talk with her daughter in private. "Daughter, why are you living with this poor man? A woman of your profession should prefer to embrace a corpse rather than a pauper. And don't talk to me about affection. What business does a whore have with affection? Have you forgotten the great principles of our work? The sunset gives out warmth at the end of the day - and then it's gone. And so, too, when a whore gives her affections, her splendor is soon gone. On the contrary, a whore, like an actress, should exhibit an assumed affection in order to profitably do her trade. Don't squander yourself! Forsake this poverty-stricken fellow." Rupinika answered in anger, "Don't say another word about it, for I love him, more than my life. As far as money is concerned, I have plenty of it, so why do I need more of it now? Just don't mention this to me again." The mother was enraged at this defiance, and in the ensuing days she began to consider ways to get rid of Lohajangha. Then she saw coming up the road a very wealthy merchant, surrounded by armed retainers. She ran out to greet him, and he in turn returned her salutations, having heard of the charms of Rupinika's house. Then the mother said, "There is a certain good- for-nothing installed in my daughter's house. If you come and roust him out, you can possess my daughter - at no charge." The merchant heartily agreed to this; and he sent his retainers inside 101 the house to find the poor lover. It so happened that Rupinika was working at the temple, and so when the retainers entered the house to attack Lohajangha there was no one to protest. Dragging him from her apartments they set upon him, giving him kicks and blows, and they carried him out of the house and threw him into a sewer; and Lohajangha painfully climbed out amid their taunts, and running off he escaped further abuse. When Rupinika came home she saw the merchant, self-satisfied, and a retinue of armed men, and no Lohajangha. She realized in dismay what had happened and naturally she collapsed with grief and rage. The merchant, perceiving that he was not going to get his reward after all, left in a disgruntled mood. Lohajangha, shaken by this brutal outrage, wandered despondent and lost. All through the middle of the day he roamed, thirsty and burned, both by the heat of the sun and by the rage within him. Not being able to find shade of any kind, he finally found the carcass of an elephant on the shore of the Ganges that had been devoured by the inside by wild jackals. Only the bones and skin remained, so Lohajangha crept inside to rest. As he slept the clouds gathered, and suddenly it began to rain. The rain made the skin of the elephant contract so that there was no escape from inside it. The river rose in the storm and swept the carcass into itself, so that Lohajangha was borne downstream and eventually into the sea. A Garuda bird flying over the water saw this elephant and picked it up, and carried it to Ceylon on the far side of the sea. The bird dropped the elephant on the sand and began to tear away at the flesh. But when it found 102 the man inside it took surprise and flew away. So Lohajangha emerged from the carcass and found himself, to his astonishment, on the other side of the sea. Looking around himself he realized with alarm that there were two Rakshasas nearby. They were contemplating him with great interest and some trepidation. Now the Rakshasa race remembers the deeds of Rama, who had come to Ceylon from across the sea and defeated the armies of Rakshasa on that island. Seeing that this man had also crossed the sea, and in such astounding circumstances, they were filled with supernatural fear. Therefore they decided to go to the king of the land and put themselves at his mercy, and ask for what should be done. So the two Rakshasas went before king of Ceylon and told him what they had seen. The king of course also knew of the deeds of Rama, and in order to be prudent he instructed the Rakshasas to respectfully greet the stranger and invite him to come to the palace. The Rakshasas timidly went and did so. Lohajangha, on his part, accepted the invitation with unruffled calm and went to the dty of Lanka with the monsters. When he entered the city he was astonished at the strange beauty of the place. There were many styles of buildings, and edifices covered with gold. Finally they reached the palace, where he came before the king. The king welcomed the Brahman, who blessed him in return. The king of Ceylon then asked, "Brahman, how did you manage to come to this country?" 103
The cunning Lohajangha replied, "Being afflicted by my poverty, I went to the temple of Vishnu in my dty of Mathura and remained fasting for a long time. Then the god appeared to me in a dream and said, 'Go to my faithful worshipper the king of Ceylon, he will give you wealth/ I said to the god in my dream, 'But that king is across the sea, I can't reach him.' And Vishnu said to me, Today you will see him.' Then I woke up, and I found myself here on this side of the sea." When the king heard this he determined to collect a suffident wealth for Lohajangha, and he in the meantime entrusted him to the care of the man-slaying Rakshasas. Next he sent some subjects to a mountain in his kingdom, where they captured a young Garuda bird and brought it back for Lohajangha to tame and ride upon. Lohajangha then rested and was luxuriously entertained in Ceylon by the king for some time. Finally the king was prepared to let Lohajangha depart. He presented him with many valuable jewels and treasures. And out of his devotion to Vishnu, who was incarnated as Krishna in the city of Mathura, he presented Lohajangha with a lotus, a club, a shell, and a discus of gold, all symbols for Vishnu, which Lohajangha was then to offer to the god in the Mathura temple. Lohajangha then mounted his bird and bid the king, the monsters, and the people of Ceylon farewell. He rose into the air and travelled all the miles from Ceylon to Mathura without difficulty. Once there he descended into an empty hermitage outside the city. There he hid his wealth and tied his mount. He then went to the market and sold one of his jewels, and then he bought costly garments, unguents, flowers, 104 and decorations, and also some food, which he ate and shared with the bird when he returned to the hermitage. Then he dressed in the clothing and loaded himself with the garlands and devotions. And when night came he mounted the bird and flew to Rupinika's house, bearing the lotus, shell, discus, and mace, looking for all the world like Vishnu himself. He hovered in the air over the house he knew so well, and he called out in a low, deep voice. Rupinika awoke and came out, and she saw there a being looking like Vishnu, golden and splendid and gleaming with jewels. He said, "I am Krishna, come here for your sake." Rupinika then bowed her face to the ground and cried, "May the god have mercy on me!" Then Lohajangha descended, tied up his bird, and then entered the apartments with his beloved. In the morning he left once more and flew away. Rupinika remained quiet throughout the day, thinking to herself, "I am now the bride of Vishnu. I must cease all interaction with mortals." Rupinika's mother grew annoyed at her daughter's distraction, and after persistently nettling her she managed to get Rupinika to speak. The mother heard the cause of Rupinika's withdrawn and silent behavior, but she felt some doubt about the matter. However, that very night she saw Lohajangha come on the bird, and enter the apartments of Rupinika. In the morning the mother humbly came to her daughter and asked her this request, "Since you are now an intimate of the god, ask him to grant me this request, as I am the mother who gave you birth. Ask him that I may, in this very body of mine, enter paradise." That evening Rupinika passed this request to Lohajangha. He replied, 'That mother of yours is very wicked, so she can't be taken openly into 105 paradise. But at intervals the door of heaven is open so that the Ganas, Siva's attendants, may enter before anyone else. If we disguise your mother to resemble one of these Ganas she can sneak in with them. So shave her head with a razor leaving five locks. Put a necklace of skulls around her neck, strip off her clothes, and paint one side of her body with lamp-black and the other side with red lead." The next day Rupinika complied and in the evening turned over her mother to Lohajangha. He took up the whore, naked and transformed as specified, and he flew with her into the air. While flying he beheld a high stone pillar in front of a temple, which had a discus on its summit. So he flew there and he pushed the mother onto the top, where she scrambled and barely managed to hang onto the edge of the discus with her hands. Lohajangha said to her, "Wait here a moment while I bless the earth with my approach." Then, seeing a number of men waiting to enter to participate in the nightly sacred rites of the temple prostitutes, he called their attention from the air and said, "Hear this! This very day there shall fall upon you here the all-destroying Goddess of Pestilence; therefore hurry to Krishna for protection!" The news spread throughout Mathura and all the inhabitants of the city, being terrified, rushed to the temple to implore the protection of the god. The king himself, hearing of the commotion, rode out with his attendants to see what was happening. In the meantime Lohajangha removed and hid his beautiful garments and finery and came to mingle in the crowd to better enjoy the effect of his trickery. 106
Meanwhile, the mother still dangled from the pillar and, feeling at last that she could not hang on any longer, she cried out, "Alas! I am falling! I am falling!" The people at the temple below looked up then and were beside themselves with fear on seeing the destroying Goddess just above them, falling down. But then the first light of day came up and the citizens and the king recognized the old whore for who she was. All the people instantly forgot their alarm and burst out laughing. Rupinika finally arrived and when she saw what had happened she was abashed. With the help of the people there she managed to get that mother of hers down from the pillar. The king and all the people demanded to hear her story, and after she told the king about Vishnu and the plan to sneak her into heaven, the king realized that some sorcerer or very clever person had managed this deception. He therefore made a proclamation that whoever it was who had made a fool of the old whore and deceived all the would-be lovers at the temple should show himself, whereupon the king would grant him a turban of honor on the spot. So Lohajangha stepped forward from the crowd and told the whole tale. He asked the king for leave to offer the lotus, discus, shell, and club to Vishnu at the temple, as he had promised to do. The king granted this, presented Lohajangha with a turban of honor, and made Rupinika a free woman, releasing her forever after of all duties to the temple. And then Lohajangha, having had his revenge on the old whore, lived in great comfort in Mathura with the large stock of jewels from Ceylon and in the company of his beloved Rupinika. 107
King Udayana (continued) Vasavadatta laughed with delight to hear this tale from the ugly Vasantaka. And King Udayana, sitting by her side, felt great joy in his heart to hear her laugh. As time went on the princess did indeed find herself falling in love with Udayana. Sensing the time was right, Yaugandharvayana made himself invisible and spoke with Udayana in the presence of the clown Vasantaka. The minister said, "My lord, the king of this land made you captive only for the purpose of getting you to marry his daughter. Now in order to save honor all around we must carry her off and escape. Thus we shall be revenged for that monarch's trickery, and he shall have the son-in-law he desires and deserves. I have prepared the way by bribing the elephant driver. So tonight we shall escape to the village of Pulindaka, your ally in the mountains." That evening Udayana confided in Vasavadatta all the details of their escape plan, and she agreed to them. That night she had the elephant driver prepare her mount. Udayana broke his chains with the spells taught to him by Yaugandharvayana, and they all mounted the elephant and stole away while the others slept. The king had to slay the warriors at the gate of the rampart. The dty patrol was raised and Chandramahesena informed of the escape. He immediately sent his sons Palaka and Gopalaka in pursuit. Udayana held these princes off with arrows, and in fact the brothers' elephant would not 108 attack that of their sister. Finally Gopalaka, who knew what his father's intentions really were, convinced his brother to leave off, and so the escape was successful. By late the next day they had reached the village of the mountain chief. There they rested, and in the morning General Rumavat reached him there with his entire army, which filled the forest and plains below. Soon after a messenger arrived from King Chandamahesena, stating that the king consented to the marriage between Udayana and his daughter, and that all the proper, official ceremonies should take place in this Udayana's country. He was told that Prince Gopalaka would arrive at Udayana's capital to represent the king there. The princess was delighted and at the same time vastly impatient. And so Udayana had his Master of Revels tell the following story to her, to divert her attention and increase her affection for her husband-to-be.
Devasmita Once a rich, childless merchant brought many Brahmans together at his home and said, "Please take the steps necessary to gain me a son." One of the Brahmans said to him, "That won't be difficult, because Brahmans can accomplish everything there is through rituals according to the scriptures. For example, hear this story."
The Childless King There was once a king in the old days who had one hundred and five 109 wives but no sons. He got a Brahman to perform a sacrifice for him and so a son was finally born, as beautiful in the eyes of the king and his wives as the full moon rising. Now one day an ant bit the boy on the leg, which hurt him terribly and caused him to cry loudly. At this the whole harem went into a chaos of lamentation, and the king himself shrieked "My son! My son!" like a common man. The ant was soon removed, the boy quieted, and the harem restored to order; but the king reflected that the whole ordeal had been caused because of having only one son. So he consulted the Brahmans again and asked how he might be able to get a large number of children. The Brahmans answered, 'There is one way. Slay the son and offer up his flesh on the fire. By smelling the smell of the sacrifice your wives will all bear sons." And the king did so, and so he obtained as many sons as he had wives.
Devasmita (continued) "And so, my dear sir," concluded the Brahman, "we can easily get a son for you by means of a simple burnt offering." The fee was paid to the Brahmans and the ceremony performed; and later a son was born to the merchant and named Guhasena. The merchant in time decided to go look for a wife for his son, so he and the young man went off to a distant country to trade and also to look for a bride. In that country they went to the home of another successful merchant, and the father saw his fair daughter Devasmita and thought her a good match 110
for his son. But the father of Devasmita was very attached to her, and didn't approve the match since Guhasena's home city was so very far away. But when Devasmita saw Guhasena she decided herself to abandon her family and become his wife. Therefore that night she crept out and met up with him, and the father and son escaped with her back to the dty from which they had come. Eventually Guhasena's father died and it fell upon the young man to carry on his father's business alone. He was urged by his relatives to travel to a distant city for trade, but Devasmita was extremely jealous and worried about the chances of her husband finding another woman there, and refused to approve of the travel. Guhasena was therefore confused about what to do. So he and his wife entered a temple of Siva and performed rites, trusting in the god to show them the way out. Siva appeared before them and placed a red lotus in the hand of each. He said, "If either of you is unfaithful then the lotus in the hand of the other shall fade, but not otherwise." Therefore Guhasena set out with his lotus in hand and Devasmita remained at home watching the flower in her hand. Guhasena reached the dty and began trading jewels. And four young merchants there noticed that he always carried a red lotus in his hand. Being very curious about it, they invited him to their house in the evening and got him fairly drunk on wine, then asked him about the flower, whereupon Guhasena told the whole story. After seeing the unsuspecting young husband to the door, the four merchants, knowing it would take him quite some time yet to finish his business, decided among themselves that they Ill would travel to Guhasena's home dty and attempt the adventure of sedudng his wife. Once at that dty they made inquiries and found a certain female ascetic who was known to engage in wicked activities for money and fun. They went and told her what their objective was and asked her help. She in turn invited them to stay in her house and promised to manage the whole business for them. First she went to see Devasmita. By flattering the servants and giving them presents of sweet delicades she got in to the house and approached Devasmita's private rooms. But outside the entrance to the apartments there was a dog on guard, fastened with a chain, and this dog barred the way and growled. Devasmita sent her maid and had the visitor brought in, wondering to herself what this could be about. Once inside the wicked ascetic said, "I saw you last night in a dream and so had to come and look on you for myself. I can see you are lonely, being separated from your husband, and so I hope we can converse again at a later time." And with these and other sweet words she tried to gain the lady's confidence. Then she took her leave. On the second day she took a piece of meat with her that was coated with pepper dust. Once at the entrance to Devasmita's apartments she gave the meat to the dog, who gobbled it up. But because of the pepper the dog's eyes began to water and her nose to run. Then the wicked ascetic ran in to Devasmita's apartments, crying. "My friend - look at that dog weeping there! Today this creature 112 recognized me as a companion in her former birth. Then her tears began to fall!" Devasmita went and looked and saw with amazement that this was so. "But why is this happening?" "My dear, in a former birth that dog and I were two wives of a Brahman. Our husband frequently went to other countries on missions for the king. Now while he was away I enjoyed myself with other men, and so did not deny my senses and nature of their proper enjoyment. And because I did my duty to myself in this way, I have been born in this lifetime as a human being. But my co-wife, through ignorance, denied her senses in that previous life and so she has been degraded and bom as a dog." Devasmita reflected to herself, "This is a novel conception of duty. This woman is up to no good." But she said aloud, "Reverend lady, I have been ignorant of this duty up till now, so please help me." The ascetic said, "Some charming young merchants from another country are staying with me. I will bring one of them with me next time." Devasmita said to her maids after the ascetic had left, "Those scoundrelly merchants, whoever they are, must have seen the unfading lotus in my husband's hand, and somehow finding out its meaning have come here to seduce me. We will see! Bring me some drugged wine and get a dog's paw made of iron as soon as you can." The next evening the ascetic brought one of the merchants with her. Devasmita's personal maid dressed herself up to look like her mistress, and received the rascal in her place. She got him to drink the drugged wine. When he was completely stupefied the maids stripped him of his clothes, 113 branded him on the forehead with the dog's paw, then dropped him into the sewage ditch. Late that night he recovered his senses. Looking at his reflection in the filthy water of the ditch he saw to his horror the mark on his forehead. He made his way back to the ascetic's house stark naked, and was just able to find a rag to wrap around his head before the others saw him. They asked with alarm what had happened and, in order not to look ridiculous, he said that on the way home after the successful interview with Devasmita he had been hit on the head and robbed. The next night the same thing occurred with the second young merchant. The would-be seducer woke up in a ditch and stumbled home, then wrapped his head in a cloth, claiming a headache from overdrinking. The third and fourth nights went the same way. When the last one came home they all decided to leave without telling the ascetic what had happened, in hopes that she might suffer in a similar manner. So the ascetic went on the subsequent evening to find out how Devasmita had enjoyed herself. Devasmita received her and offered her wine. When the ascetic was drunk she had the nose and ears cut off of that wicked woman, and had her turned out into the ditch. Then, worried that the young merchants might take revenge on her husband, Devasmita went to her mother-in-law and described the whole proceedings. The mother-in-law approved her daughter's actions, but was also concerned about the consequences. But Devasmita said, "I will deliver him even as Saktimati delivered her husband." The mother-in-law asked, "How did this occur?" and Devasmita told the following story. 114
Saktimati and Her Husband In our country, in this city, there is a shrine of a powerful Yaksha that was established by our ancestors. Whenever a man is found at night with another man's wife he is placed with her in the inner chamber of that temple and in the morning is brought out to the king's court, where his behavior is made public and he is punished by death. Once long ago a merchant was found by a city guard in the company of another man's wife. Therefore the two were placed in the temple. The merchant's own wife heard of this and quickly went to the temple under the pretence of making offerings. By means of a bribe to the priest she got him to open the door to the inner chamber. There she saw her husband, looking sheepish beside the other woman. The wife made the woman exchange clothes with her and sent her out, and she remained inside the temple with her husband. When the king's officers came in the morning to fetch the merchant he was found by all to be in the company of his own wife. The king of course dismissed the charges, and the man was saved from death by the wisdom of his wife.
Devasmita (continued) "In this same way I will go and save my husband." Then Devasmita went out in the dress of a merchant and came to the country where her husband was. When she arrived it was the court day. All 115 the citizens were gathered in the public square. Devasmita saw her husband there, surrounded by other merchants, and she saw also those four wicked merchants in the group. So she went up before the king and made a petition. "Oh lord, there are in your midst four slaves of mine who have escaped." He replied, "All the citizens are here before the palace - tell me which are your slaves." She picked out the four, all of whom had wrappers still around their heads. The king scoffed. "These are the sons of four distinguished merchants. How can they be your slaves?" She answered, "If you don't believe me, take off their turbans and see their foreheads, which I have marked with a dog's foot." Curious, the king ordered this to be done, and the whole citizenry beheld the four abashed merchants with the marks on their heads. The astonished king said sternly to Devasmita, 'Tell me what this actually m eans." Devasmita removed her turban and showed all that she was a woman. Then she told the whole story of the adventure. The people burst out laughing and the king said, "My lady, these are indeed your slaves, by any measure of the word." The other merchants then collected and paid a large sum of money to the chaste wife to redeem the four from slavery. And having recovered her husband, and being honored by all, Devasmita returned to her own dty and was never afterwards separated from her beloved. 116
King Udavana (continued) 'Thus, my queen," Vasantaka conduded, "women of good family worship their husbands with chastity and resolve, and never think of other m en." When Vasavadatta heard this story she forgot completely the shame she had felt from so recently having left her father's house, and her mind became even more attached to her husband-to-be. The couple left soon after for the king's capital, Kausambi. With great ceremony; followed by the elephants of the forest, surrounded by the ringing of the soldiers' weapons and the trampling of their horses' hooves; raising clouds of dust up to the heavens; and in high spirits they returned in a few days to the city. The people of the city were waiting eagerly to look upon the face of their king once more, and to catch the first glance of their queen. The citizens filled the streets, the wives stood on the tops of the houses, and the city had the look of a grove of golden lotuses blooming in the heavenly Ganges, with all these beaming faces. Soon after they arrived Prince Gopalaka arrived with other members of King Chandramahesena's court. The brother began the next day to arrange the festival of his sister's marriage. The King of Vatsa was then wedded to Vasavadatta with all ceremony and joy. And afterwards the king and his ministers, his wife, and his new brother-in-law all celebrated this successful achievement of a very difficult enterprise. 117
Figure 7. Book 3: Udayana Conquers Lands 118
Book 3: Udayana Conquers Lands This is the story of Udayana's campaigns to conquer kingdoms.
The Ministers' Plan Udayana gave himself up to enjoying his wife, leaving all the duties of his kingdom to the ministers. Therefore the prime minister decided it was up to the ministers to increase the lands of the kingdom. He decided it was necessary for the king to marry Princess Padmavati so he could forge an alliance with the only king who was in the way of his gaining lands. They had to accomplish this marriage by trickery to the king; they manipulated him to gain the greater good for himself and the kingdom. The prime minister and general agreed on the principle of this plan but the general was at first concerned that their plot would fail. The prime minister and general argued, each using examples of stories to support his side of the argument. Some six or seven stories were told, and the prime minister finally won. The prime minister and the queen's brother convinced queen Vasavadatta to go along with the scheme. They planned to pretend that the queen had been killed in a fire so that the king would feel free to marry again. Yet in order to prevent the king from committing suicide himself they also had to make him believe that the queen was actually still alive, they had to make him suspect that they were tricking him. This was all accomplished and the marriage to Padmavati, and then the reunion with Vasavadatta, were accomplished. Next the king and queens and ministers sat together and told each 119
other stories. The king told one, the prime minister told one, the master of revels, Vasantaka, told several. The king told another, and the prime minister told yet another. Finally the king went off to conquer all the lands, which he succeeded in doing. 120
Figure 8. Book 4: Naravahanadatta is Bom 121
Book 4: Naravahanadatta is Born This is the story of Naravahanadatta's nativity.
Life at Court The king enjoyed the results of having conquered all the lands and of having his two wives. A hermit came and told the story of Pandu of the Mahabharata to illustrate to the king the dangers of the vice of hunting. A needy brahman woman came and was taken care of by queen Vasavadatta. She then told several stories to the queen. Vasavadatta became pregnant with Naravahanadatta. The prime minister told a story about a long ago emperor of the Vidyadharas. The master of revels also told a story. Naravahanadatta was born. 122
Figure 9. Book 5: Saktivega, a King of Vidyadharas 123
Book 5: Saktivega. a King of Vidvadharas This is the story of a king of the Vidyadharas.
Saktivega's Story At the childbirth bed a celestial being appeared before the queen, the king, the prime minister, and the newborn Naravahanadatta. It was Sakitvega, a king of the Vidyadharas, who came to pledge his allegiance to the future emperor. He then told his story of how, though he was born a mortal himself, he became a Vidyadhara king. This episode of Saktivega's is absolutely full of stories. Having finished his long tale, the Vidyadhara king took his leave and went back to his heavenly kingdom. 124
c d
bp
C >s 5 J3 cn 2
cu a.
Figure 10. Book 6: Princess Madanmanchuka 125
Book 6: Princess Madanmanchuka This is the story of the birth and marriage of Madanmanchuka, who will be Naravahanadatta's main wife and the catalyst for his conquering of the Vidhyadhara kingdoms. Included in this story is the tale of the thwarted love of Udayana and Kalingasena.
King Kalingadatta Imagine the flowing of a wide, royal river that moves forcefully towards the sea but has a surface as smooth as old glass. Along the banks of this river is a beautiful city. Its long line of palaces stand reflected in the water, like a capital of subterranean regions, risen from below to gaze at the splendor of the earthly metropolis. In this city there lived a king named Kalingadatta, a distinguished Buddhist. His city was crowded with splendid Buddhist temples and all people thrived within its walls. He cared for his subjects like a father and tended their spiritual growth like a Rishi. In his city lived a rich Buddhist merchant who took pleasure in contributing money to Buddhist mendicants. This man had a son who constantly derided and detested him for his generosity to Buddhists. "You've abandoned the Vedas for Buddhism," the son complained. "You ignore Siva and the other gods, and you neglect the Brahmans in favor of those Buddhists. Why do you demean yourself by honoring those low- caste people, who after all come to this Buddhist discipline only because it will accept them into its temples? They can then ignore bathing rituals, eat 126
whenever they feel like it, and go about quite at their ease with only a rag around their hips. I'm disgusted that you have anything to do with this. It's irreligious." In answer to this the father replied, "Religion is not restricted to any one form. And to search for the transcendental in religion is not the same as promoting one world religion. Hinduism, like Buddhism, consists of seeking truth in showing compassion to all creatures. And in avoiding quarreling pointlessly with one's relations." "You're wasting your money on these beggars, and you're promoting atheism!" "What’s wrong with contributing to Buddhist monks? I take pleasure in participating in Buddhism by making donations. And if take pleasure in this system of devotion, which consists mainly of achieving liberation through avoiding injuring any creature, where am I being irreligious in doing so?" But the merchant's son refused to see his father's point of view, and continued to criticize him for it. Finally, the father went in disgust to king Kalingadatta and placed the whole matter before him. The king thought about this for a few minutes and then determined his course of action. He immediately summoned the merchant's son into the receiving hall and, pretending to be angry, he said to his executioner, "I have heard that this merchant's son is wicked and addicted to some pretty horrible practices and crimes. I am offended past the point of putting up with this — execute him immediately as a corrupter of the realm." 127
The father quickly interceded in alarm, and begged the king to relent. King Kalingadatta made a partial concession, allowing the son to return under the care of his father to learn virtue over the ensuing two months. But he set that after those two months the son must be brought before him again to be executed. The son returned home with his father but spent the next two months unable to sleep or eat for fear of his approaching doom. At the end of his reprieve he was taken again, now thin, pale, and exhausted, into the presence of the king. The king said to him, "What — why are you so thin? Did I order you not to eat?" The merchant's son said, "Maharaj, I could hardly remember who I was, much less could I remember to eat during these months since I heard your decree of my execution. I have been unable to think of anything except my death, slowly advancing day by day." The king replied, "Ah ha! So I've been successful in making you teach yourself what the fear of death is all about. This is the fear that every living creature has — and what higher religious piety can there by than to preserve creatures from that? I showed you this so that you might understand the religion of your father, by which he strives to free all creatures, and himself, from fear of death and attain Moksha, the soul's final release from all the cycles of rebirth." When the son head this he was smitten with astonishment and relief, and a new appreciation for his father's religion flooded him. He said 128 excitedly, "Maharaj, I suddenly have a desire for liberation from the fear of death and release from the cycle of transmigrations. My lord, teach me this also." The king then had a bowl full of oil given to the merchant's son and he said to him, "Take this bowl and walk all around the dty. Don't let a single drop spill — if you do, then these men will immediately cut off your head." Then he dismissed the young man and ordered two guards to follow him around the city with drawn swords. It was a great feast day that day in the city. The merchant's son walked with extreme care, in his great fear of the swords raised just behind him, and he negotiated the city, full of celebrants, with great difficulty. Finally he returned to the presence of the king. King Kalingadatta said to him, "Well, how was the walk? What did you see as you went around the dty?" The merchant's son said, "To tell the truth, Maharaj, I didn't see or hear a single thing the whole time, because I had my undivided attention fixed on not spilling a drop of oil. " The king said, "Since your whole being was intent upon the oil you saw nothing. Practice your religious contemplation with the same devotion. When one concentrates with all attention withdrawn from outward activities, then one will have the intuition of the Truth. And once this truth is apprehended, one is never again completely entrapped by outward works. With awareness of Truth one achieves Moksha, liberation. "And there, my young man, I've given you a comprehensive lesson in 129
Buddhism and salvation." Then the merchant's son fell at the king's feet with praise and, dismissed, he returned to his father's home enlightened and rejoicing. In the meantime, in heaven above the city, the God Indra was holding a celebration. All the beautiful Apsaras flew to Indra’s heaven to dance at the feast, all but one who was not anywhere to be seen. Noticing her absence Indra divined that she was meeting in secret with a Vidyadhara youth, who had sneaked into the domain of the gods for the tryst. Indra became enraged and thought, "Both of these lovers are wicked. She because she acts willfully and forgets all about us, and he because he enters my heaven in order to improperly satisfy his lusts." But then, reconsidering, Indra concluded that only the Apsara maiden was at fault. "She has enticed that miserable Vidyadhara. What male creature can restrain his passions when a female’s beauty, flowing between the high banks of her breasts and through the valley of her thighs, sweeps him away like man in a river to the sea? This heavenly maiden is the wicked one." And so Indra spared the youth and cursed the maiden to be born as a mortal woman. He decreed that after she obtained a daughter that was not born from a mortal womb, and had fulfilled the objects of the gods in her human life, then she would return to heaven. That evening in the royal city, queen Taradatta, consort of king Kalingadatta, enjoyed the intimate company of her husband and the heavenly maiden was conceived in her body. That night she had a dream in which a flame came down from heaven and entered her womb. In the 130 morning, as they lay together on the pillows of her bed, she described her dream to the king. He was highly pleased and said, "My queen, heavenly beings do fall into human births as the result of curses. I'm convinced that a divine being has been conceived in your body. All beings are bound by their actions, good and evil,and constantly move among the states of existence in the three worlds to receive the fruits of their actions, blessed and miserable. For example, acts of great courage result in prosperity. In illustration hear this tale."
King Vikrasinha There is a a city in Avanti which had a king named Vikrasinha, the Lion of Valour. And as from a lion his enemies fled before him like deer, never daring to meet him in battle. Because he could never get a king to fight with him he eventually grew disgusted with the sight of weapons and the might of his body made him miserable, and he grieved because he never got to experience the joy of battle. He inwardly longed for an enemy worthy of him. His minister finally discerned the source of his king's grief, and he remarked to him, as if incidentally, in the course of conversation, "It's not hard for a king to court the sin of pride in his own valour ,and even to long for enemies. But think of Bana, who through pride in the strength of his 1,000 arms, wished for an enemy worthy of him. Duly, the god Vishnu became his enemy, and then cut off his 1,000 arms in battle. So you must not be dissatisfied if you have no opportunity to fight. Rather, if you want to 131 exercise your strength and skill in weapons, do so in the forest, in hunting, which is an appropriate field for it. "Hunting is approved for kings for exercise and excitement, since kings are not generally exposed to fatigue. Moreover, malignant animals roam the king's forests, and it is good for kings to slay these creatures. But also, do not unremittingly pursue and slay, because obsession with hunting becomes a vice. And there are many stories of how this vice has led other kings to destruction." On this basis of this advice the king took heart and decided to mount a hunting expedition. On the next day he started off for the woods. The sounds of nets being pitched in which to drive animals filled the forest, as did the noises of horses and dogs and the calling of footmen and shouting of hunters. The king went forth on the back of an elephant, and as he was leaving the outskirts of the city he noticed two men sitting and talking together in an empty temple outside the city walls. He continued on into the woods, and there he fought with drawn sword the tigers of that district, and he enjoyed the roaring of lions, the singing of his men, the sweating of the elephants. Deer leaped sideways across his path and he fixed them with his straight- flying arrows. The earth was strewn with the corpses of the hunt. And in the evening, having thoroughly enjoyed the sport of hunting, the king returned to the city with his kill, weary and relaxed as a slackened bowstring. As he entered the walls he saw those two men whom he had noticed on going out, still debating as before, and now he thought, "Who are those men? What do they discuss for so long? They must be thieves or spies." So he sent for his 132 warder and had the men captured and imprisoned. The next day the two men were brought before him, and the king asked the question, "Who are you and why were you conferring for so long in that abandoned temple?" The men fell at his feet and begged for their lives, and one of them said, "Hear our story, Maharaj."
The Audacious Lovers I was born to a good Brahman in this very city. But my father died early and my mother followed him into the funeral pyre. Thus, as a mere boy, I found myself left to my own will, without a superior to direct me. Though I had learned the religious sciences I abandoned the course of life suited to my caste and I practiced hunting and gaming. Having passed my childhood in this way I gained great confidence in my abilities. It happened that one day while hunting in the woods I saw a bride being carried in a palanquin through the woods, surrounded by her attendants and accompanied by her bridegroom. But suddenly an enraged elephant, dragging its broken chains, came charging in and attacked the ensemble in a fury. Those attendants fled in all directions and the cowardly husband abandoned the bride in terror. When I saw this I cried out in excitement, "Have those miserable wretches left this poor woman all alone? I must defend this unprotected lady. What is the use of courage and might if not used to protect the unfortunate?" So I raised a shout and ran toward that huge elephant, and the elephant turned its attention from the lady to me. I yelled and ran and drew 133 the beast off to a distance. Taking up a tree bough which had fallen, I confused him with it and, escaping by a dexterous movement, I left the creature to trample the bough to pieces. Then I ran to the lady, who remained terrified where she had been dropped, and I begged to know if she had escaped injury. She replied, "How can I say I am uninjured, having been bestowed on a coward who deserted me in such a dire situation? But then again, I can now say I am injured, now that I look upon you here, returned and unharmed. "Listen — my husband means nothing to me anymore. You are henceforth my husband; by your hand you delivered me from death, heedless of your own life." Seeing her husband and servants approaching from the distance she concluded hurriedly, "Now follow us secretly, and when we get a chance we will elope together." I ought to have thought, "Though this woman is beautiful and throws herself upon me of her own will, still she is the wife of another, so what could I have to do with her?" But this would have been the course of self- restraint, not of ardent youth. So I accepted her plan and hid myself in the woods. And as the party continued on the journey in the ensuing days I followed it, undetected. Throughout the journey my lady claimed to her husband to have suffered injuries in her fall, and so she avoided even touching him. After time we reached the dty of her husband, and stopped at a temple outside its wall. And there I met this young Brahman man you see standing beside me, my friend. Though we had never met before that time, still we felt 134 the shock of recognition for each other, as all creatures recognize in their hearts the friendships formed in previous births. So I told him all about my situation. He then said to me, "I know of a way we can both achieve what we desire. I know and love the sister of this woman's husband. We have been planning to elope, and so with her help we can also free your lover, too." The next day, by their arrangements, my beloved and her sister-in-law came to the temple. My lady and my friend then exchanged clothing, and so, dressed as a man, she left the temple with me. And my friend, dressed as a woman, returned to the house. That evening they managed to sneak out and together we have all travelled here to this city. So we have both obtained wives who have bestowed themselves upon us out of love. But we are afraid to live anywhere, my king; for who can rest at ease after having performed such deeds of reckless temerity? Thus we were deliberating outside in the temple yesterday, trying to decide where to live and how to subsist. Now your Highness knows the whole story. It is for you to dispose of us at your pleasure.
King Vikrasinha (continued) The king said, on hearing this, "I am satisfied. Don’t be afraid — I will supply you with wealth and you may all dwell here at my court."
King Kalingadatta (continued) "Thus," king Kalingadatta concluded to his queen, "prosperity results for those who perform even questionable acts, if they perform them with 135 great courage. In the same way the whole of creation will always reap the fruits that correspond with their deeds, good and bad, in this and previous births. So you can be assured, my queen, that the flame you saw descend into your body in that dream is a creature of divine origin that has been conceived in you as a result of its works." When queen Taradatta heard this from the mouth of her husband she was exceedingly delighted. Queen Taradatta grew more oppressed each passing day with the weight of her unborn child. Finally she gave birth to a daughter, astonishing in her beauty, whose splendor eclipsed even the light of the protective spirit lamps that surrounded her cradle. Her father's countenance was darkened as well, with disappointment that a son of equal beauty had not been born instead. Knowing that a son is the embodiment of joy and far superior to a daughter, which is nothing but a domestic calamity and a lump of grief, he sorrowed over the gift that had not been granted him. He wandered through his palace in this state of depression, causing the other inhabitants great concern and distress. Finally an elderly Brahman who had grown old in the household said to him: "King, why are you grieving after the birth of this pearl of maidens? Daughters are even better than sons, and bring happiness in this world and the next. It's absolutely perturbing that kings long for sons, who after all just covet the kingdoms and gobble up their fathers like crabs. And how can one obtain the benefits of the marriage of a child? Only through a daughter is this possible. Consider that this child is a heavenly being incarnate in your home, 136 and that through her marriage your ends will be accomplished." So king Kalingadatta allowed himself to be comforted. He began to take pleasure in the presence of his child, and he gave her the name Kalingasena. And so the princess grew up in her father's house, playing in the palaces and in the palace gardens like a joyful breeze full of life and playfulness. When Princess Kalingasena was a young girl of 14, it happened one time that an Asura maiden travelling through the sky saw the child playing in a garden of the palace. The Asura was struck by Kalingasena's beauty, which was great enough to bewilder even the mind of a hermit. The maiden felt an intense love for the girl and descended from the sky, taking on the form of a mortal so not to alarm her. Kalingasena was delighted with her visitor and asked her name. "I am Somaprabha," the Asura replied, "and if you will permit, I will love you as a friend." "Oh, yes, please do." The Princess threw her arms around her neck. "Be my friend for life." With arms encircling each other's waist, the two girls walked through the king's garden. They spoke all day of their private thoughts, their feelings about those things that meant the most to them, and their hopes for the future. With every hour each felt more strongly towards another. Each thought to herself, "Here is a girl with remarkable sensitivity and cleverness, with a charming disposition, kindness, and grace." After a while Kalingasena exclaimed, "This is remarkable. We must 137 have been deep friends in a former life. Tell me,if you know it, what our former connection was." Somaprabha replied, "I don't know my former birth, or yours, dear Princess." "But tell me this at least. Which divine being is your father in this life? What race have you adorned by your birth, you who are wholly perfect like a beautifully rounded pearl?" Somaprabha smiled and began to tell her story.
The Story of Maya There is a mighty deity by the name of Maya, a member of the Asura race, noble adversaries of the gods. And he, as you know, gave up being an enemy of the gods and fled to Siva for protection. Siva received him and promised him protection; and Maya then built the famous palace of Indra and performed other feats in heaven. But the other Asuras became angry with him, since he had abandoned them to become a partisan of the gods. Therefore Maya built a mighty, magical subterranean palace in the Vindhya mountains, which the Asuras could not reach. My sister and I are the daughters of Maya. My elder sister took a vow of chastity and lives in my father's house. But I have been given in marriage to an Asura prince who is loyal to my father, and I live in my husband's house.
King Kalingadatta/Princess Kalingasena "Now it's my turn," said Princess Kalingasena. "Devoted daughters 138 serve their parents with their wits as well as their charm. In illustration of this, hear the following story."
The Stupid Pishacha Long ago there was a Brahman who lived on a royal grant. Once he went into the woods to cut his own wood to bring home, since he was a poor man and could not buy it. As he was chopping wood splinters flew left and right and, as chance would have it, one large piece hit his leg and entered deep into it. Blood gushed from the wound and he fainted there on the spot. Later that afternoon the Brahman's daughter, missing her father, searched for him through the woods. She discovered him lying in a state of unconsciousness, his axe at his side, wood splinters everywhere, and blood soaking the ground around his leg. Crying out with alarm, she tried to rouse him and, that failing, she rushed to the house of a Brahman friends of her father's and together they brought the man back to his own home. The daughter washed off the blood and consoled her father as he regained his senses, and applied a bandage to the wound. But, though she continued to tend it carefully every day, the wound did not heal but instead became swollen and hot. Finally, during a visit that friend of the Brahman said to him in a low voice, "Well, since you have no money with which you can deal with this by the normal routes, you will have to take an unorthodox one. I have a friend who was in a dire financial situation and he applied to a Pishacha monster to use its magical powers to aid him. He was successful and ended up obtaining wealth and happiness. So why not use the same method 139 to supplicate a Pishacha and ask it to heal your wound?" The man agreed in his desperation and the friend gave him these directions. "Rise up naked at the last watch of the night, with dishevelled hair and unwashed mouth, and in that state take two handfuls of rice to a crossroads. Leave that rice there and return without looking behind you. Do this every night until that Pishacha appears." The man did as directed and, after several nights had passed, the monster appeared before him and agreed to aid him. The Pishacha flew to a high Himalayan peak and brought back heavenly herbs, which it used to cure the wound. The Brahman was delighted but the Pishacha was even more pleased with his handiwork. In fact, he was so puffed up with pride that he insisted that the Brahman give him another wound to heal — otherwise he would kill him. The Brahman agreed in alarm to return the following night with another wound, then he returned home, considering that he now had a worse problem than he'd started with. So the next night, before going to bed, he gashed himself deeply with his axe. He then went to the Pishacha at the last watch as he'd promised. The monster healed him again and again insisted on getting another chance. This continued for many days, and the Brahman grew more despondent and waxen every day. His daughter was growing pretty upset as well, with all this unexplained self-mutilation and deepening despair. She finally persuaded her father to reveal the problem. On hearing it the cunning girl smiled and said, "Bring me with you tonight and ask that Pishacha to heal a wound of mine. And if he can't, he'll have to leave you alone from now on." 140
The Brahman accepted his daughter's proposition and accordingly he brought her to the monster that night. Before the Pishacha the young woman lifted her skirts and asked shyly, "Please, sir, can you heal this wound of mine?" The Pishacha applied its ointment once, twice, numerous times, but was unable to heal it. After a while it began to grow tired of this and raised the girl up in its hand to see whether any progress was being made. On the contrary, on examination it discovered beneath the first fissure yet another, even deeper one. Greatly alarmed at having achieved the opposite of its intent, it dropped the girl and fled into the night. Then the daughter and the Brahman, laughing at the stupid Pishacha and happy at the fortunate outcome of their adventure, returned to their home.
King Kalingadatta/Princess Kalingasena (continued) Somaprabha and Kalingasena laughed as well. Then Somaprabha resumed her heavenly aspect and rose up into the air, to astonishment of spectators at the palace, and returned to her home. That evening Kalingasena, so excited by the wonders of the day and the joy in her friend, was so agitated and disturbed that she did not eat. The next morning Somaprabha arrived with a basket filled with wooden mechanical dolls. The girls embraced and sat down beside one another. Kalingasena was excited and overjoyed by the sight of Somaprabha and told her, "The three watches of the night passed as slowly as three hundred, while I waited for your return." "Look!" said Somaprabha. "I've brought a basket of toys to amuse you." Somaprabha opened the basket and showed Kalingasena the automata, 141 made of wood and magic. One of them, on the touch of a switch, flew through the air and gathered garlands of flowers and brought them back. Another danced. Another talked with them. While they played with them Somaprabha said, "I told my husband last night that I had formed a friendship with you, and he gave me permission to visit you every day. But now you must get permission from your parents so that we may visit each day without concern." Then the two went hand in hand before the king and queen, and Kalingasena introduced Somaprabha and recited her family history. Those two monarchs, pleased with the girl's appearance and descent, received her politely and said, "Dear girl, we entrust our daughter to your care. So play together as much as you like." The friends, delighted with this pronouncement, went out into the garden. They took the basket of magic toys to a Buddhist temple. There Somaprabha took a magic Yaksha and sent it to collect the needed objects for the worship of Buddha. The Yaksha toy went through the sky and returned with a load of pearls, gems, and golden lotuses. The girls performed worship with these, and then Somaprabha showed Kalingasena a series of Buddha automata, which depicted Buddha in all his incarnations. In the afternoon the two ate at the palace. And during supper Somaprabha said to her friend, "I promise I will visit you every day, as long as you remain unmarried. But when you take a husband I will not be able to see you, because I am a chaste girl and will not enter another man's house." "In that case," said Kalingasena, "I will never be married at all!" Somaprabha smiled and shook her head. "With your warm and 142
loving heart you are sure to fall in love with some young prince or king sooner or later. And when you do, then come to me, and I will help you to bring your love to a successful union. I wish this happiness for you. And because I wish you happiness, I also hope you will gain a household that has no mother-in-law or sister-in-law in it." Kalingasena was surprised. "Why do you hope for this? When I leave my father's home, am I do have no new mother to care for me? And when you can no longer come play, am I to have no loving sister to be a friend to me?" Somaprabha replied, "To understand what a hardship it can be to share a household with female in-laws, hear this story of Kirtisena's marriage."
Kirtisena The wedding date, O Princess, was set by astrologers. Kirtisena's father then took her to her future husband's city. Beautiful Kirtisena; her hands were decorated in golden-red filigrees of henna. Her hair, washed with fruits and dried over incense, was coiled upon her head. And her dowry was draped upon her — rings in her ears and nose, combs in her hair, silver bells and bright jewels making garlands around her neck. Her father was a very wealthy merchant. She had received all the care a daughter could receive, because her father loved her as much as his own life. And she had always been a virtuous girl. But she was untested in the world beyond her father's household. Thoughts of hope and apprehension 143 passed through her mind as her female relatives dressed and teased and adorned her. This second birth, that of a woman from a girl, would bring her into a new world, with a new family, and she would have to leave all the old world behind. Her father had chosen a promising young merchant as her husband, and hopefully he had chosen well, but Kirtisena would be like a baby, because the problems or blessings of her new world would depend on the nature of her new family. Her father was wealthy; and the wedding rituals lasted for five days. The guests and relatives were feasted on foods rich with clarified butter, with saffron rice and sweet pastries silvered and gilded with foils. With garlands of flowers around their necks, Kirtisena and Devasena finally circled the sacred fire. They fed the flames with offerings; sprinkled seeds and grains burst with tiny explosions, and the clarified butter sizzled and made the fire dance. Kirtisena began the journey around the fire as her father's daughter, her uncle's niece; with every pass she transformed, and became her mother- in-law's daughter, her husband's wife. Beautiful Kirtisena glanced at her husband and he returned her look across the fire with a smile. Somewhat reassured, she lowered her gaze. By that one look she sensed that he was a warm-hearted man. A hopeful feeling came to her. Devasena, for his part, found himself melting with love as circled the flame. The woman opposite him had not only physical beauty, which excited him quite enough, but also some deeper qualities of attraction which touched him and drew him to her. He looked at her tenderly. Kirtisena's eyes were drawn to the woman who sat in the mother-in- 144 law's place. And then she hastily dropped her glance. Devasena's mother had been staring at her with widening eyes. She must have seen something in Kirtisena's face that displeased her very much. But what had been there except the reflection of Devasena's affection? Her father and his family and retinue left the city shortly after the ceremony to return to Pataliputra. Turning her back to the dust of retreating carriages, Kirtisena climbed into a palanquin and rode to her new home. The dome of the sky deepened to dark blue overhead, making a window onto the coming night. Warm breezes mixed with cooler scented ones from passing gardens. She felt content. After entering her new home Kirtisena and her husband first paid their respects to Devasena's widowed mother. The old woman touched their heads and smiled, with no trace of her former look. Then Devasena led her through the house. A slave carried a lantern before them to dispel the slight shadows that had gathered. The doors opened onto the courtyard, where lanterns augmented the provocative colors of dusk. The couple passed through the garden to the opposite wing of the house. "Strange — I am not tired at all from the days of festivities," said Devasena. "In fact, I feel more alive than ever. I would be delighted to share an evening of wine and games with you." Kirtisena replied, "I am eager for your conversation." Thus he led her to the nuptial chamber. The room, lit with teasing, flickering oil lamps, was resplendent with the odors of sandalwood and flowers and the colors of gold and vermillion in countless shades on pillows, tapestries, carpets, bedspread. In this room 145
Kirtisena played dice games with her husband, and they paid their penalties in caresses and loving looks. Under the touch of his hands on her arms and thighs, she forgot all concerns about the mistress of her household. And indeed, in the presence of her husband in the ensuing days,she felt only deepening affection and delight and was granted a growing sense of well-being. But as her husband found it necessary to leave her occasionally to tend to his trade, Kirtisena began to receive signs that her mother-in-law was not pleased with her after all. She threw sharp words at her, and the servants seemed to be carrying out the ill wishes of their mistress. Kirtisena's food would be served to her spoiled; her bath water would be icy cold or scalding; her clothes would come back from the wash with holes in them. Kirtisena considered her situation and decided not to speak with her husband about it, because she feared that her mother-in-law's dislike would be turned into hatred if Devasena should accuse her of acting against his wife. And so she bore the pain of a mother-in-law's covert cruelty, while she enjoyed, on the other hand, the adoration of her virtuous husband. One day, my Princess, Devasena began to make arrangements for a journey. Alarmed, Kirtisena asked what he was doing. He told her that his relations, ever on the look-out for opportunities to secure his business, had discovered favorable conditions for trade in the distant dty of Valabhi. He had finally decided to take the opportunity. Hearing this and feeling overwhelmed by foreboding, Kirtisena said to him, "I've never mentioned anything about this up until now, but please believe me. Your mother treats me very badly while you are going about in the city. I am dreadfully afraid of 146 what she will do to me when you are gone to a distant country." This was surprising news for Devasena. He'd seen no sign of jealousy from his mother before this. But he was very fond of Kirtisena and so he considered how to speak with his mother tactfully about this before he went to her. Then without saying that Kirtisena had talked to him, he said very respectfully, "I will be leaving my wife for the first time while I am away on this business trip. I am entrusting her to your care, mother. I trust that you will take very good care of her while I am away. She is the daughter of a good family, remember." "So? What do you mean by that?" "Ah — well, I mean that she is used to being well cared for." Naturally, since Devasena's mother was guilty, she heard these words as an indictment of her actions, and she knew that Kirtisena had spoken with her husband. She felt anger rising within her, but she said sweetly, "When have I done otherwise? Call her here." When Kirtisena was brought into the room Devasena's mother said, "Have I ever raised a finger against you? No? But I detect a bad-tempered impulse in you to goad my son and raise mischief in this house. There are no grounds for concern, my son. Both of you are the same in my eyes." Devasena was relieved to hear these lies, and away he went the next morning with an easy heart. But Kirtisena felt as though walls were closing down on her, as though a gag had been put into her mouth. She was unable to say or do anything to protect herself. And then, as the days went by, she found the servants becoming terribly neglectful and even vicious. She was 147 refused food, and no-one would come when she called. And so along with her despondency with missing her husband, she had to endure cruelties. One evening as she passed through the hall she saw a dark shape moving in the shadows. Kirtisena spun about. She was horrified to see her mother-in-law lurking there, glaring at her with red, crazy eyes. Behind the old woman stood a tall, stout maid, grinning down. "You — you horrible girl!" the mother cried. She grabbed the young woman's hair at the roots. Kirtisena squealed and tried to pull away. The maid darted forward and clamped onto Kirtisena's wrists. "Rakshasi!" The mother-in-law began to slap at her. Kirtisena tried to twist away from the maid, but strong, thick hands held her roughly. "You wicked, wicked girl!" The woman pummelled her with the sides of her fists. "You've stolen my son!" Her voice rose hysterically. "You've stolen my son!" She beat on Kirtisena's breasts. She tore her clothes. Kirtisena screamed and tried to kick. 'Take her into the back!" the mother-in-law screeched. The maid pulled the young woman off her feet and dragged her by the arms. The mother-in-law continued to throw kicks in Kirtisena's direction as she was dragged across the yard. In the twilight, out behind the kitchen, the mother-in-law stooped to open the cellar trap door. She proceeded to rip every piece of clothing off the poor woman's body. Then she commanded, "Throw her down!" Kirtisena tumbled into darkness. The old woman's head hung over the edge of the trap door. "I will tell 148 them that you have run away with a lover," she hissed. Then the square of sky above her disappeared. Kirtisena held her breath, and then she wailed at the top of her voice. But no-one came to let her out. She shivered for hours, huddled against the cold dirt wall. And she thought to herself bitterly, "How do I find myself here! I was bom to a good family, I was endowed by fortune with beauty and charm, I have lived a virtuous life, I have a good husband, and yet — I will die here in this hole, naked and bleeding and alone. O, wicked mother-in- law! Such is the lot of a wife. No wonder the birth of a daughter is mourned rather than celebrated! There is every risk that dishonor and calamity will befall her, and will thereby cast an evil atmosphere over the whole family." The night wore on. Kirtisena could not tell how long or short a while she had been in that hole. After crying until her strength for crying left her, she began creeping around the cellar to search for any scraps of cloth to cover herself with or any roots to eat. But there was nothing to be found. The old woman must have planned this, and taken everything from the hole. And then, O Princess, a wonderful thing! As Kirtisena grasped in the blackness her hands closed upon a small shovel. It was as though the Creator had formed her cries of pain into iron. And knowing that the way out of her troubles was now literally within her grasp, she found sufficient strength to dig her way out. By good luck she rose up into her own apartment. The room was illuminated by a lamp she had placed there before. This light inside the confines of her own private room seemed only a reflection of the inner brilliance of her own undiminished virtue. Taking heart from this recognition, she considered what she was to do. 149
"I cannot return to my father's house after having been forced to act as I have. What could I say there? No-one would believe me, they would surely believe my mother-in-law's lies instead. And a married daughter returned is a calamity for the family. No, since it has not been my fate to suffer and die in that cellar, I must make my way to my husband by my own ingenuity. For a husband is the only refuge of a virtuous woman in this world and the next." Then Kirtisena took clothes and gold from her room. And she took man's garb and ornaments from her husband's room. Moving stealthily at the very end of the night, she left the house and went out of the city. Once safely in the countryside, she bathed in a tank of water and put on those splendid clothes of a merchant. At last she could walk without fear on the roads. Imagine how strange it must have felt to Kirtisena, dressed in trousers with a brocaded jacket, a soft golden cap upon her head, as she walked freely and alone along the highway. As the moon set on one side of her and the sun rose on the other, she came to the next city. Thinking on how her father conducted his business, she made her way to the bazaar to sell some of her gold for money. And though she may have felt herself in a strange and wondrous circumstance, walking freely and conducted business with men, her poise and knowledge of her own virtue carried her on, and all who saw her remarked, 'There is a fine young prince." Speaking with the merchants in the marketplace, she let it be known that she intended to travel to Valabhi. And so she was directed to a merchant named Samudrasena who was preparing to set out for that dty. She struck up 150 a friendship with this merchant, and sojourned that day in his house. When he inquired about her story she answered, "I am oppressed by my clansmen, and so I wish to go to my friends in Valabhi." And the merchant thought, 'This young man represents himself as a merchant, but from his splendid clothes, and moreover from his bearing and demeanor, I can see that he is a prince. I imagine that his clansmen are trying to disinherit him or cause him some other trouble, an he travels to Valabhi to gather support." So thinking, he replied, "In that case, come with me, for I leave in the morning for Valabhi." The next day the caravan departed. Samudrasena appointed his own son to wait on Kirtisena during the journey. The young son thought to himself, 'This merchant is so gentle and refined, his complexion is as smooth as milk, his voice is light and certain, as though shouting or angry words are never required to bring obedience and respect. He must be a prince in disguise." The caravan headed for the forest road, which was much preferred over the high road by travellers who wished to avoid paying the heavy highway tolls. And in a few days the party reached and entered the forest. That evening, while the caravan was encamped, a female jackal uttered a terrific howl, like a cry from the messenger of death. The merchants, who understood what this omen meant, became apprehensive of an attack by bandits and ordered the guards to be placed round the camp on every side. The guards took their weapons in hand, but the darkness itself advanced on the camp like a vanguard of bandits. Kirtisena looked at this 151 and thought to herself, "Alas! My sins in a former life have bred and produced a whole brood of evils in this life. I have escaped the calamity wrecked upon me by my mother-in-law, only to be found by disaster again in this place. If I am slain here by bandits, never to be heard from again, my mother-in-law will say to my husband, 'Her fickle heart was drawn to another man and she ran off with him somewhere/ But if a bandit tears off my clothes and sees that I am a woman, then I will surely endure outrage, and death is better than that. Therefore I must save myself somehow, even though it means abandoning my friend the merchant. For upholding my virtue is my duty as a wife, and I must place that even above my duty to friends." So she left the camp and searched in the forest until she found a tree with a hollow in its trunk. She pulled herself into this opening and covered the front with leaves and branches. In the middle of the night a large band of thieves fell upon the caravan from all sides. The fight that ensured was like a dreadful storm. The thieves howled and raced about like thunder clouds. The upraised weapons of bandits and defenders flashed jaggedly through the blackness like lightning strikes. The ground was soon drenched by the rain of spilling blood. And at last the thieves, being more powerful, slew Samudrasena and all his followers, and made off with all his wealth. To Kirtisena, who was listening to the terrible tumult, it seemed that fate alone had destined that only she out of all the travellers would not be violently robbed of breath. Finally the night departed and the rays of the sun cut through the 152 forest around her. She left the hollow tree and considered that the gods themselves must preserve women in misfortune who are of unfailing virtue and devote themselves exclusively to their husbands, for by so thinking she had escaped both the prison of the cellar and murder by bandits. And indeed, as she wandered through the forest, a lion watched her pass and refrained from slaying her. Then Kirtisena met a hermit in the wood, and when she asked him for directions he comforted her, and gave her water from his vessel, and told her the road to take, then went on his own way. And so, refreshed by the hermit's consideration, and free now from hunger or thirst, she took the route he had indicated for her. When the sun began to set behind the Western mountains before her she looked for a place to spend the night. She found a great tree in the forest with spreading roots and a large hollow place beneath root and trunk, spread with a carpet of green moss for a bed. It appealed to her like a little house; so she climbed into this hollow and pulled branches before the opening for a door. And there she rested for half the night. Late in the evening she was awoken by a terrible stench and the alarming grunts and growls of foul creatures. She put her eye to a chink in her door, and saw to her horror a terrible Rakshasi approaching, accompanied by her young sons. Kirtisena was terrified, thinking to herself, "Alas! I shall be devoured by this Rakshasi after having escaped from all my other misfortunes!" But the Rakshasi and her sons proceeded to climb into the tree, having failed to observe the hiding woman. 153
And Kirtisena heard the following conversation. "Mother! Give us something to eat!" "Children, I had bad luck and good luck tonight. You won't eat now but soon we'll have a royal feast we'll be shitting off for half a year!" With that the Rakshasi made a horrible noise, sounding to Kirtisena as though she were expelling her organs through her mouth; but then she realized this was laughter. The Rakshasa children only grumbled. Their mother continued, "I went to the boneyard tonight, hoping to dig up a fresh corpse or two, but there was a stinking batch of witches having a party in there. Well, I tried to bust in, but they were too strong for me. I couldn't come near the place. Then I asked them real nice, could I please come in and have a snack, just a joint or two for my hungry little ones, but the hags just showed me the dark sides of their butts and went on with their business. "Where could I turn? I fell on my face and called on Siva as the Destroyer. The god appeared before me, his wild eyes rolling and his long red tongue lolling and a horrible grimace disfiguring his face, and I while I adored him I begged him to tell me where I could get a meal. He then told me the following wonderful news! The king of the city of Vasudatta, a very dull and virtuous old man, has caught a parasite which is drying out his body even as we speak. A few days ago, Siva said, the king was hunting in this forest and sat beneath a tree to rest. While he slept a centipede entered his ear and has since given birth to a a brood inside his head. The doctors have no idea what's causing his illness, and if no-one finds out in the next few days the 154 king's a goner. And Siva said we are to go to Vasudatta, and if we eat the king's corpse we will be full for the next six months. The children asked excitedly, "Are you sure he will die?" "Yes, fools, if he isn't cured." "But how could he be cured?" Then the Rakshasi told them the only way the king could be saved, and Kirtisena listened closely to the explanation. She thought to herself, "I must get away from here and use the Rakshasi's method to save the king. Samudrasena told me that this king is generous and imposes a very light toll on his highways, and so the merchants always pass by way of his city. So my husband is sure to travel back by this route. Therefore I will cure this king and await my husband there." In the morning the Rakshasi was gone, so Kirtisena set out once again. In the afternoon she came upon a cowherd. This man was taken by the delicate beauty of the merchant prince he saw approaching him, and felt moved by compassion at the signs that this prince had accomplished a long journey. Kirtisena asked him the name of the country. He answered, "This is Vasudatta and the city ahead of you is Vasudatta, and it belongs to the king Vasudatta, who lies there now almost at the point of death." "If someone could conduct me to the king," Kirtisena said, "I know how to cure him." The cowherd said promptly, "I will do it myself." He accompanied her to the city and on to the palace, where he turned her over to the warder, who 155 sent news to the king, then brought her before him. King Vasudatta, though nearly dead of his illness, nevertheless was comforted by the very presence of the disguised lady. It was as though his soul recognized her as a friend, though her mind knew her not. So he said to her, "I had a strange dream last night, in which a lady came and stripped a black blanket off of me. Therefore I believe that you will cure me. And if you do, I shall give half my kingdom to you." Kirtisena replied, 'Tomorrow at noon I will relieve you of your illness, so have patience." And to sooth him in the meantime she massaged his head with oil, which made him sleepy and relieved him of his pain. At noon the next day Kirtisena had the king brought into the courtyard. She had him sit in the heat of the sun for a long time, while she rubbed his head with warm butter. His head became hotter and hotter, as the butter intensified the effects of the sun. Then she placed one end of a hollow cane tube in his ear, and put the other into a pitcher of cool water. And the centipedes, annoyed by the heat and perspiration, came out into the tube and, seeking coolness, fell down into the pitcher. One hundred and fifty centipedes came out one after the other and drowned in the water. The king looked with horror and astonishment at the pitcherful of drowned centipedes which had so recently been dwelling inside his head. And he immediately declared a feast, and honored Kirtisena, and presented her with half his kingdom, with villages, elephants, horses, and gold. And all the queens and ministers also loaded her with gold and garments in gratitude for her saving the life of their sovereign. But Kirtisena put all this 156 wealth back in the hands of the king, not desiring it herself, and said, "I cannot accept it, I am under a vow." But she stayed there in the king's palace for several days, awaiting news of her husband. And then she heard that Devasena was coming from the city of Valabhi. She went to intercept the caravan, and as it entered the confines of the city, she ran forward and threw herself at the feet of her husband. She wept with pain and joy at their separation and reunion. Astonished at first to behold this prince clinging to his feet, Devasena then saw that this merchant prince was no other than his beloved Kirtisena. Then Devasena stood in a state of wonder, marvelling at what this could mean. In the meantime the king of Vasudatta heard of the commotion and came to look for himself. And there in the presence of her husband and the king, Kirtisena told the whole story of her adventure, which had been caused by the wickedness of her mother-in-law. Devasena at once felt an aversion to his mother, and he regarded the whole adventure with a mixture of astonishment, anger, forbearance, and joy. Everyone who heard that story applauded Kirtisena's adventure. The king exclaimed, 'The chaste woman is like a warrior mounted on the chariot of devotion and love, protected by her armour of modesty, and armed with the weapon of intellect; and so she will be victorious in her battles. My lady, you who have endured affliction for the sake of your husband, allow me to regard you henceforth as my sister, as well as the savior of my life." "My king, allow your affection to be shown by giving my husband those villages, elephants, horses, garments, and gold which I myself could not accept." 157
The king was pleased to do so, and also bequeathed on Devasena a turban of honor. And so Devasena, finding his purse suddenly filled with these stores of wealth, in addition to all he had obtained in his own trading, remained in the city of Vasudatta with his wife. Henceforth he avoided all contact with his mother, and Kirtisena, the worst of banes removed from her life, dwelt there in the glory of her unmatched adventures and enjoying luxury and position, the rich fruits of her husband's good deeds.
Princess Kalingasena (continued) "Thus, my Princess," Somaprabha concluded, "you see that a good woman must endure the blows of a hostile fate, but possessing her own virtue and protected by her goodness, she acquires good fortune for her husband and herself. And also, O daughter of a king, many misfortunes befall a wife through mothers- and sisters-in-law. Therefore I will seek for you a household which has no such beings in it." At this the sun suddenly tipped down to the horizon, as though it had only been waiting to hear the conclusion of the story before continuing its journey toward night. Kalingasena went to the top of the palace to watch her friend fly off, so that she could look at her for as long as possible before she disappeared into the salmon evening sky. And as she stood there on the highest roof of the palace it happened that a young Vidyadhara king named Madanavega was travelling through the air and saw the stunning young maid. He stared at her as she stood gazing into the distance, in the slight breeze of the evening, the setting sun touching her garments as they moved 158
against the form of her body. Madanavega fell directly in love with her, and he flew away much disturbed. He said to himself, "Forget Vidyadhari maidens. Not even the Apsaras deserve to be mentioned in the same breath with this immortally beautiful girl. Yet she is mortal, not a divine being, so how can I marry her? And since I can't marry her, what's the point of life?" Returning to his own palace he reflected and then called to him a science of magical understanding, which appeared to him in bodily form. 'Tell me," commanded Madanavega, "all about this young girl, so that I may know if there is any chance of marriage and of life." The science obediently replied, "She is not a mere mortal woman, but is an Apsara who was sent to earth as a result of a curse, to be born in the house of king Kalingadatta." The Vidyadhara king heard this news with delight, and then continued in his deliberations. "The best course for me is to appeal to Siva by asceticism, and then ask the god to grant that I marry this maiden." Thus he went to a shrine of Siva and embarked on a course of worship by standing on one foot and eating no food for a period of days while focused on the attributes of the god. Then Siva, pleased with this devotion, appeared and told Madanavega the following: 'This maiden will have a hard time finding any king on the earth who is her match in beauty. Only king Udayana of Vatsa can measure up. These two are going to fall in love with one another, but there will be obstacles to their union. Therefore, you must wait, and at the appropriate moment you must disguise yourself as king Udayana and marry her in her chambers by the gandharva form of marriage. Then you will achieve all you desire." 159
One day Kalingasena told Somaprabha in private, "Listen, my friend, to what I have discovered. But don't tell anyone. Up until now there have been frequent visits by the ambassadors of various kings coming to ask my father for me in marriage. Up until now father has always sent them away as soon as they came. But now a king named Parasenjit has sent an ambassador who my father has received with honor. My mother was instrumental in the decision to receive him. So I think that my parents have approved this suitor and that they are going to bestow me upon him." When Somaprabha heard this, tears broke from her eyes and spilled through her fingers like a broken pearl necklace. Kalingasena asked in alarm what the matter was. Somaprabha, who had seen all the world, collected herself and said "Consider, my Princess. What are the most important traits in a suitor?" "Youth," said Kalingasena, "handsomeness, good disposition, wealth, and noble birth." "King Parasenjit has these qualities in the reverse order. I have seen him. He is an old man." Somaprabha began to grow upset again. "What is the value of his high birth to you? You will be pitied when you are linked to him. You will be like a lotus bed in the realm of winter." "Oh!" cried Kalingasena. "What am I to do?" "If only," Somaprabha continued, "you could have king Udayana as a husband, then I would be overjoyed. There is no king on earth equal to him in youth, looks, lineage, daring, and riches. Look at yourself, dear Kalingasena! You are the image of beauty itself. If you should marry this 160 unbelievably handsome man, then the will of the gods in creating you will have been perfected." "Udayana," said Kalingasena. "Well, who is he? Where does he live?" "He is the king of Vatsa, ruling the kingdom of Vatsa, and he is descended from Arjuna, hero of the Mahabharata, and so is descended from the god of the sun. There is no handsomer man in the world or even in heaven. "But he has a head queen by the name of Vasavadatta. She has had a son named Naravahanadatta, who has been appointed by the gods to become the future emperor of the Vidyadharas. I have seen this wife, and she cannot compete with you in beauty in any way. Therefore I know that she will oppose the king's marriage to you, for you would then become his favorite." "Then what am I to do? I am in my parents' hands. I must marry Parasenjit. And anyway there is no chance of marrying Udayana, for he is surely in his wife's power. But in this case, as in all others, I will put myself in your hands, for you have magical powers and knowledge, and only you can help me." Somaprabha replied, "In fact, dear Princess, the whole thing relies on destiny, not on me. Here — listen to this story as an illustration."
The Impulsive and Passionate Princess There was once a princess who was very beautiful, and every suitor that came to ask for her hand was rejected by her as not handsome enough. But it happened one day that while she was on the roof of her father's palace 161 she saw a man in the streets below, and this young man was very handsome indeed. She had an uncontrollable desire to meet him, and she sent her confidante to him to tell him about it. The man shrank back in fear, however, when he heard of the princess's desire. The confidante forced the man against his will to agree to a meeting in a temple that night. But the man fled as soon as the confidante left, and removed himself from the city altogether. Now it happened that a certain prince came into the city that night. His father had died and the kingdom and wealth of that king had been stolen from the prince by pretenders. The prince had therefore come to the dty to see the king there, who had been a friend of his father's. The prince by chance arrived at the very temple at which the lovers' rendezvous was going to take place. The princess, who was waiting, saw the shadowy form of the handsome young prince, and in her passion she failed to realize that this was a different man. So she threw herself upon him and by her own will she made him her husband — and the prince accepted the bride offered to him by fate. Afterwards they began to converse, and the princess realized her mistake. But she listened to his his story and she found him to be very charming. In the morning the prince went to the palace and came before the king to tell him of his father's death and to ask for support in overthrowing his enemies. The king agreed willingly, and after the prince left he decided to give him his daughter. The queen then informed the king of their daughter's adventures, as she had been told of them by her own confidantes in the 162 princess's chambers. The king was astounded and thankful that calamity had been avoided, and his own desires attained, by mere chance.
Princess Kalingasena (continued) "So you can see," concluded Somaprabha, "that everything that occurs happens by the special favor of fate. There is no way for you, as lovely as you are, to be joined to the king of Vatsa without the help of fate." Kalingasena, hearing this story, had her hopes fueled. As her aspirations grew she began to feel less fearful of her relatives, was less worried about going against their plans for her, and began to hear more faintly the warnings of modesty. In this state Somaprabha left her friend behind, with mind intent on the proposed daring attempt to win king Udayana. The next morning Somaprabha arrived and Kalingasena said to her friend, "You must show me this king Parasenjit, who my parents are determined for me to marry. And then take me to the place where king Udayana lives." When the impatient girl had said this Somaprabha answered, "If you must go, then let us travel in my flying chariot. But we must take all your retinue, for as soon as you have seen the king of Vatsa you'll find it impossible to return here. And you will never see or even think of your parents again. And you shall certainly forget me, as I must then remain away from you, as I will never enter your husband's home." Kalingasena burst into tears and said, 'Then bring him here, because I shall not be able to exist for a moment without you." 163
Somaprabha replied, "I cannot do this — you know that I can never touch a man other than my husband! So let us go in my chariot." Then with Kalingasena's retinue and treasure, they ascended in the magic chariot, unseen by the king and queen. First they went to the kingdom of king Parasenjit and beheld him in the distance as he hunted in the woods. Hair white with age, he rode an elephant and waved his royal flywhisk. But to Kalingasena this waving whisk seemed only to wave her away, as though signalling "Leave this old man!" And Somaprabha laughed scornfully and said, "Look! This is the man your father wishes to give you to." Kalingasena replied, "Old age has chosen him for her own. What other woman will want him? Take me away from here quickly, my friend, to king Udayana." So away they flew to the kingdom of Vatsa, an they approached the palace of king Udayana. From afar she saw him as he walked through his garden, and her eyes widened and her hand flew to her heart, for in that moment Udayana had entered her soul through that path. She exclaimed, "Somaprabha, arrange a meeting between us immediately, for now, having seen him, I cannot wait a moment longer." But Somaprabha answered, "Today I have seen an unfavorable omen. Let us wait until tomorrow. Then I shall devise some means for you to meet." "At least," Kalingasena cried, "let me remain here with my retinue, quiet and unobserved in the garden." 164
Somaprabha agreed, and then she departed for her own home. But when she was gone Kalingasena was unable to restrain herself, and so she sent her chamberlain to the king with an explicit message of her love and intentions. The chamberlain announced himself to the warder, and then, on admittance to the throne, addressed the king of Vatsa as follows: "O King, the daughter of Kalingadatta, Kalingasena by name, having heard of your virtues, has come here in a magical flying chariot, together with her retinue, conducted here by the daughter of the Asura Maya, Somaprabha. I have been sent to inform you of her arrival and to say — receive her, and let there be a union between you two as of the moonlight and the moon!" When the king heard this he was delighted and replied, "I consent!" He honored the chamberlain with gold and garments and sent him back. Then he summoned his chief minister, Yaugandharvayana, told him of the news, and then demanded, 'Tell me quickly, when shall I marry her? She is not to be rejected." The minister reflected to himself for a moment in order to consider what would be best for his master in the long run. He thought, "Kalingasena is certainly famous for her beauty. There is no other like her in the three worlds. The gods themselves are in love with her. If king Udayana obtains her he will abandon everything, and then queen Vasavadatta will lose her life, and the prince Naravahanadatta will perish. Queen Padmavati will also die, and the fathers of the queens will become hostile. Thus utter ruin will ensue from this union. On the other hand, I cannot advise against the match, since the passion of the king will only increase if thwarted. So I must delay 165 the marriage until I can come up with a chance to prevent it." So Yaugandharvayana responded to the king, "You are very fortunate that Kalingasena has come to you of her own accord. She is the daughter of a great king and powerful ally. So consult the astrologers and marry her in accordance with their determinations. And today give her a suitable palace and send slaves and clothes and ornaments." The king had this advice carried out with a glad heart. And Kalingasena entered the palace given to her for her residence and considered her desires all but attained. The wise Yaugandharvayana left the court and, conferring with the astrologers, arranged that they would fix a distant date for the marriage. In the meantime the queen found out about Kalingasena's arrival and summoned the minister and said, "You told me that I would never have a rival other than Padmavati, and now I find that this Kalingasena is about to be married here. And she is beautiful, and my husband is attracted to her, and you have lied to me, and now I am a dead woman!" "Compose yourself, Queen — how could this happen, while I am alive? I have taken the matter in hand. But you must not oppose the king in this matter. On the contrary, you must control yourself and appear compliant to his will. If a man is dragged against the current he will never escape from the river, but if he is carried along with it he can be saved. "Approve his marrying her. Tell him that his kingdom will be made more powerful by her father becoming his ally. If you do so the king's admiration and love for you will increase. And thinking that Kalingasena is 166 within his reach, he will not be impatient. You must teach this lesson to Padmavati as well. Oh, blameless one, you will behold my skill in strategy. For the wise are tested with difficulty, just as heroes are tested in battle. So do not despair." Then the minister departed, and the queen determined to follow his advice. But the king did not enter the apartments of his queen, since his mind was eagerly focused on the new union to be made with Kalingasena. And so the queen and the prime minister, and Udayana and Kalingasena, all spent the night in wakefulness, as though at a great feast, though in their own separate houses. The second couple stayed awake through their impatience for a great delight, and the first stayed up through their very profound anxiety. The minister's plan was put into effect the next day. The astrologers, when summoned before the king, reported that they had determined the auspicious date of his marriage to lie six months hence. On this cue Yaugandharvayana pretended to be angry and said to the king, "Forget these dolts! Your Highness must consult that other astrologer whom you have previous honored for his cleverness. Ask him and then do what is proper." In an agony of suspense Udayana summoned that astrologer, who then named, after much reflection, that same date. The king impatiently and anxiously ordered Yaugandharvayana to visit Kalingasena and find out what her will was. The minister went dutifully, bringing the astrologers with him. When he entered the presence of Kalingasena he was stunned by her 167 beauty and he reflected, "If the king were to obtain her he would abandon his entire kingdom in his passion." He then told her he had come to fix the date of the marriage. The astrologers asked her many questions and performed many calculations, mulling and arguing the whole time, and at last came to an accord, naming the same date as before. Kalingasena was extremely dejected to hear this, but her chamberlain said, "You must have a favorable moment, so that you and the king may be happy your entire lives. What does it matter whether the date is near or far?" The astrologers applauded, Yaugandharvayana agreed, and Kalingasena, being trapped, said "Let it be as you appoint in your wisdom," then fell silent. Then Yaugandharvayana left and returned to the presence of the king, and reported that Kalingasena had agreed to the date. Next, in order to complete the scheme he had put into motion, Yaugandharvayana called to mind the Brahman-Rakshasa. According to the Brahman-Rakshasa's previous promise, that creature readily came when thought of and he bowed before the minister, asking, "What have you called upon me to do?" Yaugandharvayana explained the whole situation and said, "I have managed to gain time, my friend. In this interval, do you remain concealed and observe Kalingasena. The Vidyadharas and the other divine creatures are certainly in love with her. So if she were to have an intrigue with a Siddha or Vidyadhara and you were to see it, our object will have been obtained." 168
The Brahman-Rakshasa asked, puzzled, "Why shouldn't I rather by some means cause her to fall, or simply slay her?" The minister said sharply, "That must not be done — that would be a wicked deed. The good and wise course is to proceed without offending Dharma, the god of justice, and in doing so Dharma himself will come to our aid. No, you must discover a self-caused fault in her. And in this way the king's interests will be served by me." The Brahman-Rakshasa bowed and, becoming invisible by his magic, he entered Kalingasena's home. In the meantime Somaprabha had arrived and discovered Kalingasena installed in a palace, in the midst of arrangements for her marriage. She appeared to her and said in dismay, "I have been here the whole time since this morning, hidden by my magic, and so I've heard the conversation between yourself and astrologers and minister, so I know exactly what the state of affairs is. Why did you make this attempt yesterday even though I expressly forbid you to do it? Any business undertaken without first counteracting an evil omen will end in disaster. "Let us hope that Fate grants you to be married without problems, but at the least your marriage is now going to be far off. And the gods are in love with you, too, so take care against this. Thirdly, you must be on guard with that minister Yaugandharvayana, who is an expert in politics, and also against your rival wife, who may bring a false accusation against you after your marriage. "And with this advice I must leave you, never to return, for you are 169 now established in the household of your husband." Thus Somaprabha, weeping, embraced Kalingasena, whose face was also wet with tears, and flew off to her own home, never to return. In the meantime the king of Vatsa, feeling very despondent and needing to divert his mind, went to the apartments of queen Vasavadatta. There the queen showed him special attention and care. The king then wondered how it was that, even thought she knew of the arrival of Kalingasena, the queen was not angry with him. So he said, "Do you know, my queen, that a princess named Kalingasena has come here to choose me for her husband?" As she heard these words the queen was careful not to allow her face to change in expression or color, and she replied, "I know it, and I am very delighted and pleased that the goddess of fortune has favored our house. For through gaining Kalingasena you shall also get her father under your influence and the earth shall be more completely under your power. I am fortunate to have a husband such as you, with whom princesses fall in love." The king was delighted to hear this. And so he enjoyed a drinking bout with the queen and spent the night in her apartments. When he awoke in the morning he reflected, "It appears that this magnanimous queen obeys me so completely that she acquiesces even to having a rival. But I don't know how this proud woman could really endure Kalingasena, for it was only by the special favor of destiny that she didn't give up her breath when I married Padmavati. If anything were to happen to Vasavadatta it would be utter ruin — in her rest the lives of my son, father-in-law, brother-in-law, 170 and Padmavati, and indeed the welfare of my entire kingdom. How can I marry Kalingasena?" That day he went to the palace of queen Padmavati. She too, haying learned the lesson from Vasavadatta, showed him her attentions and compassion in the same manner. So the next day, reflecting on the speeches and sentiments of the two queens, he praised them to his minister. And Yaugandharvayana, seeing that the king was in doubt, seized the moment and said, shaking his head, "Indeed, the matter does not end even where you think it does. The queens have spoken thus because they are determined to surrender their lives. Chaste women, when their beloved falls in love with another or has gone to heaven, lose all interest in the enjoyments of life and become determined to die. Even so, their intentions cannot be discerned by others because, being proud, they are able to conceal them." Udayana considered this and thought this could be likely, and so he went that evening to his queen Vasavadatta and began to console her. "My gazelle-eyed one, your love is my life, as water is the life of the lotus. I was targeted by Kalingasena, but I cannot bring myself to do anything without your wish." Hearing this, the queen's cheeks blushed red as heat of her passionate heart rose into her face, and the king saw by this that the queen truly intended to kill herself. So he took her in his arms, marvelling at the transcendent ability of his prime minister, and he spent the night with her. During all this time Kalingasena suffered continuous, sweet torment, watching king Udayana walking about the grounds and gardens, and then not seeing him at all. She was fevered by love, and though her attendants 171 prepared cooling lotions of sandalwood ointment, made her wear bracelets of lotus fibers, and applied other remedies, she remained unrelieved. In the meantime Madanavega, prince of the Vidyadharas, roamed nightly over her palace, inflamed in his turn by his love for her. Finally he could wait no longer, and assuming the form of the king of Vatsa he entered her palace in the night and was greeted with praises from the doorkeepers. The doorkeepers then announced to the princess, "Unable to bear delay, the king of Vatsa has come here without the knowledge of his ministers!" Kalingasena, on beholding him, arose bewildered with agitation and love. So she was unable to discern that he who wore the form of Udayana was not that man. And so she gave him her full confidence and Madanavega made her his wife by the gandharva ritual. And the Brahman-Rakshasa, who had faithfully kept watch over Kalingasena during the whole time, saw this and was downfallen, supposing that the king had indeed come to Kalingasena. He flew at once to the chambers of the prime minister to report this. Yaugandharvayana rose up hopefully, suspecting the true nature of the situation, and sent the Brahman- Rakshasa back to look on the sleeping forms of the pair. That praiseworthy creature did so and saw, to his delight, that beside the sleeping Kalingasena was Madanavega, in his own shining Vidyadhara form. The Brahman-Rakshasa flew back to the prime minister and exclaimed, "One like me knows nothing, even though I have magic sight and powers; one like you knows everything by the eye of policy and discernment. 172
By your wisdom this difficult result has been obtained for the king. What is the sky without the sun? What is speech without truth? What is a realm without council?" In the morning Yaugandharvayana went to visit king Udayana and asked, "What is to be done about Kalingasena? She does not deserve even to touch your hand. You know, she was betrothed by her parents to king Parasenjit, but when she saw he was old she was disappointed. So she came to you out of desire for your handsome form. But even now, as she does not have you, she enjoys the society of another man!" The king said, "Impossible! A lady of her birth and rank could not do such a thing. And anyway, who would have the power to enter my grounds unseen?" Yaugandharvayana answered, "The divine beings are in love with her, and what can any man do against them when their desires are aroused? But come tonight and see for yourself." That night the king and his prime minister went into Kalingasena's palace unseen. In Kalingasena's chamber he saw to his astonishment Madanavega in his perfect heavenly form sleeping by the side of Kalingasena. And the king rose in anger to slay that Vidyadhara. Then the Vidyadhara prince, perceiving danger by his magical knowledge, rose up and flew into heaven. With this Kalingasena awoke and, seeing the bed empty, exclaimed, "How can this be, that the king of Vatsa wakes before me and departs, leaving me asleep?" The prime minister whispered to the king, "Do you hear that? She has been tricked by a Vidyadhara wearing your form." 173
Then Kalingasena saw the two of them behind the screen in her room and she cried, "O, King! Wherever did you go, and how is it that you come now with your minister?" Yaugandharvayana said, "Princess, you have been married by a heavenly being, wearing the form of king Udayana. We have observed him here in his own form as he slept, and he, perceiving us, has flown away to his heavenly home." Kalingasena was struck by this speech as though by an arrow through her heart. With tears in her eyes she turned to the king and said, "Have you forgotten me, O, King, after marrying me by the intimate gandharva rite? Will you now deny me?" The king replied, with downcast face, "In fact you were not married by me. I never came here until this moment." Then the prime minister gently led the king from the chamber. Alone, that lady Kalingasena felt as utterly abandoned as she indeed was. A sojourner in a foreign country, having deserted her relations, a doe strayed from the herd, she was entirely without hope or support. Her face smeared of its makeup by kissing, her braided tresses disheveled, she was like a bed of lotuses trampled by an elephant and deserted. Now that her maidenhood was gone forever, without any idea of which course to pursue, Kalingasena in her despair looked up to heaven and cried, "Whoever it was who stole the shape of king Udayana and took my body in marriage — let him appear now, for he has made himself the husband of my womanhood." Then Madanavega appeared in his own shape. He was as brilliant as 174 the night sky, and he said, "Kalingasena, I am a prince of the Vidyadharas. Long ago I beheld you at your father's house and I fell in love with you. I performed severe penances before Siva in order to gain you, and he at last conferred on me the boon of the attainment of you, Oh magnificent one! As you were in love with the king of Vatsa, I took his form and thereby married you by stealth, before you could be lost to me." And then he comforted that fair princess, and hearing these nectarous words, and receiving the comfort of his caresses, her heart was somewhat nourished and revived, as a trampled lotus will revive with sunlight and sweet water. Then promising to return again, that husband of hers flew into heaven, leaving her alone. So Kalingasena remained where she was, unable to return to her parents' home, which she had left through passion, and unable to enter that abode of her husband, because she was mortal. And so she reflected on her fate. Kalingasena became pregnant after a while. At this point her husband told her that he could not visit her any longer, since such is the rule they have about these things in the Vidyadhara heaven. Kalingasena gave birth to a girl child. As soon as it was bom the gods took it away and substituted Rati incarnated as an infant.45 The child was given the name Madanmanchuka — fated to grow up to become Naravahanadatta's first and principal wife.
45Rati is Kama's wife. Kama is the God of Love, the Hindu Cupid - and Naravahanadatta is himself the incarnated form of Kama. Somadeva writes gr 1 Bos71: a ha dat eo sEmperor m E es Becom atta ad an ah rav a N 7-18: Books 11. igure F 175 176
Books 7-18: Naravahanadatta Becomes Emperor This is is a very condensed summary of the entire rest of the story of the Emperor of the Vidyadharas.
The Love Life of Naravahanadatta Naravahanadatta and Madanmanchuka enjoyed their married state together. Next, the prince got Ratnaprabha, a Vidyadhari, as his second wife. Naravahanadatta and Ratnaprabha enjoyed each other's company and they and the prince's ministers told each other stories about women. Ratnaprabha said that wives should not be strictly kept in a harem, because a chaste woman's own virtue protects her, while no force in the world can guard an unchaste one. She told a story to illustrate this. Naravahanadatta's favorite minister, Gomukha, told a story of mostly fickle women, with a few virtuous ones among them. The prince's minister Marubhuti told one that concludes that while most women are fickle, even courtesans occasionally have good qualities. Harishikha also told a story of good women who value nothing more than their husbands. Many more stories were told over the ensuing days, while Naravahanadatta and Ratnaprabha enjoyed each other in various amusing circumstances. This entire episode is a nice interlude for the readers, as well as for the prince and his newest bride. Next, Naravahanadatta heard of a princess Karpurika and fell in love with her from mere description. He set off immediately for her city with his minister Gomukha without telling his father, wives, or anyone else. But 177
Ratnaprabha figured it out with her magical sciences and reassured everyone. Naravahanadatta and Gomukha arrived at Karpurika's dty. In the neighborhood of the palace they found a noble woman's house, where they were courteously received. Trying to figure out a plan for how to win Karpurika, the prince asked the woman about the king and his family. Seeing that Naravahanadatta was a Kshatriya, a warrior and a prince, she told him that the king had a daughter named Karpurika, an only child, beautiful and marriageable, but who wouldn't be married because she hated men. According to the noble woman's daughter (who attended the princess), Karpurika's father said to her at one point, "My dear, why don't you want to get married, since after all marriage is the only fruit of a daughter's birth?" Karpurika replied, "I remember my former birth and because of what happened then, I do not desire to be married." The king asked her about her former birth, and in response she had told the following story.
The Swan Wife Once there was a swan living on a lake of lotuses, quite near to the sea. The swan made a nest in a sandalwood tree on the shore of that lake and lived there with her husband swan. She had a brood of offspring and was raising them there when a great wave came and carried the children off. Out of grief the swan stopped eating and took to worshipping a linga46 that had been placed on the shore. Her mate came to her and said, "See, now, don't
4(>A symbol of Siva. 178
mourn those dead children. We shall have others. As long as life is present, everything can be achieved." The swan was deeply wounded by this and thought, "Males! They don't care about their children and have no affection or compassion for their mates. What's the use of life?" So, after asking Siva that she remember her life in her next birth, she threw herself into the sea.
The Love Life of Naravahanadatta (continued) "And so," said the noble woman, finishing relating what her daughter had overheard, "the princess doesn't want to be married to anybody." Naravahanadatta came up with a plan. Dressed in the clothes of an ascetic and accompanied by Gomukha, he roamed about in front of the king's gate crying "Ah, my swan lady! Ah, my swan lady!" The princess' maids saw this and rushed to tell the princess. She had him brought before her and demanded to know why he was saying this, but Naravahanadatta continued, in a distracted state, to lament, "Ah, my swan lady!"
Gomukha then explained to the princess that the prince was, in a former life, a swan who lived on a lotus lake near the shore of a sea, in a sandalwood tree with his mate. And it happened that their offspring were swept away by a wave, and that his mate threw herself into the sea in sorrow. And that he, grieved and disgusted with his bird-nature, asked Siva that he might be a prince in a future life who remembered his former birth, and that his swan wife would again be his wife in that future life. Discovering that Karpurika was indeed born again and in this dty, he came through a hundred 179 difficulties to find her. Hearing this beautiful lie, Karpurika fell in love with Naravahanadatta and they were married. After the festivities they returned to his home. Now, Naravahanadatta continued to have adventures and to fall in love and gain wives. During this stage of his life he was gearing up for the great campaign ahead of him, during which he would gain the "sciences" of the Vidyadharas (the magical powers, including flying and others), actually become a Vidyadhara, and then conquer and achieve dominion over all the kings of the Vidyadharas. Gaining wives was a very important part of this process. He was actually granted some of the Vidyadhara sciences as benefits of marrying Vidyadhari maidens, and he gained powerful allies in his new fathers-in-law and relatives. During a break in one of his adventures, his minister Gomukha told him the story of Suryaprabha, a mortal man who lived long ago, whose career was quite similar to - though ultimately not as overwhelmingly successful as - Naravahanadatta's own.
Suryaprabha Gets Many Wives and Becomes a Vidyadhara Emperor Suryaprabha was extremely handsome and princesses fell in love with him constantly. He gained the first seven of his wives by carrying off such enraptured princesses, one by one, in his flying chariot. This abduction enraged the relatives of these maidens, who reacted in different, though mostly violent, ways. Typically, the king was attacked during the festivities after each successful marriage. Through various campaigns and conciliations, 180
however, Suryaprabha managed to ally these relatives to himself, and all was well. At this point Maya, a very famous and prominent Asura, arrived at the king's palace and proposed to help him gain dominion over the Vidyadharas.47 Siva had already proclaimed, at Suryaprabha's birth, that this should come to pass. But Indra had proclaimed the same thing on behalf of a king called Shrutasharman.48 Suryaprabha accepted an alliance with Maya. Shrutasharman then made the first move against Suryaprabha by stealing all his wives. All of the fathers-in-law and other relatives of the princesses aligned themselves with Suryaprabha against Shrutasharman. They all descended with Maya to the second underworld to gather more forces and prepare for the great war. Maya's world was like a great, beautiful underground city. While there, Suryaprabha discovered that he was, in fact, a son of Maya in a former birth. They all continued down to the third underworld, a beautiful land where King Bali reigns. At this point Suryaprabha began to gain Daitya maidens as wives. Every time he met a new king, that king gave him a daughter. Plenty of maidens fell in. love with Suryaprabha of their own accord as well, and engineered their own marriages to him. In all, both during this gathering of forces and later on, Suryaprabha got a total of 27
47Asuras are the arch-enemies, the worthy foes, of the gods. However, the gods and Asuras do get along in some situations.
48ln Vedic days (circa 4,000 b.c.) Indra was the head god. But Siva, Vishnu, and Brahma have been worshiped as the head trinity for thousands of years at this point. 181
wives. Finally they all returned to the surface of the world to gear up for the battle. Suryaprabha's minister told him a long, battle-eve story. Then the battle occurred, with Indra behind the forces on one side and Siva behind the armies on the other side. The battle proceeded splendidly. Finally, Siva stopped the fight, pleased with the opponents as well as with Suryaprabha, and told Shrutasharman to ask him for any boon - any except that which he promised to Suryaprabha. Shrutasharman asked the god for peace and a compromise. So the two kings divided the territory between them. One became the emperor of the Vidyadharas to the north, the other became the emperor of the Vidyadharas to the south.
Naravahanadatta's Adventures Some time after hearing this story Naravahanadatta was carried up to heaven and appeared before Vishnu himself. Naravahanadatta praised the god eloquently, and Vishnu was pleased with him. He gave the prince as a present four Apsarases.49 If these were to be included in the harem, then Naravahanadatta now had eight wives. Next, back in his father's palace, the ministers told him a series of stories over the course of two out of the eighteen books of the Ocean of Stories. This is the entire Panchatantra. The stories are mostly quite short, deal with far more examples of buffoonery in men and the inherent
49These are beautiful, heavenly flying beings, a lot like Vidyadharas, except they only come in a female version. 182 inferiority of women than do the other tales in the Ocean of Stories. There are also many jatakas, Buddhist fables. An example of a jataka follows.
The Charitable Boar There was once Bodhisattva50 who was incarnated as a boar in one of his lifetimes. This boar was such a friend and benefactor to all creatures that when a starving lion, lioness, and cub found their way to his cave the boar, delighted with the chance to show true hospitality to his guests, beseeched the lions to satiate themselves on his own flesh. The lion began to eat the flesh from the boar's living body. While the lion was eating, the lioness died from starvation, and so the lion and cub went off after eating their fill. The boar's friend, a monkey, came into the cave and found his friend in this condition. The boar told him what had happened and said that his only wish was that the unfortunate lioness would return to life and satisfy her hunger by eating the rest of him. As the boar said this Dharma, the god of justice, appeared. He restored the boar to life and gave him a sage's celestial body as well. Dharma told the sage that he had appeared in the guise of the three lions to test him. As a result of the boar's perfect goodness and altruism, he had now attained the rank of a chief sage. The sage then said that his new rank gave him no pleasure since his friend, the monkey, still wore an animal guise, whereupon Dharma turned the monkey into a sage as well.
50 a being who has achieved the the rank of a Buddhist demi-god. 183
Naravahanadatta's Adventures (continued) During and after hearing the whole Panchatantra Naravahanadatta had more adventures. He acquired a few more wives, bringing his total up to 11 so far.
Naravahanadatta Loses Madanmanchuka Naravahanadatta's days of princehood (which consisted of enjoying himself, learning science of politics through hearing stories from his ministers and gaining wives, and in general getting prepared for his destiny) came to an end when his principal wife Madanmanchuka was abducted by the Vidyadhara Manasavega. Manasavega, we discover, was Naravahanadatta's chief rival. It enraged Manasavega to think that a mere mortal had the gall to declare himself the future emperor of the Vidyadharas, and he and his allies planned to do everything they could to prevent this from happening. Naravahanadatta didn't know at first what has happened to his wife, and he nearly drove himself crazy over it. At one point his minister Gomukha told him the story of another prince, Mrigankadatta, who overcame separation from his beloved and became a king.
Mrigankadatta Loses and Regains All In the process of trying to reach his beloved, Mrigankadatta lost his ten ministers as well when an angry Naga51 confounded them all and scattered 184 them widely across the land. Through a series of adventures Mrigankadatta and the ministers all found one another again. Whenever a lost minister managed to be reunited with Mrigankadatta, everyone of course wanted to know the story of his adventure. One of these ministers explained that when he found himself far away from his prince, utterly unable to imagine how he would ever find him again, he decided to commit suicide. A Rishi52 saw him getting ready to do this and told him to stop it. He said that, with a little fortitude, anything can be gained, and in illustration of this concept he told the minister a story.53
The Vetalapanchavimsati Once there was a king who held audience in his court every day, as kings are supposed to do. Every day for ten years at this audience a patient ascetic presented the king with piece of fruit. Every day the king simply gave the piece of fruit over to his warder, who in turn threw it into one of the many storage rooms in the palace. One day, by accident, the ascetic's gift of a fruit fell from the king's
snake-being.
52 a wise man living as a hermit.
53 The story he tells is, in fact, a vast series of stories which (like the Panchatantra) has been published in many places besides the Ocean of Stories. This series is called the Vetalapanchavimsati, which means The Twenty-five Tales of the Vetala. Vetalas are a race of ghouls or spirits who like to inhabit and animate human corpses. They are also called "Vampires" in some translations. 185
hands and broke open, revealing a jewel inside. When the king had the storage room investigated he found out that a great pile of jewels had collected there over the course of ten years. He asked the ascetic what he would like in return for all this, and the ascetic asked the king to meet him in the cemetery after dark and help him perform a ritual. That night the king arrived as promised and the ascetic told him to go and get a corpse that was hanging from a tree across the cemetery and bring it over to a special area that he is preparing. The king went to the tree, climbed up into it, brought down the corpse, and began to carry it back across the cemetery. But then a Vetala entered the corpse and, supposedly to entertain the king as he carried the corpse along, he told him a story.
The Riddle of Husband and Brother A woman, her husband, and her brother were travelling together and they came across a temple dedicated to the Goddess Durga. The husband entered the temple, and while meditating upon the Asura-destroying Goddess, with her eighteen arms, and terrifying powers, he decided to honor her with the sacrifice of his own head in order to attain salvation. He tied his hair to a chain and, with a sword he found in the temple, he cus off his head. His brother-in-law eventually enter the temple to see what is keeping him, and when he saw his sister's husband lying there decapitated, he was overtaken with the inspiration to do the same. Finally, the woman entered the temple and, seeing her husband and brother in this state, she prepared in her grief to hang herself in order to give up her own life. But the Goddess, 186
pleased with her courage, stops her and told her to place the two heads back on their bodies so that the men could rise up again. In her eagerness the woman accidentally placed her husband's head on her brother's body and vice versa. Reunited and happy, the three continue on with their journey, but the woman was left with the puzzling problem of figuring out which was now her husband and which her brother.
The Vetalapanchavimsati (continued) The Vetala then said to the king, "If you know the answer to this riddle you must say what it is, or else your head will burst into a hundred pieces." The king replied, "Are you just trying to waste my time? This is pretty simple. The man with the head of her husband is her husband, because the intellect, not the body, makes the man." On hearing this the corpse flew back into the tree. The king went cheerfully back again and fetched the corpse. While being carried the corpse told another riddle of paradoxical relationships and causes. Again the king had to answer or else, and when he did, the corpse flew up into the tree. This went on all night. Finally, the corpse told a story that the king couldn't figure out, and so he remained silent. The Vetala, which had been delighted with the king's perseverance all along, then warned him that the ascetic was actually planning to gain power over all the cemetery spirits in order to further some greater, darker plan of his, and he was going to offer the king as a sacrifice in this ritual. With this information the king was able to outwit and kill the ascetic, prevent the enslavement of all the graveyard 187
spirits to the will of the evil ascetic, and achieve enlightenment in the process through the beneficence of Siva.
Mrigankadatta Loses and Regains All (continued) All the ministers are found, and Mrigankadatta is reunited with his beloved.
Naravahanadatta Loses Madanmanchuka (continued) Now, while Naravahanadatta was feeling upset and powerless over the loss of his wife, his enemy Manasavega's sister, Vegavati, was flying around and saw Madanmanchuka imprisoned in the gardens of her brother's grounds. Vegavati took pity on the sorrowing queen and landed and asked her what was wrong. Madanmanchuka told her the story, and in just hearing about Naravahanadatta Vegavati fell in love with him. However, she told the queen she would go to the prince and tell him where to find her. Vegavati found Naravahanadatta all right, but she took Madanmanchuka's form and so tricked the prince into thinking he has found his beloved wife. She also tricked him into marrying her "again." But during the wedding night, after she has fallen asleep, Vegavati reverted to her own form and Naravahanadatta discovered her. Vegavati admited everything, and tells the prince she will help him to conquer her brother and get Madanmanchuka again. Naravahanadatta thus embarked on his campaign. In the process he gained many more Vidyadhari wives. Many of these women were really 188 quite independent and active. A few of them were instrumental to Naravahanadatta's success. For instance, during the initial battle with Manasavega, Naravahanadatta's forces were being beaten. Vegavati picked up the prince and ministers and everyone else with her magical powers and flung them to distant parts of the land just in time to save them. Naravahanadatta's mother-in-law (Vegavati's and Manasavega's mother) was also a very powerful demi-goddess, who watched over the battles and protected Naravahanadatta's forces.
Naravahanadatta Becomes Emperor of the Vidyadharas After a while Naravahanadatta acquired the Vidyadhara sciences and became a Vidyadhara. He bestowed these sciences on his wives and ministers, so they, too, become members of the Vidyadhara race. Naravahanadatta married a total of 28 wives, fought and killed Manasavega, regained Madanmanchuka, conquered and gained the loyalty of the Vidyadhara kings, and became emperor over all the Vidyadharas. APPENDIX A METHODOLOGICAL TOOL
This Appendix presents a description of the methodological tool I developed to assist me in the analysis of the Katha Sarit Sagara. This is a computerized tool and uses software called HyperCard for the extraction and organization of information from the Katha Sarit Sagara. The theoretical approach to reading the Katha Sarit Sagara that guided the design of this indexing tool was developed through exploring structure and meaning in the Katha Sarit Sagara and in the more widely known classical Indian epic, the Mahabharata. This tool could probably be used to study other Indian narratives as well.
Hypertext The Katha Sarit Sagara is not a simple linear text. It is a set of texts, a collection of components that intersect one another and, through their intersection and combination, allow an enormous range of meanings to become available. It can be usefully described as a "hypertext". I am defining "hypertext" to refer to a work that can be handled as components, as a collection of individual pieces that can be combined and rearranged in different ways. This is essentially the idea behind the system used to write papers using 3x5 index cards and a lot of floor space. An individual using this system puts various pieces of information on cards,
189 190
organizes and reorganizes them into sets of stacks, adds and deletes cards as necessary, and continues to shuffle and arrange until the organization of the report emerges. Once a report is transferred from index cards onto pages of paper it can no longer be thought of as a collection of possible combinations and connections. It stops being multi-dimensional and becomes a linear text. However, some texts, like the Katha Sarit Sagara. manage to preserve or convey multi-dimensional attributes. These works are hypertexts. I'd like to add that hypertext or hypertextual components need not be confined to, or even include, written text. A hypertext could be narrated or performed for example, or include objects, sounds, or sequences of events. I have found that hypertextual features in Indian literature are purposeful narrative elements, not troublesome or irrelevant aberrations, as scholars have tended to think. Since these structural features are so central to Indian literature it is important to look at structural as well as textual information in the process of studying an Indian narrative such as the Katha Sarit Sagara. Undertaking this task called for a special methodological tool, particularly considering that the length of the Katha Sarit Sagara is approximately 2,500 pages in English. For this task I selected appropriate computer hardware and software. HyperCard, the program I used to develop the tool, is discussed below. The indexing tool itself is described in the section that follows that one. My description of the indexing tool includes figures that show what the tool looks like when it is being used and more fully illustrate some of the features introduced in the section on HyperCard. 191
Description of Computer Hardware and Software HyperCard is a software application that runs on Macintosh computers. It is a programming environment that individuals can use to design their own custom systems or applications for managing information. In a sense, it is an electronic version of a set of paper index cards. HyperCard lends itself well to the task of indexing a hypertext. The basic unit of HyperCard is the "card," and sets of cards are organized into “stacks." Many different kinds of information can be stored on these cards, including text, pictures, numbers, and sounds, making them more versatile than ordinary index cards. HyperCard has several functional components or objects in addition to cards, including “buttons" and "fields." Macintosh computers, and applications like HyperCard, are graphics-oriented. Buttons on a HyperCard card look and function like telephone keys or elevator buttons — when you push one, something happens. Fields are blank areas in which text can be placed. Buttons are often used to connect things together. Fields are usually used to hold information. The last major structure in HyperCard I want to discuss is the "handler." This is a set of instructions with a name attached to it. When the name is invoked, the instructions are carried out. The person designing a HyperCard tool can write handlers to do many different kinds of tasks. These handlers can be associated with buttons. Pressing particular buttons will then activate the appropriate handlers. For example, fixed connections between cards can be established by 192
putting buttons on cards and instructing the buttons to show a particular card or stack when pressed. A handler could be written that allows the user to browse through sets of cards in a selective fashion — looking only at cards with fields that contain information on "Passionate Princesses/' for example.
Indexing Tool — Background The purpose of the tool I developed was to assist me in the organization of information from the Katha Sarit Sagara and facilitate the use and analysis of this information. I began by defining two major ways of organizing narrative information: the "incident" and the "frame." An incident in the Katha Sarit Sagara starts with the beginning (or resumption) of a narration. It ends with either the end of that narration or the beginning of a new narration. For example, the Katha Sarit Sagara begins with the god Siva engaging in pillow talk with his wife Parvati atop the Himalaya Mountains — the Hindu equivalent of Mount Olympus. Siva then proceeds to tell her a (rather common) story about one of his adventures, a story that shows off his accomplishments. After hearing this, Parvati becomes annoyed and tells Siva that she’s not very impressed. He mollifies her by promising to tell her a wonderful tale, one that only she would hear. This is the history of the Vidyadharas, one of the main stories in the Katha Sarit Sagara and one that the readers, too, will eventually get to hear. The first incident, then, begins with Siva talking to Parvati and ends with Siva beginning the story about his accomplishments. The second incident is the story that Siva tells about his accomplishments. The third 193 incident begins with Parvati getting angry, and ends with Siva starting the story of the Vidyadharas. The fourth incident is the story of the Vidyadharas — and so on. A frame is made up of one or more incident, and consists of things that happen to characters who occupy a continuous stretch of space and time. One frame is comprised of the things that pass among Siva, Parvati, and other members of their court in the Himalayas. It consists, so far, of Incident 1, Siva and Parvati talking, and Incident 3, Parvati getting angry and being promised another story. Another frame consists of the Incident 2, the story of Siva’s accomplishments. The other frame we've encountered thus far consists of Incident 4, the story of the Vidyadharas as told in one fell swoop by Siva. This last frame, the History of the Vidyadharas we could call it, has only one incident in it at this early point, but since it is a main story it will later contain hundreds of incidents. Thus one of the requirements of the indexing tool is that it can be used to start frames and add incidents to frames as one goes along reading the book. To be on the safe side, one should also be able to go back later to add and delete incidents and frames as necessary. The other two main design concerns were: what questions are there to be answered, and what information should be collected in order to answer them? The questions I was interested in were the following:
1) What happens in each incident 2) What the chronological is order of the incidents 3) What the narrative order is of the incidents 194
4) Who narrates the stories and who acts in the stories 5) What the relationships are among narrators, actors, and incidents 6) What motifs or patterns occur within and among frames
To address these questions the minimum information to be collected for each incident was:
1) What happens 2) Who is involved 3) Where the incident is located relative to other incidents and frames
This information could be collected fairly expeditiously with the indexing tool. Some of the information was typed in by hand. Some was generated automatically. The technical description below will outline the basic structures and features of the application itself.
Indexing Tool — Design There are two main cards in the indexing tool. One is the Master Card. This card functions as an expandable, re-organizable Table of Contents. It also provides the means of entry into each frame. Each frame can be thought of as a Rolodex file, with each Incident Card a file card placed in order among other cards in its proper Rolodex. The Master Card is then like the thumbnail guide to this collection of Rolodexes. 195
MasterCard ^ ^ 7 g o fra m e 1 Opening Invocation R5 1 2 Contents 3 Siva Tells Story to Parvati 4 In the Mortal World RuleBook 5 Pushpadanta's Story 6 The Brahman Cousins 7 Stupid Brahman 8 Gunadyha's Story o 9 King Sahasranika 10 Heavenly Existence ______
M anual ^ & V M aikB ook GoUaik A rt Pad M m u a llH ite
Figure 12. M aster C ard 196
Figure 12 above shows the Master Card. Its main features are the large field in the center of the card and the line of buttons (represented as interestingly patterned shapes) along the left side of the field. The field is a "scrolling" field. It is something like a roll of music for a player piano, in that while only a certain number of lines are visible at a given time, there can be as many lines as are needed both above and below the visible part of the field. The purpose of this particular field is to hold the names of the frames in chronological order. To enter a new frame, one would think up a frame name and then type it onto the appropriate line. If the new frame takes place, chronologically, between two previous frames, then the user would simply insert the new frame name between those two previously entered lines. To go to a frame (whether a newly started or an old one), the user presses the particular "go frame" button to the left of the desired frame name. There are six additional buttons on the Master Card. These perform useful but non-essential activities, and will be described a little later. Figure 13 shows the regular view of the Incident Card. This view of the card shows four fields, five buttons, and a space for graphics. The top field will automatically contain the name of the frame. Only three pieces of information need to be typed in by the user. The first bit is the volume, page, and paragraph numbers from whence the incident comes. The second is "What Happened." Since this is a scrolling field, as much information as needed can be typed here. Thirdly, a list of who is in the incident is typed into the scrolling "Who's In It" field. 197
Gunadhya's Story
AA dd J3 J LZ '- aiu - J >1
In Supratishthita city a Brahman named d t n m k Somasarman had two sons, Vatsa and Gulma, and a HIP daughter, Srutartha. The parents died. Suddenly II jijiij one day the sister became pregnant. Since the Hi brothers were entertaining evil suspicions of one Ijljj! another Srutartha said "This is what happened. §
V«V«J
Somasarman s M asterC ard Vatsa Gulman Srutartha O :::::::: S h o w
Figure 13. Normal View of an Incident Card 198
The graphics area is simply a place to put a picture that will be unique to a given frame. This makes it easier to see where one is when using the indexing tool. Back on the Master Card is an "Art Pad" button that will take the user to a kind of electronic sketch pad, where graphics can be drawn, cut out, and brought back to the Incident Card to be pasted into the graphics area. To the right of the "Volume, Page, Paragraph" field are three buttons: one that says "Add Card" and, below it, a left and right arrow. When the user enters a given frame she is shown the incident that stands at the chronological beginning of the frame. Since a frame is like a Rolodex, one can browse through the existing cards to find the correct spot for inserting the new incident. This is done with the right and left arrows. When the correct chronological spot is found, the user will press the "Add Card" button. This will insert a blank Incident Card in that spot. At the same time, behind the scenes, a number of record-keeping activities take place. These will be discussed in a moment. The "Master Card" button will take the user back to the Master Card. Finally, when the "Show" button is pressed the Incident Card will look like the top card in Figure 14. Figure 14 shows a "cutaway view" of the card. Pressing the Show button reveals two buttons and two fields that are always on the card, but that are kept hidden until needed. (Note: when the hidden buttons are revealed they can be pressed. However, when they are hidden they are inactive, so there is no danger of accidentally setting an unwanted action in motion.) 199
3 A d d C ard iiiiiiffi Parvati says: A Yaksha named Kanabhuti was made O into a Pisacha by the curse of Kuvera, and lives in the Vindhaya forest. Pushpadanta sees him, remembers his own origin, and tells him the story 1 ! of the Vidyadharas. Then Push is free from his M >>>>>>>>>>>'♦>>!<♦!♦>:A t.W .V .t.tA W .V .t.f.t curse. Next, Kanabhuti finds and tells Malyavan s
Kanabhuti M asterC ard Kuvera Pushpadanta Malyavan S h o w
Figure 14. Revealed View of an Incident Card 200
The two hidden fields are the "Came From" and the "Goes To" fields. Each Incident Card has a unique card number (automatically generated by HyperCard). The Came From and Goes To fields contain the card numbers for the incidents immediately preceding and following the current incident, in narrative (not chronological) order. These numbers are put into the fields when the "Add Card" button is pressed. In practical terms, these fields simply keep track of where a given incident is in the entire scheme of cards. The two hidden left and right arrows allow the user to browse through the cards — not through the frame Rolodex this time, but from a card in one Rolodex to another card in another Rolodex. The order in which you will browse will be the order in which the cards were entered, which is also the order in which they are narrated in the text itself. Back on the Master Card, there are three last buttons. The "Rule Book" button will take the user to a side stack of cards. On these cards are written simple instructions for using the indexing tool, including rules to be followed when deciding how to divide passages of the Katha Sarit Sagara into incidents, determining which frame an incident belongs to, and so forth. Finally, the last incident entered during a given session could be in any frame. It would therefore be useful to have a way to mark one's place. This can be done with the "Mark Book" button on the Master Card. When ending for the day, the user would go to the Master Card and press the Mark Book button. Then, when beginning a new session, she would press the "Go Mark" button, which will then take her to the last Incident Card entered from the previous session.