Story of king Ratnádhipati and the white elephant Śvetaraśmi.
There is here a great island in the midst of the sea, named Ratnakúṭa. In it there lived in old times a king of great courage, a devoted worshipper of Vishṇu, rightly named Ratnádhipati.[1] That king, in order to obtain the conquest of the earth, and all kings’ daughters as his wives, went through a severe penance, to propitiate Vishṇu. The adorable one, pleased with his penance, appeared in bodily form, and thus commanded him—“Rise up, king, I am pleased with thee, so I tell thee this—listen! There is in the land of Kalinga a Gandharva, who has become a white elephant by the curse of a hermit, and is known by the name of Śvetaraśmi. On account of the asceticism he performed in a former life, and on account of his devotion to me, that elephant is supernaturally wise, and possesses the power of flying through the sky, and of remembering his former birth. And I have given an order to that great elephant, in accordance with which he will come of himself through the air, and become thy beast of burden. That white elephant thou must mount, as the wielder of the thunderbolt mounts the elephant of the gods,[2] and whatever king thou shalt travel through the air to visit, in fear shall bestow on thee, who art of god-like presence, tribute in the form of a daughter, for I will myself command him to do so in a dream. Thus thou shalt conquer the whole earth, and all zenanas, and thou shalt obtain eighty thousand princesses.” When Vishṇu had said this, he disappeared, and the king broke his fast, and the next day he beheld that elephant, which had come to him through the air. And when the elephant had thus placed himself at the king’s disposal, he mounted him, as he had been bidden to do by Vishṇu, and in this manner he conquered the earth, and carried off the daughters of kings. And then the king dwelt there in Ratnakúṭa with those wives, eighty thousand in number, amusing himself as he pleased. And in order to propitiate Śvetaraśmi, that celestial elephant, he fed every day five hundred Bráhmans.
Now once on a time the king Ratnádhipati mounted that elephant, and, after roaming through the other islands, returned to his own island. And as he was descending from the sky, it came to pass that a bird of the race of Garuḍa struck that excellent elephant with his beak. And the bird fled, when the king struck him with the sharp elephant-hook, but the elephant fell on the ground stunned by the blow of the bird’s beak. The king got off his back, but the elephant, though he recovered his senses, was not able to rise up in spite of the efforts made to raise him, and ceased eating. For five days the elephant remained in the same place, where it had fallen, and the king was grieved and took no food, and prayed as follows: “Oh guardians of the world, teach me some remedy in this difficulty; otherwise I will cut off my own head and offer it to you.” When he had said this, he drew his sword and was preparing to cut off his head, when immediately a bodiless voice thus addressed him from the sky—“O king do nothing rash; if some chaste woman touches this elephant with her hand, it will rise up, but not otherwise.” When the king heard that, he was glad, and summoned his own carefully guarded chief queen, Amṛitalatá. When the elephant did not rise up, though she touched it with her hand, the king had all his other wives summoned. But though they all touched the elephant in succession, he did not rise up; the fact was, not one among them was chaste. Then the king, having beheld all those eighty thousand wives openly humiliated in the presence of men, being himself abashed, summoned all the women of his capital, and made them touch the elephant one after another. And when in spite of it the elephant did not rise up, the king was ashamed, because there was not a single chaste woman in his city.
And in the meanwhile a merchant named Harshagupta, who had arrived from Támraliptí,[3] having heard of that event, came there full of curiosity. And in his train there came a servant of the name of Śílavatí, who was devoted to her husband; when she saw what had taken place, she said to him—“I will touch this elephant with my hand: and if I have not even thought in my mind of any other man than my husband, may it rise up.” No sooner had she said this, than she came up and touched the elephant with her hand, whereupon it rose up in sound health and began to eat.[4] But when the people saw the elephant Śvetaraśmi rise up, they raised a shout and praised Śílavatí, saying—“Such are these chaste women, few and far between, who, like Śiva, are able to create, preserve and destroy this world.” The king Ratnádhipati also was pleased, and congratulated the chaste Śílavatí, and loaded her with innumerable jewels, and he also honoured her master, the merchant Harshagupta, and gave him a house near his own palace. And he determined to avoid all communication with his own wives, and ordered that henceforth they should have nothing but food and raiment.
Then the king, after he had taken his food, sent for the chaste Śílavatí, and said to her at a private interview in the presence of Harshagupta, “Śílavatí, if you have any maiden of your father’s family, give her to me, for I know she will certainly be like you.” When the king said this to her, Śílavatí answered—“I have a sister in Támraliptí named Rájadattá; marry her, O king, if you wish, for she is of distinguished beauty.” When she said this to the king, he consented and said, “So be it,” and having determined on taking this step, he mounted, with Śílavatí and Harshagupta, the elephant Śvetaraśmi, that could fly though the air, and going in person to Támraliptí, entered the house of that merchant Harshagupta. There he asked the astrologers that very day, what would be a favourable time for him to be married to Rájadattá, the sister of Śílavatí. And the astrologers, having enquired under what stars both of them were born, said, “A favourable conjuncture will come for you, O king, in three months from this time. But if you marry Rájadattá in the present position of the constellations, she will without fail prove unchaste.” Though the astrologers gave him this response, the king, being eager for a charming wife, and impatient of dwelling long alone, thus reflected—“Away with scruples! I will marry Rájadattá here this very day. For she is the sister of the blameless Śílavatí and will never prove unchaste. And I will place her in that uninhabited island in the middle of the sea, where there is one empty palace, and in that inaccessible spot I will surround her with a guard of women; so how can she become unchaste, as she can never see men?” Having formed this determination, the king that very day rashly married that Rájadattá, whom Śílavatí bestowed upon him. And after he had married her, and had been received with the customary rites by Harshagupta, he took that wife, and with her and Śílavatí, he mounted Śvetaraśmi, and then in a moment went through the air to the land of Ratnakúṭa, where the people were anxiously expecting him. And he rewarded Śílavatí again so munificently, that she attained all her wishes, having reaped the fruit of her vow of chastity. Then he mounted his new wife Rájadattá on that same air-travelling elephant Śvetaraśmi, and conveyed her carefully, and placed her in the empty palace in the island in the midst of the sea, inaccessible to man, with a retinue of women only. And whatever article she required, he conveyed there through the air on that elephant, so great was his distrust. And being devotedly attached to her, he always spent the night there, but came to Ratnakúṭa in the day to transact his regal duties. Now one morning the king, in order to counteract an inauspicious dream, indulged with that Rájadattá in a drinking-bout for good luck. And though his wife, being intoxicated with that banquet, did not wish to let him go, he left her, and departed to Ratnakúṭa to transact his business, for the royal dignity is an ever-exacting wife. There he remained performing his duties with anxious mind, which seemed ever to ask him, why he left his wife there in a state of intoxication? And in the meanwhile Rájadattá, remaining alone in that inaccessible place, the female servants being occupied in culinary and other duties, saw a certain man come in at the door, like Fate determined to baffle all expedients for guarding her, and his arrival filled her with astonishment. And that intoxicated woman asked him when he approached her, “Who are you, and how have you come to this inaccessible place?” Then that man, who had endured many hardships, answered her—