The second Bráhman’s story.
There is in the bosom of the Himálayas a country named Nishada, which is the only refuge of virtue, banished from the earth by Kali, and the native land of truth, and the home of the Kṛita age. The inhabitants of that land are insatiable of learning, but not of money-getting; they are satisfied with their own wives, but with benefiting others never. I am the son of a Bráhman of that country who was rich in virtue and wealth. I left my home, my friend, out of a curiosity which impelled me to see other countries, and wandering about, visiting teachers, I reached in course of time the city of Śankhapura not far from here, where there is a great purifying lake of clear water, sacred to Śankhapála king of the Nágas, and called Śankhahrada.
While I was living there in the house of my spiritual preceptor, I went one holy bathing festival to visit the lake Śankhahrada. Its banks were crowded, and its waters troubled on every side by people who had come from all countries, like the sea when the gods and Asuras churned it. I beheld that great lake, which seemed to make the women look more lovely, as their garlands of flowers fell from their loosened braids, while it gently stroked their waists with its waves like hands, and made itself slightly yellow with the unguents which its embraces rubbed off from their bodies. I then went to the south of the lake, and beheld a clump of trees, which looked like the body of Cupid being consumed by the fire of Śiva’s eye; its lápinchas did duty for smoke, its kinśukas for red coals, and it was all aflame with twining masses of the full-blown scarlet aśoka.
There I saw a certain maiden gathering flowers at the entrance of an arbour composed of the atimukta creeper; she seemed with her playful sidelong glances to be threatening the lotus in her ear; she kept raising her twining arm and displaying half her bosom; and her beautiful loosened hair, hanging down her back, seemed like the darkness seeking shelter to escape from her moon-like face. And I said to myself “Surely the Creator must have made this girl, after he had got his hand in by creating Rambhá and her sister-nymphs, but one can see that she is mortal by the winking of her eyes.”
The moment I saw that gazelle-eyed maid, she pierced my heart, like a crescent-headed javelin of Mára, bewildering the three worlds. And the moment she saw me, she was overcome by Cupid, and her hands were rendered nerveless and listless by love, and she desisted from her amusement of gathering flowers. She seemed, with the flashings of the ruby in the midst of her moving flexible chain,[9] to be displaying the flames of affection that had broken forth from her heart in which they could not be contained; and turning round, she looked at me again and again with an eye that seemed to be rendered more charming by the pupil coming down to rest in its corner.
While we stood for a while looking at one another, there arose there a great noise of people flying in terror. And there came that way an infuriated elephant driven mad by the smell of the wild elephants; it had broken its chain, and thrown its rider, and the elephant-hook was swinging to and fro at the end of its ear. The moment I saw the animal, I rushed forward, and taking up in my arms my beloved, who was terrified, and whose attendants had run away, I carried her into the middle of the crowd. Then she began to recover her composure, and her attendants came up; but just at that moment the elephant, attracted by the noise of the people, charged in our direction. The crowd dispersed in terror at the monster’s approach, and she disappeared among them, having been carried off by her attendants in one direction, while I went in another.
At last the alarm caused by the elephant came to an end, and then I searched in every direction for that slender-waisted maid, but I could not find her, as I did not know her name, her family, or her dwelling-place; and so roaming about, with a void in my heart, like a Vidyádhara that has lost his magic power, I with difficulty tottered into my teacher’s house. There I remained like one in a faint or asleep, remembering the joy of embracing my beloved, and anxious lest her love might fail.[10] And in course of time reflection lulled me in her lap, as if affected with the compassion natural to noble women, and shewed me a glimpse of hope, and soul-paining ignorance hugged my heart, and an exceedingly severe headache took possession of my brain.[11] In the meanwhile the day slipped away and my self-command with it, and the lotus-thicket folded its cups and my face was contracted with them, and the couples of Brahmany ducks were dispersed with my hopes, the sun having gone to rest.
Then the moon, the chief friend of Love, that gladdens the eyes of the happy, rose up, adorning the face of the east; its rays, though ambrosial, seemed to me like fiery fingers, and though it lit up the quarters of the sky, it closed in me all hope of life. Then one of my fellow-students, seeing that in my misery I had flung my body into moonlight as into a fire, and was longing for death, said to me, “Why are you in this evil case? You do not appear to have any disease; but, if you have mental affliction caused by longing for wealth or by love, I will tell you the truth about those objects; listen to me. The wealth, which through over-covetousness men desire to gain by cheating their neighbours, or by robbing them, does not remain. The poison-trees[12] of wealth, which are rooted in wickedness and bring forth an abundant crop of wickedness, are soon broken by the weight of their own fruit. All that is gained by that wealth in this world, is the toil of acquiring it and other annoyances, and in the next world great suffering in hell, a suffering that shall continue as long as the moon and stars endure. As for love, that love which fails of attaining its object brings disappointment that puts an end to life, and unlawful love, though pleasing in the mouth, is simply the forerunner of the fire of hell,[13] but a man’s mind is sound owing to good actions in a former life, and a hero, who possesses self-command and energy, obtains wealth, and the object of his desires, not a spiritless coward like you. So, my good fellow, have recourse to self-command, and strive for the attainment of your ends.”
When that friend said this to me I returned him a careless and random answer. However, I concealed my real thoughts, spent the night in a calm and composed manner, and in course of time came here, to see if by any chance she lived in this town. When I arrived here, I saw you with your neck in a noose, and after you were cut down, I heard from you your sorrow, and I have now told you my own.
So I have made efforts to obtain that fair one whose name and dwelling-place I know not, and have thus exerted myself to gain what no heroism could procure; but why do you, when Madirávatí is within your grasp, play the faint-heart, instead of manfully striving to win her? Have you not heard the legend of old days with regard to Rukmiṇí? Was she not carried off by Vishṇu after she had been given to the king of Chedi?
While that friend of mine was thus concluding his tale, Madirávatí came there with her followers, preceded by the usual auspicious band of music, in order to worship the god of Love in this temple of the Mothers. And I said to my friend, “I knew all along that maidens on the day of their marriage come here to worship the god of Love, this is why I tried to hang myself on the banyan-tree in front of this temple, in order that when Madirávatí came here, she might see that I had died for her sake.” When that resolute Bráhman friend heard that, he said, “Then let us quickly slip into this temple and remain hidden behind the images of the Mothers, and see whether any expedient will then present itself to us or not.” When my friend made this proposal, I consented, and went with him into that temple, and remained there concealed.
And Madirávatí came there slowly, escorted by the auspicious wedding music, and entered that temple. And she left at the door all her female friends and male attendants, saying to them, “I wish in private to crave from the awful god of Love a certain boon[14] that is in my mind, so remain all of you outside the building.” Then she came in and addressed the following prayer to Kámadeva after she had worshipped him, “O god, since thou art named ‘the mind-born,’ how was it that thou didst not discern the beloved that was in my mind? Why hast thou disappointed and slain me? If thou hast not been able to grant me my boon in this birth, at any rate have mercy upon me in my next birth, O husband of Rati. Shew me so much favour as to ensure that handsome young Bráhman’s being my husband in my next birth.”
When the girl had said this in our hearing and before our eyes, she made a noose by fastening her upper garment to a peg, and put it round her neck. And my friend said to me, “Go and shew yourself to her, and take the noose from her neck;” so I immediately went towards her. And I said to her with a voice faltering from excess of joy, “Do not act rashly, my beloved; see, here is your slave in front of you, bought by you with the risk of your life, in whom affection has been produced by your utterance in the moment of your grief;” and with these words I removed the noose from the neck of that fair one.
She immediately looked at me, and remained for a moment divided between joy and terror, and then my friend said quickly to me, “As this is a dimly lighted hour owing to the waning of the day, I will go out dressed in Madirávatí’s garments with her attendants. And do you go out by the second door, taking with you this bride wrapped up in our upper garments. And make for whatever foreign country you please, during the night, when you will be able to avoid detection. And do not be anxious about me. Fate will bestow on me prosperity.” When my friend had said this, he put on Madirávatí’s dress, and went out, and left that temple in the darkness, surrounded by her attendants.
And I slipped out by another door with Madirávatí, who wore a necklace of priceless jewels, and went three yojanas in the night. In the morning I took food, and slowly travelling on, I reached in the course of some days, with my beloved, a city named Achalapura. There a certain Bráhman shewed himself my friend, and gave me a house, and there I quickly married Madirávatí.
So I have been living there in happiness, having obtained my desire, and my only anxiety has been as to what could have become of my friend. And in course of time I came here to bathe in the Ganges, on this day which is the festival of the summer solstice, and lo! I found here this man who without cause shewed himself my friend. And full of embarrassment I folded him in a long embrace, and at last made him sit down and asked him to tell me his adventures, and at that moment your Highness came up. Know, son of the king of Vatsa, that this other Bráhman at my side is my true friend in calamity, to whom I owe my life and my wife.
When one Bráhman had told his story in these words, Naraváhanadatta said to the other Bráhman, “I am much pleased; now tell me, how did you escape from so great a danger? For men like yourself, who disregard their lives for the sake of their friends, are hard to find.” When the second Bráhman heard this speech of the son of the king of Vatsa, he also began to tell his adventures.