Story of Saudáminí.
There is on the confines of the southern region a range of tamála forests, dark with clouds that obscure the sun, looking like the home of the monsoon. In it dwells a famous Yaksha of the name of Pṛithúdara, and I am his only daughter, Saudáminí by name. My loving father led me from one mighty mountain to another, and I was for ever amusing myself in heavenly gardens.
And one day, as I was sporting on mount Kailása with my friend Kapiśabhrú, I saw a young Yaksha named Aṭṭahása. He too, as he stood among his companions, beheld me; and immediately our eyes were mutually attracted by one another’s beauty. When my father saw that, and ascertained that the match would be no mésalliance, he summoned Aṭṭahása, and arranged our marriage. And after he had fixed an auspicious day, he took me home, but Aṭṭahása returned to his home with his friends in high spirits. But the next day my friend Kapiśabhrú came to me with a downcast air, and when I questioned her, she was at length induced to say this; “Friend, I must tell you this bad news, though it is a thing which should not be told. As I was coming to-day, I saw your betrothed Aṭṭahása in a garden named Chitrasthala, on a plateau of the Himálayas, full of longing for you. And his friends, in order to amuse him, made him in sport king of the Yakshas, and they made his brother Díptaśikha personate Naḍakúvara his son, and they themselves became his ministers. While your beloved was being solaced in this way by his friends, Naḍakúvara, who was roaming at will through the air, saw him. And the son of the king of wealth, being enraged at what he saw, summoned him, and cursed him in the following words; ‘Since, though a servant, you desire to pose as a lord, become a mortal, you villain! As you wish to mount, fall!’ When he laid this curse on Aṭṭahása, he answered despondingly, ‘Prince, I foolishly did this to dispel my longing, not through aspiring to any lofty rank, so have mercy upon me.’ When Naḍakúvara heard this sorrowful speech of his, he ascertained by meditation that the case was so, and said to him by way of fixing an end for the curse, ‘You shall become a man, and beget on that Yakshiṇí, with whom you are in love, your younger brother Díptaśikha by way of son,[5] and so you shall be delivered from your curse, and obtain your own rank once more, together with your wife, and this brother of yours shall be born as your son, and after he has reigned on earth, he shall be released from his curse.’ When the son of the god of wealth had said this, Aṭṭahása disappeared somewhere or other by virtue of the curse. And when I saw that, my friend, I came here to you grieved.” When my friend said this to me, I was reduced to a terrible state by grief, and after I had bewailed my lot, I went and told it to my parents, and I spent that time in hope of a re-union with my beloved.
“You are Aṭṭahása born again as a Bráhman, and I am that Yakshiṇí, and we have been thus united here, so we shall soon have a son born to us. When the Bráhman Pavitradhara’s wise wife Saudáminí said this to him, he conceived the hope that he would have a son, and was much delighted. And in course of time a son was born to him by that Yakshiṇí, whose birth cheered up their house and his mind. And when Pavitradhara saw the face of that son, he immediately assumed a celestial shape and became again the Yaksha Aṭṭahása. And he said to that Yakshiṇí, “My dear, our curse is at an end. I have become Aṭṭahása as before, come let us return to our own place.”
When he said this, his wife said to him, “Think what is to become of the child your brother, who through a curse has been born as your son.” When Aṭṭahása heard that, he saw what was to be done by means of his powers of contemplation, and said to her; “My dear, there is in this town a Bráhman of the name of Devadarśana. He is poor in children and in wealth, and, though he keeps up five fires, hunger makes two others burn more fiercely, namely, the fire of digestion in his own stomach and in that of his wife. And one day, as he was engaged in asceticism to obtain wealth and a son, the holy god of fire, whom he was propitiating, said to him in a dream, ‘You have not a son of your own, but you shall have an adopted son, and by means of him, Bráhman, your poverty shall come to an end.’ On account of this revelation of the god of fire, the Bráhman is at the present moment expecting that son, so we must give him this child of ours, for this is the decree of fate.” After Aṭṭahása had said this to his beloved, he placed the child on the top of a pitcher full of gold, and fastened round its neck a garland of heavenly jewels, and deposited it in the house of that Bráhman at night when he and his wife were asleep, and then went with his beloved to his own place.
Then the Bráhman Devadarśana and his wife woke up, and beheld that young moon of a child glittering with resplendent jewels, and the Bráhman thought in his astonishment, “What can be the meaning of this?” but when he saw the pot of gold, he remembered what the god of fire had told him in his dream, and rejoiced. And he took that young son given him by fate, and that wealth, and in the morning he made a great feast. And on the eleventh day he gave the child the appropriate name of Śrídarśana.[6] Then the Bráhman Devadarśana, having become very rich, remained performing his sacrificial and other ceremonies, and enjoying the good things of this world at the same time.
The brave Śrídarśana grew up in his father’s house, and acquired great skill in the Vedas and other branches of learning, and in the use of weapons. But in course of time, when he had grown up, his father Devadarśana, who had gone on a pilgrimage to sacred bathing-places, died at Prayága. His mother, hearing of that, entered the fire, and then Śrídarśana mourned for them, and performed on their behalf the ceremonies enjoined in the sacred treatises. But in course of time his grief diminished, and as he was not married, and had no relations, he became, though well educated, devoted to gambling. And in a short time his wealth was consumed by means of that vice, and he had difficulty in obtaining even food.
One day, after he had remained in the gambling-hall without food for three days, being unable to go out for shame, as he had not got a decent garment to wear, and refusing to eat the food which others gave him, a certain gambler, named Mukharaka, who was a friend of his, said to him, “Why are you so utterly overwhelmed? Do you not know that such is the nature of the sinful vice of gambling? Do you not know that the dice are the sidelong loving looks of the goddess of Ill Luck? Has not Providence ordained for you the usual lot of the gambler? His arms are his only clothing, the dust is his bed, the cross-roads are his house, ruin is his wife.[7] So why do you refuse to take food? Why do you neglect your health, though you are a wise man? For what object of desire is there that a resolute man cannot obtain, as long as he continues alive? Hear in illustration of this truth the following wonderful story of Bhúnandana.”