The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story

In Ayodhyá there lived of old time a king named Vírabáhu, who always protected his subjects as if they were his own children. And one day the citizens of his capital came to him and said, “King, some thieves plunder this city every night, and though we keep awake for the purpose, we cannot detect them.” When the king heard that, he placed scouts in the city at night to keep watch. But they did not catch the thieves and the mischief did not abate. Accordingly the king went out himself at night to investigate the matter.

And as he was wandering about in every direction, alone, sword in hand, he saw a man going along on the top of the rampart; he seemed to tread lightly out of fear; his eyes rolled rapidly like those of a crow; and he looked round like a lion, frequently turning his neck. He was rendered visible by the steel-gleams that flashed from his naked sword, which seemed like binding ropes sent forth to steal those jewels which men call stars.18 And the king said to himself; “I am quite certain that this man is a thief; no doubt he sallies out alone and plunders this my city.”

Having come to this conclusion, the wily monarch went up to the thief; and the thief said to him with some trepidation, “Who are you, Sir?” Then the king said to him, “I am a desperate robber, whose many vices make him hard to keep;19 tell me in turn, who you are.” The thief answered, “I am a robber, that goes out to plunder alone; and I have great wealth; so come to my house: I will satisfy your longing for riches.” When the thief made him this promise, the king said, “So be it,” and went with him to his dwelling, which was in an underground excavation. It was inhabited by beautiful women, it gleamed with many jewels, it was full of ever new delights, and seemed like the city of the snakes.20 Then the thief went into the inner chamber of his dwelling, and the king remained in the outer room; and while he was there, a female servant, compassionating him, came and said to him, “What kind of place have you entered? Leave it at once, for this man is a treacherous assassin, and as he goes on his expeditions alone, will be sure to murder you, to prevent his secrets being divulged.”21 When the king heard that, he went out at once, and quickly repaired to his palace; and summoning his commander-in-chief, returned with his troops. And he came and surrounded the thief’s dwelling, and made the bravest men enter it, and so brought the thief back a prisoner, and carried off all his wealth.

When the night had come to an end, the king ordered his execution; and he was led off to the place of execution through the middle of the market. And as he was being led along through that part of the town, a merchant’s daughter saw him, and fell in love with him at first sight, and she immediately said to her father, “Know that if this man, who is being led off to execution preceded by the drum of death, does not become my husband, I shall die myself.”

Then her father, seeing that she could not be dissuaded from her resolution, went and tried to induce the king to spare that thief’s life by offering ten millions of coins. But the king, instead of sparing the thief’s life, ordered him to be immediately impaled,22 and was very angry with the merchant. Then the merchant’s daughter, whose name was Vámadattá, took the corpse of that robber, and out of love for him entered the fire with it.

“So, you see, creatures are completely dependent upon connexions in previous births, and this being the case, who can avoid a destiny that is fated to him, and who can prevent such a destiny’s befalling anybody? Therefore, king, it is clear that this Suratamanjarí is some excellent being that was the wife of your son Avantivardhana in a previous birth, and is therefore destined to be his wife again; otherwise how could such a high-born prince have formed such an attachment for her, a woman of the Mátanga caste? So let this Mátanga, her father Utpalahasta, be asked to give the prince his daughter; and let us see what he says.”

When I had said this to king Pálaka, he at once sent messengers to Utpalahasta to ask for his daughter. And the Mátanga, when entreated by those messengers to give her in marriage, answered them, “I approve of this alliance, but I must give my daughter Suratamanjarí to the man who makes eighteen thousand of the Bráhmans, that dwell in this city, eat in my house.” When the messengers heard this speech of the Mátanga’s, that contained a solemn promise, they went back and reported it faithfully to king Pálaka.

Thinking that there was some reason for this,23 the king called together all the Bráhmans in the city of Ujjayiní, and telling them the whole story, said to them, “So you must eat here in the house of the Mátanga Utpalahasta, eighteen thousand of you; I will not have it otherwise.” When the Bráhmans had been thus commanded by the king, being at the same time afraid of touching the food of a Chaṇḍála, and therefore at a loss what to do, they went to the shrine of Mahákála and performed self-torture. Then the god Śiva, who was present there in the form of Mahákála, commanded those Bráhmans in a dream, saying, “Eat food here in the house of the Mátanga Utpalahasta, for he is a Vidyádhara; neither he nor his family are Chaṇḍálas.” Then those Bráhmans rose up and went to the king, and told him the dream, and went on to say, “So let this Utpalahasta cook pure food for us in some place outside the quarter of the Chaṇḍálas, and then we will eat it at his hands.” When the king heard this, he had another house made for Utpalahasta, and being highly delighted, he had food cooked for him there by pure cooks: and then eighteen thousand Bráhmans ate there, while Utpalahasta stood in front of them, bathed, and clothed in a pure garment.

And after they had eaten, Utpalahasta came to king Pálaka, in the presence of his subjects, and bowing before him, said to him, “There was an influential prince of the Vidyádharas, named Gaurímuṇḍa; I was a dependent of his, named Matangadeva; and when, king, that daughter of mine Suratamanjarí had been born, Gaurímuṇḍa secretly said to me, ‘The gods assert that this son of the king of Vatsa, who is called Naraváhanadatta, is to be our emperor: so go quickly, and kill that foe of ours by means of your magic power, before be has attained the dignity of emperor.’

“When the wicked Gaurímuṇḍa had sent me on this errand, I went to execute it, and while going along through the air, I saw Śiva in front of me. The god, being displeased, made an angry roar, and immediately pronounced on me this curse, ‘How is it, villain, that thou dost plot evil against a noble-minded man? So go, wicked one, and fall with this same body of thine into the midst of the Chaṇḍálas in Ujjayiní, together with thy wife and daughter. And when some one shall make eighteen thousand of the Bráhmans, that dwell in that city, eat in thy house by way of a gift to purchase thy daughter; then thy curse shall come to an end, and thou must marry thy daughter to the man who bestows on thee that gift.’

“When Śiva had said this, he disappeared, and I, that very Matangadeva, assuming the name of Utpalahasta, fell among men of the lowest caste, but I do not mix with them. However, my curse is now at an end, owing to the favour of your son, so I give him my daughter Suratamanjarí. And now I will go to my own dwelling-place among the Vidyádharas, in order to pay my respects to the emperor Naraváhanadatta.” When Matangadeva had said this, he solemnly gave the prince his daughter, and flying up into the air with his wife, repaired, king, to thy feet.

“And king Pálaka, having thus ascertained the truth, celebrated with great delight the marriage of Suratamanjarí and his son. And his son Avantivardhana, having obtained that Vidyádharí for a wife, felt himself fortunate in having gained more than he had ever hoped for.

“Now, one day, that prince went to sleep on the top of the palace with her and at the end of the night he woke up, and suddenly discovered that his beloved was nowhere to be seen. He looked for her, but could not find her anywhere, and then he lamented, and was so much afflicted that his father the king came, and was exceedingly discomposed. We all, being assembled there at that time, said, ‘This city is well-guarded, no stranger could enter it during the night; no doubt she must have been carried off by some evilly disposed wanderer of the air;’ and even while we were saying that, your servant the Vidyádhara Dhúmaśikha descended from the sky. He brought here this prince Avantivardhana, and king Pálaka also was asked to part with me, in order that I might state the facts of the case. Here too is Suratamanjarí with her father, and the facts concerning her are such as I have said: your Majesty is the best judge of what ought to be done now.”

When Bharataroha the minister of Pálaka had told this tale, he stopped speaking; and the assessors put this question to Matangadeva in the presence of Naraváhanadatta, “Tell us, to whom did you give this daughter of yours Suratamanjarí?” He answered, “I gave her to Avantivardhana.” Then they put this question to Ityaka, “Now do you tell us why you carried her off?” He answered, “Her mother promised her to me originally.” The assessors said to Ityaka, “While the father is alive, what authority has the mother? Moreover, where is your witness to prove the fact of the mother having promised her to you? So she is with regard to you the wife of another, villain!” When Ityaka was thus put to silence by the assessors, the emperor Naraváhanadatta, being angry with him, ordered his immediate execution on the ground of his misconduct. But the good hermits, with Kaśyapa at their head, came and entreated him, saying, “Forgive now this one fault of his: for he is the son of Madanavega, and therefore your brother-in-law.” So the king was at last induced to spare his life, and let him off with a severe reprimand.