Chapter I.
May the dark neck of Śiva, which the god of love has, so to speak, surrounded with nooses in the form of the alluring looks of Párvatí reclining on his bosom, assign to you prosperity.
May that victor of obstacles,[1] who after sweeping away the stars with his trunk in the delirious joy of the evening dance, seems to create others with the spray issuing from his hissing[2] mouth, protect you.
After worshipping the goddess of Speech, the lamp that illuminates countless objects,[3] I compose this collection which contains the pith of the Vṛíhat-Kathá.
The first book in my collection is called Kathápíṭha, then comes Kathámukha, then the third book named Lávánaka, then follows Naraváhanadattajanana, and then the book called Chaturdáriká, and then Madanamanchuká, then the seventh book named Ratnaprabhá, and then the eighth book named Súryaprabhá, then Alankáravatí, then Śaktiyaśas, and then the eleventh book called Velá, then comes Śaśánkavatí, and then Madirávatí, then comes the book called Pancha followed by Mahábhisheka, and then Suratamanjarí, then Padmávatí, and then will follow the eighteenth book Vishamaśíla.
This book is precisely on the model of that from which it is taken, there is not even the slightest deviation, only such language is selected as tends to abridge the prolixity of the work; the observance of propriety and natural connexion, and the joining together of the portions of the poem so as not to interfere with the spirit of the stories, are as far as possible kept in view: I have not made this attempt through desire of a reputation for ingenuity, but in order to facilitate the recollection of a multitude of various tales.
There is a mountain celebrated under the name of Himavat, haunted by Kinnaras, Gandharvas, and Vidyádharas, a very monarch of mighty hills, whose glory has attained such an eminence among mountains that Bhavání the mother of the three worlds deigned to become his daughter; the northernmost summit thereof is a great peak named Kailása, which towers many thousand yojanas in the air,[4] and as it were, laughs forth with its snowy gleams this boast—“Mount Mandara[5] did not become white as mortar even when the ocean was churned with it, but I have become such without an effort.” There dwells Maheśvara the beloved of Párvatí, the chief of things animate and inanimate, attended upon by Gaṇas, Vidyádharas and Siddhas. In the upstanding yellow tufts of his matted hair, the new moon enjoys the delight of touching the eastern mountain yellow in the evening twilight. When he drove his trident into the heart of Andhaka, the king of the Asuras, though he was only one, the dart which that monarch had infixed in the heart of the three worlds was, strange to say, extracted. The image of his toe-nails being reflected in the crest-jewels of the gods and Asuras made them seem as if they had been presented with half moons by his favour.[6] Once on a time that lord, the husband of Párvatí, was gratified with praises by his wife, having gained confidence as she sat in secret with him; the moon-crested one attentive to her praise and delighted, placed her on his lap, and said, “What can I do to please thee?” Then the daughter of the mountain spake—“My lord, if thou art satisfied with me, then tell me some delightful story that is quite new.” And Śiva said to her, “What can there be in the world, my beloved, present, past, or future that thou dost not know?” Then that goddess, beloved of Śiva, importuned him eagerly because she was proud in soul on account of his affection.
Then Śiva wishing to flatter her, began by telling her a very short story, referring to her own divine power.
“Once on a time[7] Brahmá and Náráyaṇa roaming through the world in order to behold me, came to the foot of Himavat. Then they beheld there in front of them a great flame-linga;[8] in order to discover the end of it, one of them went up, and the other down; and when they could not find the end of it, they proceeded to propitiate me by means of austerities: and I appeared to them and bade them ask for some boon: hearing that Brahmá asked me to become his son; on that account he has ceased to be worthy of worship, disgraced by his overweening presumption.
“Then that god Náráyaṇa craved a boon of me, saying—Oh revered one, may I become devoted to thy service! Then he became incarnate, and was born as mine in thy form; for thou art the same as Náráyaṇa, the power of me all-powerful.
“Moreover thou wast my wife in a former birth.” When Śiva had thus spoken, Párvatí asked, “How can I have been thy wife in a former birth?” Then Śiva answered her. “Long ago to the Prajápati Daksha were born many daughters, and amongst them thou, O goddess! He gave thee in marriage to me, and the others to Dharma and the rest of the gods. Once on a time he invited all his sons-in-law to a sacrifice. But I alone was not included in the invitation; thereupon thou didst ask him to tell thee why thy husband was not invited. Then he uttered a speech which pierced thy ears like a poisoned needle; ‘Thy husband wears a necklace of skulls; how can he be invited to a sacrifice?’
“And then thou, my beloved, didst in anger abandon thy body, exclaiming,—‘This father of mine is a villain; what profit have I then in this carcase sprung from him?’
“And thereupon in wrath I destroyed that sacrifice of Daksha. Then thou wast born as the daughter of the mount of snow, as the moon’s digit springs from the sea. Then recall how I came to the Himálaya in order to perform austerities; and thy father ordered thee to do me service as his guest: and there the god of love who had been sent by the gods in order that they might obtain from me a son to oppose Táraka, was consumed,[9] when endeavouring to pierce me, having obtained a favourable opportunity. Then I was purchased by thee,[10] the enduring one, with severe austerities, and I accepted this proposal of thine, my beloved, in order that I might add this merit to my stock.[11] Thus it is clear that thou wast my wife in a former birth. What else shall I tell thee?” Thus Śiva spake, and when he had ceased, the goddess transported with wrath, exclaimed,—“Thou art a deceiver; thou wilt not tell me a pleasing tale even though I ask thee: Do I not know that thou worshippest Sandhyá, and bearest Gangá on thy head?” Hearing that, Śiva proceeded to conciliate her and promised to tell her a wonderful tale: then she dismissed her anger. She herself gave the order that no one was to enter where they were; Nandin[12] thereupon kept the door, and Śiva began to speak.
“The gods are supremely blessed, men are ever miserable, the actions of demigods are exceedingly charming, therefore I now proceed to relate to thee the history of the Vidyádharas.” While Śiva was thus speaking to his consort, there arrived a favourite dependant of Śiva’s, Pushpadanta, best of Gaṇas,[13] and his entrance was forbidden by Nandin who was guarding the door. Curious to know why even he had been forbidden to enter at that time without any apparent reason, Pushpadanta immediately entered, making use of his magic power attained by devotion to prevent his being seen, and when he had thus entered, he heard all the extraordinary and wonderful adventures of the seven Vidyádharas being narrated by the trident-bearing god, and having heard them he in turn went and narrated them to his wife Jayá; for who can hide wealth or a secret from women? Jayá the doorkeeper being filled with wonder went and recited it in the presence of Párvatí. How can women be expected to restrain their speech? And then the daughter of the mountain flew into a passion, and said to her husband, “Thou didst not tell me any extraordinary tale, for Jayá knows it also.” Then the lord of Umá, perceiving the truth by profound meditation, thus spake: “Pushpadanta employing the magic power of devotion entered in where we were, and thus managed to hear it. He narrated it to Jayá; no one else knows it, my beloved.”
Having heard this, the goddess exceedingly enraged caused Pushpadanta to be summoned, and cursed him, as he stood trembling before her, saying, “Become a mortal thou disobedient servant.”[14] She cursed also the Gaṇa Mályaván who presumed to intercede on his behalf. Then the two fell at her feet together with Jayá and entreated her to say when the curse would end, and the wife of Śiva slowly uttered this speech—“A Yaksha named Supratíka who has been made a Piśácha by the curse of Kuvera is residing in the Vindhya forest under the name of Káṇabhúti. When thou shalt see him and, calling to mind thy origin, tell him this tale, then, Pushpadanta, thou shalt be released from this curse. And when Mályaván shall hear this tale from Káṇabhúti, then Káṇabhúti shall be released, and thou, Mályaván, when thou hast published it abroad, shalt be free also.” Having thus spoken the daughter of the mountain ceased, and immediately those Gaṇas disappeared instantaneously like flashes of lightning. Then it came to pass in the course of time that Gaurí full of pity asked Śiva, “My lord, where on the earth have those excellent Pramathas[15] whom I cursed, been born?” And the moon-diademed god answered: “My beloved, Pushpadanta has been born under the name of Vararuchi in that great city which is called Kauśámbí.[16] Moreover Mályaván also has been born in the splendid city called Supratishṭhita under the name of Guṇáḍhya. This, O goddess, is what has befallen them.” Having given her this information with grief caused by recalling to mind the degradation of the servants that had always been obedient to him, that lord continued to dwell with his beloved in pleasure-arbours on the slopes of mount Kailása, which were made of the branches of the Kalpa tree.[17]
[1] Dr. Brockhaus explains this of Gaṇeśa, he is probably associated with Śiva in the dance. So the poet invokes two gods, Śiva and Gaṇeśa, and one goddess Sarasvatí, the goddess of speech and learning.
[2] Śítkára a sound made by drawing in the breath, expressive of pleasure.
[3] There is a double meaning: padártha also means words and their meanings.
[4] Possibly the meaning is that the mountain covers many thousand yojanas.
[5] This mountain served the gods and Asuras as a churning stick at the churning of the ocean for the recovery of the Amṛita and fourteen other precious things lost during the deluge.
[6] Śiva himself wears a moon’s crescent.
[7] The Sanskrit word Asti meaning “thus it is” is a common introduction to a tale.
[8] The linga or phallus is a favourite emblem of Śiva. Flame is one of his eight tanus or forms.
[9] He was burnt up by the fire of Śiva’s eye.
[10] Compare Kumára Sambhava Sarga V, line 86.
[11] Reading tatsanchayáya as one word. Dr. Brockhaus omits the line. Professor E. B. Cowell would read priyam for priye.
[12] One of Śiva’s favourite attendants.
[13] Attendants of Śiva, presided over by Gaṇeśa.
[14] For the ativiníta of Dr. Brockhaus’s text I read aviníta.
[15] Pramatha, an attendant on Śiva.
[16] Kauśámbí succeeded Hastinápur as the capital of the emperors of India. Its precise site has not been ascertained, but it was probably somewhere in the Doabá, or at any rate not far from the west bank of the Yamuná, as it bordered upon Magadha and was not far from the Vindhya hills. It is said that there are ruins at Karáli or Karári about 14 miles from Allahábád on the western road, which may indicate the site of Kauśámbí. It is possible also that the mounds of rubbish about Karrah may conceal some vestiges of the ancient capital—a circumstance rendered more probable by the inscription found there, which specifies Kaṭa as comprised within Kauśámba maṇḍala or the district of Kauśámbí. [Note in Wilson’s Essays, p. 163.] See note on page [281].
[17] A tree of Indra’s Paradise that grants all desires.