Chapter LXIX.
Then Naraváhanadatta, having obtained that new bride Lalitalochaná, sported with her on that very Malaya mountain, delightful on account of the first burst of spring, in various forest purlieus adorned with flowering trees.
And in one grove his beloved, in the course of gathering flowers, disappeared out of his sight into a dense thicket, and while he was wandering on, he saw a great tank with clear water, that, on account of the flowers fallen from the trees on its bank, resembled the heaven studded with stars.[1]
And he thought—“I will wait until my beloved, who is gathering flowers, returns to me; and in the meanwhile I will bathe in this lake and rest for a little upon its bank.” So he bathed and worshipped the gods, and then he sat down on a slab of rock in the shade of a sandal-wood tree. While sitting there he thought of his beloved Madanamanchuká, who was so far off, beholding the gait of the female swans that rivalled hers, and hearing the singing of the female cuckoos in the mango-creepers that equalled hers, and seeing the eyes of the does that recalled hers to his mind. And as soon as he recollected her, the fire of love sprang up in his breast, and tortured him so that he fainted; and at that moment a glorious hermit came there to bathe, whose name was Piśangajaṭa. He, seeing the prince in such a state, sprinkled him with sandal-water, refreshing as the touch of his beloved. Then he recovered consciousness and bowed before the hermit. But the hermit said to him, “My son, in order that you may obtain your wish, acquire endurance. For by means of that quality every thing is acquired, and in order that you may understand this, come to my hermitage and hear the story of Mṛigánkadatta, if you have not already heard it. When the hermit had said this, he bathed and took the prince to his hermitage, and quickly performed his daily prayers. And Piśangajaṭa entertained him there with fruits, and ate fruits himself, and then he began to tell him this tale of Mṛigánkadatta.
Story of Mṛigánkadatta.[2]
There is a city of the name of Ayodhyá famous in the three worlds. In it there lived in old time a king named Amaradatta. He was of resplendent brightness, and he had a wife named Surataprabhá, who was as closely knit to him as the oblation to the fire.[3] By her there was born to him a son named Mṛigánkadatta, who was adored for his ten million virtues, as his bow was bent by the string reaching the notches.[4]
And that young prince had ten ministers of his own, Prachaṇḍaśakti and Sthúlabáhu, and Vikramakeśarin, Dṛiḍhamushṭi, and Meghabala and Bhímaparákrama, and Vimalabuddhi, and Vyághrasena and Guṇákara, and the tenth Vichitrakatha. They were all of good birth, young, brave, and wise, and devoted to their master’s interests. And Mṛigánkadatta led a happy life with them in his father’s house, but he did not obtain a suitable wife.
And one day his minister Bhímaparákrama said to him in secret,—“Hear, prince, what happened to me in the night. I went to sleep last night on the roof of the palace, and I saw in a dream a lion, with claws terrible as the thunderbolt, rushing upon me. I rose up, sword in hand, and then the lion began to flee, and I pursued him at my utmost speed. He crossed a river, and stuck out his long tongue[5] at me, and I cut it off with my sword. And I made use of it to cross that river, for it was as broad as a bridge. And thereupon the lion became a deformed giant. I asked him who he was and the giant said, ‘I am a Vetála, and I am delighted with your courage, my brave fellow.’ Then I said to him, ‘If this is the case, then tell me who is to be the wife of my master Mṛigánkadatta.’ When I said this to the Vetála, he answered,—‘There is in Ujjayiní a king named Karmasena. He has a daughter, who in beauty surpasses the Apsarases, being, as it were, the receptacle of the Creator’s handiwork in the form of loveliness. Her name is Śaśánkavatí, and she shall be his wife, and by gaining her, he shall become king of the whole earth.’ When the Vetála had said this, he disappeared, and I came home; this is what happened to me in the night, my sovereign.”
When Mṛigánkadatta heard this from Bhímaparákrama, he summoned all his ministers, and had it told to them, and then he said, “Hear, what I too saw in a dream; I thought we all entered a certain wood; and in it, being thirsty with travelling, we reached with difficulty some water; and when we wished to drink it, five armed men rose up and tried to prevent us. We killed them, and then in the torments of our thirst we again turned to drink the water, but lo! neither the men nor the water were to be seen. Then we were in a miserable state; but on a sudden we saw the god Śiva come there, mounted on his bull, resplendent with the moon on his forehead; we bent before him in prayer and he dropped from his right eye a tear-drop on the ground. That became a sea, and I drew from it a splendid pearl-necklace and fastened it round my neck. And I drank up that sea in a human skull stained with blood. And immediately I awoke, and lo! the night was at an end.”
When Mṛigánkadatta had described this wonderful sight that he had seen in his dream, the other ministers rejoiced, but Vimalabuddhi said; “You are fortunate, prince, in that Śiva has shewn you this favour. As you obtained the necklace and drank up the sea, you shall without fail obtain Śaśánkavatí and rule the whole earth. But the rest of the dream indicates some slight amount of misfortune.” When Vimalabuddhi had said this, Mṛigánkadatta again said to his ministers, “Although the fulfilment of my dream will no doubt come to pass in the way which my friend Bhímaparákrama heard predicted by the Vetála, still I must win from that Karmasena, who confides in his army and his forts, his daughter Śaśánkavatí by force of policy. And the force of policy is the best instrument in all undertakings. Now listen, I will tell you a story to prove this.”