Story of the princess Karpúriká in her birth as a swan.
On the shore of the ocean there is a great sandal-wood tree. Near it there is a lake adorned with full-blown lotuses. I was a female swan on that lake on account of my actions in a previous birth. Once on a time, out of fear of the sea, I made a nest in that sandal-wood tree with my husband, who was a male swan. When I was dwelling in that nest, I had male offspring born to me, and suddenly a great wave of the sea came and carried them off. When the flood carried away my children, out of grief I wept and took no food; and remained in front of a linga of Śiva on the shore of the sea. Then that male swan, my husband, came to me and said—“Rise up, why do you lament your children that are dead, we shall get other ones.[10] As long as life is preserved, everything can be obtained.” His speech pierced my heart like an arrow, and I reflected—“Alas! males are thus wickedly regardless of their youthful offspring, and show no affection to, or compassion for their females, though they are attached to them. So of what comfort is this husband to me? Of what use is this body that brings only pain?” Thus reflecting, I prostrated myself before Śiva, and devoutly placed him in my heart, and then in front of his symbol, before the eyes of the swan, my husband, I uttered this prayer; “May I become in the next birth a princess remembering my former state,”—and thereupon I flung myself into the sea. Consequently, I have been born in this life such as you see. And because I remember the cruelty of that husband in a former birth, my mind does not feel inclined to any suitor. So I do not desire to be married; the rest is in the hands of Destiny. “This is what the princess said then in private to my daughter, and that daughter of mine came and told it to me.”
“So, my son, I have told you what you asked me. And that princess is undoubtedly destined to be your wife. For she was long ago designated by the god Śiva as the wife of the future emperor of the Vidyádharas. And I see that you are marked with all the distinguishing signs of an emperor, such as the peculiar freckle, and other marks. Perhaps you are some distinguished person brought here by Providence for that very purpose. Rise up, for the present we will see what there is in my house in the way of provision.” After the old lady had told him this, she brought him food, and he and Gomukha spent the night there. And in the morning, the prince deliberated in private with Gomukha as to the steps to be taken, and then he assumed the dress of a Páśupata ascetic, and accompanied by Gomukha, he went to the king’s gate, and roamed about in front of it, crying out again and again—“Ah my female swan! Ah my female swan!” And the people gazed at him. And when the maids beheld him thus employed, they went in astonishment and said to the princess Karpúriká; “Your Highness! we have seen at the royal gate a Páśupata ascetic who, though he has a fellow, is unfellowed in beauty,[11] and he continually utters these words, ‘Ah my female swan! Ah my female swan!’ which bewilders the minds of the women.” When the princess heard this, she, as having been a swan in a former birth, was filled with curiosity, and had him, just as he was, conducted by her maids into her presence. And she saw that he was adorned with infinite beauty, like a new god of Love that had taken a vow to propitiate Śiva. And she said to him, when he looked at her with an eye expanded by curiosity, “What is this that you are continually saying, ‘Ah! my female swan! Ah! my female swan?’” Though she said this to him, he went on to say—“Ah! my female swan!” Then his companion Gomukha answered her; “I will explain this in a few words, listen, Your Highness.
“In a former birth he was a swan on account of his actions in an anterior state of existence. Then he built himself a nest in a sandal-wood tree, on the bank of a great lake near the shore of the sea, and lived there with his female. And as it happened, their offspring in that nest were swept away by a wave, and his female, distracted with grief, threw herself into the sea. Then he, being grieved at separation from her, and disgusted with his bird-nature, desirous of leaving that body, made a pious wish in his heart—‘May I be in a future life a prince remembering my former state, and may this virtuous female swan be my wife, remembering her former existence also.’ Then he thought on Śiva, and scorched with the fire of grief, flung that body into the water of the sea. So he has been now born, my fair lady, as Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa in Kauśámbí, with the power of recollecting his former existence. When he was born, a voice said distinctly from heaven; ‘This prince shall be the emperor of all the kings of the Vidyádharas.’ In course of time, when he had become crown-prince, he was married by his father to the goddess Madanamanchuká of heavenly appearance, who had been born for a certain reason as a woman. And then the daughter of a king of the Vidyádharas named Hemaprabha, the maiden Ratnaprabhá, came of her own accord, and chose him for a husband. Nevertheless, thinking on that female swan, he does not enjoy tranquillity; and he told this to me, who have been his servant from my childhood. Then, while he was out hunting, it happened that he and I had a meeting in the forest with a holy female hermit. And in the course of conversation she said to him with favouring condescension—‘Owing to the effect of his actions the god of Love, my son, became a swan. And a heavenly female, that had fallen through a curse, became his dear wife, when he was dwelling, as a swan, in a sandal-wood tree on the bank of the sea. But she threw herself into the sea, through grief at her offspring having been carried away by the tide, and then the male swan flung himself into the sea also. He has now by the favour of Śiva been born as yourself, the son of the king of Vatsa, and you know of that former birth of yours, my son, for you remember your former existence. And that female swan has been now born in Karpúrasambhava, a city on the shore of the sea, as a princess, Karpúriká by name. Therefore, go there, my son, and win her to wife.’ When the holy female hermit had said this, she flew up into the sky and disappeared. And this lord of mine, having heard this information, immediately set out with me to come here. And being attracted by love for you, he risked his life, and after traversing a hundred difficulties, he reached the shore of the sea. There we had an interview with the carpenter, named Rájyadhara, who dwells in Hemapura, and who gave us an ingenious chariot. We have mounted on this terrible machine, as if it were our courage having taken shape,[12] and have crossed the perilous gulf of the sea, and arrived at this town. For this reason, queen, my master wandered about, exclaiming, ‘Ah my female swan!’ until he came into your presence. Now, from the pleasing sight of the noble moon of your countenance, he enjoys the removal of the darkness caused by the presence of innumerable woes. Now, honour your noble guest with the blue lotus garland of your look.” When Karpúriká heard this feigned speech of Gomukha’s, she thought it was true, relying on the fact that it harmonized with her own recollections. And she melted in her soul with love, and she thought, “After all this husband of mine was attached to me, and my despondency was causeless.” And she said—“I am in truth that very female swan, and I am fortunate in that my husband has for my sake endured suffering in two births. So now I am your slave, overcome by love;” and saying this, she honoured Naraváhanadatta with baths and other hospitalities. Then she informed her father of all this by the mouth of her attendants, and he, the moment he heard it, came to her. Then the king thought himself fortunate, having seen that his daughter had conceived a desire to be married, and that an appropriate suitor for her had at length arrived in Naraváhanadatta, who was marked with all the signs of a great emperor. And he gave, with all due honour, his daughter Karpúriká to Naraváhanadatta according to the prescribed form. And he gave to that son-in-law of his, at every circumambulation from left to right of the sacred fire, thirty millions of gold-pieces, and as many lumps of camphor, the heaps of which appeared like the peaks of Meru and Kailása that had witnessed the marriage of Párvatí, come to behold his magnificence. Moreover the king Karpúraka, who had attained his wish, gave Naraváhanadatta a hundred millions of excellent garments and three hundred female slaves well adorned. And Naraváhanadatta, after his marriage, remained with that Karpúriká, as if with affection incarnate in bodily form. Whose mind was not delighted at the union of that couple, which resembled the marriage of the spring-creeper and the spring-festival?
And on the next day Naraváhanadatta, who had attained his object, said to his beloved Karpúriká, “Come, let us go to Kauśámbí.” Then she answered him—“If it is to be so, why should we not go there immediately in this chariot of yours that flies through the air? If it is too small, I will furnish another large one, for there is living here a mechanic who makes ingenious chariots, who has come from a foreign land, Práṇadhara by name; I will cause him quickly to make such a chariot.” After saying this, she called the warder that kept the door, and said to him—“Go and order that chariot-maker Práṇadhara to prepare a large chariot, that will travel through the air, for us to start in.” Then the queen Karpúriká, having dismissed the warder, informed her father by the mouth of a slave of her desire to depart. And while the king, on hearing it, was coming thither, Naraváhanadatta thus reflected; “This Práṇadhara is certainly the brother of Rájyadhara, whom he described as having run away from his native land through fear of his king.” While he was thus thinking, the king quickly arrived, and that mechanic Práṇadhara came with the warder, and said—“I have ready-made a very large chariot, which will easily carry at this instant thousands of men.” When the mechanic said this, Naraváhanadatta said “Bravo!” and asked him courteously; “Are you the elder brother of Rájyadhara, skilled in various very great mechanical contrivances?” And Práṇadhara answered him, bowing before him—“I am that very brother of his, but how does Your Highness know about us?” Then Naraváhanadatta told him what Rájyadhara had told him, and how he had seen him. Then Práṇadhara joyfully brought him the chariot, and he mounted it with Gomukha, after having been politely dismissed by his father-in-law the king, and after bidding farewell to him; but first he placed in it the slaves, camphor and gold. And he took with him Práṇadhara, whom the king permitted to depart, and that head-warder, and his recently married wife Karpúriká; and his mother-in-law uttered a solemn prayer for a blessing on his journey, and from those stores of splendid garments he bestowed gifts on the Bráhmans; and he said to Práṇadhara—“First let us go to Rájyadhara on the shore of the sea, and then home.” Then the chariot was driven on by Práṇadhara, and the king and his wife flew up into the air quickly by means of it, as if by his accomplished wish.[13] In a moment he crossed the sea, and reached again that city of Hemapura on its shore, the abode of that Rájyadhara. There Rájyadhara bowed before him, delighted at beholding his brother, and as he had no female slaves, the prince honoured him with the gift of some, at which he greatly rejoiced. And after taking leave of Rájyadhara, whose tears flowed fast, as he could hardly bear to part from his elder brother, the prince reached Kauśámbí in that same chariot. Then the people, on beholding the prince unexpectedly descend from heaven, riding in that splendid chariot, followed by his retainers, and accompanied by his new bride, were much astonished. And his father, the king of Vatsa, having gathered from the exultations of the citizens that his son had arrived, was delighted, and went out to meet him, accompanied by the queen, the ministers, his daughter-in-law, and other persons. And the king, beholding that son prostrate at his feet with his wife, received him gladly, and thought that the fact, that he was to be the future emperor of the aerial spirits, was clearly revealed by his coming in a flying chariot. His mother Vásavadattá, with Padmávatí, embraced him, and she shed a tear, which dropped like the knot of pain loosened by seeing him. And his wife Ratnaprabhá was delighted, and Madanamanchuká also, and their jealousy being overcome by love for him, they embraced his feet, and won his heart at the same time. And the prince delighted his father’s ministers, headed by Yaugandharáyaṇa, and his own, headed by Marubhúti, when they bowed before him, by rewarding them as they severally deserved. And they all, with the king of Vatsa at their head, welcomed that new wife Karpúriká, who bowed becomingly before them, like the goddess of Fortune arrived surrounded by a hundred immortal nymphs, even the sister-shape of Amṛita,[14] openly brought by her husband, having crossed the sea adorned with its shore as a garment with a beautiful fringe. And the king of Vatsa honoured that warder of her father’s, giving him many crores of gold-pieces, garments and lumps of camphor, which had been brought in the chariot. And the king then honoured Práṇadhara as the benefactor of his son Naraváhanadatta, who had pointed him out as the maker of the chariot. And then the king honoured Gomukha, and asked him joyfully, “How did you obtain this princess? And how did you start from this place?” And then Gomukha deftly told the king of Vatsa, with his wives and ministers, in private, the whole adventure, as it took place, beginning with their going to the forest to hunt,——how they met the female hermit, and how they crossed the sea by means of the chariot provided by Rájyadhara, and how Karpúriká was obtained with her female attendants, though she was averse to marriage, and how they returned by the way by which they went, in a chariot which they obtained by finding Práṇadhara. Then all of them, shaking their heads in astonishment and joy, said—“To think of the concurrence of all these circumstances, the chase, and the female ascetic, the carpenter Rájyadhara skilled in mechanical contrivances found on the shore of the sea, the crossing the ocean in the chariot that he made, and that another maker of these chariots should have previously reached the other side of the ocean! The truth is, Destiny takes trouble to provide the fortunate with the means of obtaining prosperous success.” Then all respectfully commended Gomukha for his devotion to his lord. And they praised queen Ratnaprabhá, who by her knowledge protected her lord on his journey, for she produced general satisfaction by acting like a woman devoted to her husband. Then Naraváhanadatta, having made his party of air-travellers forget the fatigues of their journey, entered his palace with his father, and mother, his wives and other relations. Then his treasury was filled with heaps of gold by the friends and relations who came to see him, and whom he honoured, and he loaded Práṇadhara and his father-in-law’s warder with wealth. And Práṇadhara, immediately after he had taken food, respectfully addressed this petition to him—“Prince, king Karpúriká gave us the following order—‘You must come back quickly as soon as my daughter has reached her husband’s palace, in order that I may have early news of her arrival.’ So we must certainly go there quickly this very moment; give us a letter from Karpúriká to the king written with her own hand. For otherwise the heart of the king, which is attached to his daughter, will not take comfort. For he, never having mounted an air-chariot, fears that we may have fallen from it. So give me the letter, and permit this head-warder, who is desirous of ascending the chariot, to depart with me. But I will return here, crown-prince, and will bring my family, for I cannot abandon the two ambrosial lotuses of your feet.” When Práṇadhara said this firmly, the son of the king of Vatsa immediately made Karpúriká sit down to write that letter. It ran as follows, “My father, you must not feel anxious about me, since I share the happiness and possess the love of a good husband; was the goddess Lakshmí an object of anxiety to the ocean after she had betaken herself to the Supreme Bridegroom?” When she had written the above letter with her own hand, and given it, the son of the king of Vatsa dismissed the warder and Práṇadhara with honour. And they ascended the chariot, and produced astonishment in the minds of all, as they were seen going through the air, and crossing the sea they went to the city of Karpúrasambhava. There they delighted the king Karpúraka by reading out his daughter’s letter, which told that she had reached her husband’s palace. The next day Práṇadhara took leave of the king, and after visiting Rájyadhara, repaired with his family into the presence of Naraváhanadatta. Naraváhanadatta, when he had returned thus quickly after accomplishing his mission, gave him a dwelling near his palace and an ample allowance. And he amused himself, and his wives, by going about in the flying chariots made by him, as if rehearsing future journeyings in the skies as emperor of the Vidyádharas.
Thus, having delighted his friends, followers and wives, and obtained a third wife Karpúriká in addition to Ratnaprabhá and Madanamanchuká, the son of the king of Vatsa spent those days in happiness.
[1] I read sarastírát for sarittírát.
[2] Here there is a pun, as the words may also be construed “woven of excellent threads.”
[3] Maya was the architect of the Daityas. According to some Maya = Ptolemaios.
[4] I. e. holding life.
[5] Cp. the Metamorphoses (Golden Ass) of Apuleius, Lib. V, cap. III. Visoquestatim semirotundo suggestu propter instrumentum cœnatorum, rata refectui suo commodum, libens accumbit. Et illico vini nectarei eduliumque variorum fercula copiosa, nullo serviento, sed tantum spiritu quodam impulsa, subministrantur. See also the romance of Parthenopex of Blois in Dunlop’s History of Fiction, (Liebrecht’s translation, p. 175). See Liebrecht’s translation of the Pentamerone of Basile, Vol. I, p. 55.
[6] I. e., holding or possessing a kingdom.
[7] I. e., greed of wealth.
[8] Cp. Die Sieben Weisen Meister c. 18, (Simrock’s Deutsche Volksbücher, Vol. XII, p. 185).
[10] Cp. Herodotus III. 119; Antigone, vv. 909–912. See also the Pentamerone of Basile, Vol. II, p. 131, and the Ucchanga Játaka, No. 67 in Dr. Fausböll’s edition.
[11] A mere pun.
[12] I read with a MS. in the Sanskrit College—bhayade há múrta iva sáhase.
[13] “Wish” is literally “chariot of the mind,” so here there is a pun.
[14] Both Śrí and the Amṛita came out of the sea when it was churned. Sudaśárha kúlena seems to be corrupt.