The adventures of Anangadeva.
Having set out hence by Your Majesty’s orders, I reached in course of time that army of yours assembled under Vikramaśakti, which was like a broad sea resorted to by allied kings, adorned by many princes of the Nágas that had come together with horses and royal magnificence.[13] And when I arrived there, that Vikramaśakti bowed before me, and treated me with great respect, because I had been sent by his sovereign; and while I was there considering the nature of the triumphs he had gained, a messenger from the king of Sinhala[14] came there.
And that messenger, who had come from Sinhala, told to Vikramaśakti in my presence his master’s message as follows, “I have been told by messengers, who have been sent by me to your sovereign and have returned, that your sovereign’s very heart Anangadeva is with you, so send him to me quickly, I will reveal to him a certain auspicious affair, that concerns your king.” Then Vikramaśakti said to me, “Go quickly to the king of Sinhala; and see what he wishes to say to you when he has you before him.”
Then I went through the sea in a ship to the island of Sinhala with that king of Sinhala’s ambassador. And in that island I saw a palace all made of gold, with terraces of various jewels, like the city of the gods. And in it I saw that king of Sinhala, Vírasena, surrounded by obedient ministers, as Indra is by the gods. When I approached him, he received me politely, and asked me about Your Majesty’s health, and then he refreshed me with most sumptuous hospitality.
The next day the king summoned me, when he was in his hall of audience; and showing his devotion to you, said to me in the presence of his ministers, “I have a maiden daughter, the peerless beauty of the world of mortals, Madanalekhá by name, and I offer her to your king. She is a fitting wife for him, and he is a suitable husband for her; for this reason I have invited you; so accept her in the name of your king.[15] And go on in front with my ambassador to tell your master; I will send my daughter here close after you.”
When the king had said this, he summoned into that hall his daughter whose load of ornaments was adorned by her graceful shape, loveliness, and youth. And he made her sit on his lap, and shewing her, said to me, “I offer this girl to your master, receive her.” And when I saw that princess, I was astonished at her beauty, and I said joyfully, “I accept this maiden on behalf of my sovereign,” and I thought to myself, “Well, the Creator is never tired of producing marvels, since even after creating Tilottamá, he has produced this far superior beauty.”
Then, having been honoured by that king, I set forth from that island, with this ambassador of his, Dhavalasena. So we embarked on a ship, and as we were sailing along in it, through the sea, we suddenly saw a great sandbank in the middle of the ocean. And on it we saw two maidens of singular beauty; one had a body as dark as priyangu, the other gleamed white like the moon, and they both looked more splendid from having put on dresses and ornaments suited to their respective hues. They made a sound like the clashing of cymbals with their bracelets adorned with splendid gems, and they were making a young toy-deer, which, though of gold and studded with jewels to represent spots, possessed life, dance in front of them.[16] When we saw this, we were astonished and we said to one another, “What can this wonder mean? Is it a dream, magic, or delusion? Who would ever expect to see a sandbank suddenly start up in the middle of the ocean, or such maidens upon it? And who would ever have thought of seeing such a thing as this living golden deer studded with jewels, which they possess? Such things are not usually found together.”
While we were saying this to one another, king, in the greatest astonishment, a wind suddenly began to blow, tossing up the sea. That wind broke up our ship, which was resting on the surging waves, and the people in it were whelmed in the sea, and the sea-monsters began to devour them. But those two maidens came and supported both of us in their arms, and lifted us up and carried us to the sandbank, so that we escaped the jaws of the sea-monsters. And then that bank began to be covered with waves, at which we were terrified, but those two ladies cheered us, and made us enter what seemed like the interior of a cave. There we began to look at a heavenly wood of various trees, and while we were looking at it, the sea disappeared, and the bank, and the young deer, and the maidens.
We wandered about there for a time, saying to ourselves, “What is this strange thing? It is assuredly some magic.” And then we saw there a great lake, transparent, deep, and broad, like the heart of great men, looking like a material representation of Nirváṇa that allays the fire of desire.[17]
And we saw a certain beautiful woman, coming to bathe in it, accompanied by her train, looking like an incarnation of the beauty of the wood. And that lady alighted from her covered chariot,[18] and gathered lotuses in that lake, and bathed in it, and meditated on Śiva. And thereupon, to our astonishment, Śiva arose from the lake, a present god, in the form of a linga, composed of splendid jewels, and came near her; and that fair one worshipped him with various luxuries suited to her majesty, and then took her lyre. And she played upon it, singing skilfully to it with rapt devotion, following the southern style in respect of notes, time, and words. So splendid was her performance that even the Siddhas and other beings appeared there in the air, having their hearts attracted by hearing it, and remained motionless as if painted. And after she had finished her music,[19] she dismissed the god, and he immediately sank in the lake. Then the gazelle-eyed lady rose up, and mounted her chariot, and proceeded to go away slowly with her train.
We followed her, and eagerly asked her train over and over again, who she was, but none of them gave us any answer. Then, wishing to shew that ambassador of the king of Sinhala your might, I said to her aloud, “Auspicious one, I adjure thee by the touch of king Vikramáditya’s feet, that thou depart not hence without revealing to me who thou art.” When the lady heard this, she made her train retire, and alighted from her chariot, and coming up to me, she said with a gentle voice, “Is my lord the noble king Vikramáditya well? But why do I ask, Anangadeva, since I know all about him? For I exerted magic power, and brought you here for the sake of that king, for I must honour him, as he delivered me from a great danger. So come to my palace; there I will tell you all, who I am, and why I ought to honour that king, and what service he needs to have done him.”
When she had said this, having left her chariot out of courtesy, that fair one went along the path on foot and respectfully conducted me to her castle, which looked like heaven; it was built of various jewels and different kinds of gold; its gates were guarded on every side by brave warriors wearing various forms, and bearing various weapons; and it was full of noble ladies of remarkable beauty, looking as if they were charms that drew down endless heavenly enjoyments. There she honoured us with baths, unguents, splendid dresses and ornaments, and made us rest for a time.
[1] Káma, the god of love.
[2] The central idea of the Birds of Aristophanes.
[3] Here Böhtlingk and Roth would read svadhishṇyány. Two of the three India Office MSS. seem to read this, judging from the way in which they form the combination shṇ. No. 1882 is not quite clear.
[4] He is a kind of Hindu Solomon.
[5] I adopt the correction of the Petersburg lexicographers, vaishamyato for vaiśasyato. I find it in No. 1882 and in the Sanskrit College MS.
[6] The word aníśvara, when applied to the Buddhists, refers to their not believing in a Disposer, but its other meaning is “wanting in wealth.”
[7] I. q. Benares.
[8] As Dr. Kern points out, there is a misprint here, namatyá should be namaty.
[9] Or “not cruel in exacting tribute.”
[10] Glory is white according to the canons of Hindu rhetoric.
[11] It might merely mean, cried “All-Hail,” but here I think there is more in the expression than the usual salutation.
[12] Dr. Kern would read abhyapújayat = honoured. The three India Office MSS. and the Sanskrit College MS. confirm Brockhaus’s text.
[13] A most elaborate pun! There is an allusion to the sea having proved the refuge of the mountains that wished to preserve their wings, to the serpent Vásuki’s having served as a rope with which to whirl round mount Mandara, when the sea was churned and produced Śrí or Lakshmí. In this exploit Hari or Vishṇu bore a distinguished part.
[14] I. q., Ceylon.
[15] Böhtlingk und Roth explain pratípsa in this passage as werben um.
[16] Cp. Iliad XVIII, 417–420. I read pranartayantyau with Dr. Kern for the obvious misprint in the text. The y is found in the three India Office MSS. and in the Sanskrit College MS.
[17] In the original tṛishṇá.
[18] All the India Office MSS. give karṇírathávatírṇá.
[19] The word Gandharvá should be Gándharvá; see B. and R. s. v. har with upa and sam̱. No. 2166 has Gándháras; the other two MSS. agree with Brockhaus’s text.