[7] Böhtlingk and Roth in their Dictionary explain the passage as follows: imam, (i. e., patim) vyutthápya yátá iti, she was unfaithful to her husband.
[8] Gotraja nearly equivalent to the Gentile of Roman law, and applied to kindred of the same general family connected by offerings of food and water; hence opposed to the Bandhu or cognate kindred. She represented that she was a prince whose clansmen were trying to disinherit him.
[9] Cp. Thorpe’s Yuletide Stories, p. 341, cited before on p. 25, also Sagas from the Far East, p. 162. The Mongolian version supplies the connecting link between India and Europe. In the Sagas from the Far East, the Rákshasas are replaced by crows. Compare also the way in which the gardener in “Das Rosmarinsträuchlein,” Kaden’s Unter den Olivenbäumen, p. 12, acquires some useful information. The story of Kírtisená from this point to the cure of the king closely resembles the latter half of Die Zauberkugeln in the same collection. A striking parallel will be found in Basile’s Pentamerone, Vol. I, p. 166. See also Waldau’s Böhmische Märchen, p. 272; Gaal, Die Märchen der Magyaren, p. 178; Coelho, Contos Populares Portuguezes, p. 47. In Waldau’s Story there is a strange similarity in the behaviour of the king, on first seeing the young physician, to that of Vasudatta. See also the Sixth Tale in Ralston’s Tibetan Tales and the remarks in the Introduction, p. li.
[10] Names of Rákshasas mentioned in the Rámáyaṇa.
[11] Water is the principal ingredient of the offering called argha or arghya.
[12] This gem is formed from the congelation of the rays of the moon, and dissolves under the influence of its light. There is of course an elaborate pun in Chandrakánta.
Chapter XXX.
Then Kalingasená out of love went to the top of a palace on the high road, to follow with her eyes the course of Somaprabhá, who had set out for her own home, and by chance a young king of the Vidyádharas, named Madanavega, travelling through the air, had a near view of her. The youth beholding her, bewildering the three worlds with her beauty, like the bunch of peacock feathers of the conjuror Cupid, was much troubled. He reflected—“Away with the Vidyádhara beauties! Not even the Apsarases deserve to be mentioned in presence of the surpassing loveliness of this mortal lady. So if she will not consent to become my wife, what is the profit of my life? But how can I associate with a mortal lady, being a Vidyádhara?” Thereupon he called to mind the science named Prajnapti, and that science, appearing in bodily form, thus addressed him, “She is not really a mortal woman, she is an Apsaras, degraded in consequence of a curse, and born in the house of the august king Kalingadatta.” When the Vidyádhara had been thus informed by the science, he went off delighted and distracted with love; and averse from all other things, reflected in his palace; “It is not fitting for me to carry her off by force; for the possession of women by force is, according to a curse, fated to bring me death. So in order to obtain her, I must propitiate Śiva by asceticism, for happiness is procurable by asceticism, and no other expedient presents itself.” Thus he resolved, and the next day he went to the Ṛishabha mountain, and standing on one foot, performed penance without taking food. Then the husband of Ambiká was soon won over by Madanavega’s severe asceticism, and appearing to him, thus enjoined him, “This maiden, named Kalingasená, is famous for beauty on the earth, and she cannot find any husband equal to her in the gift of loveliness. Only the king of Vatsa is a fitting match for her, and he longs to possess her, but through fear of Vásavadattá, does not dare to court her openly. And this princess, who is longing for a handsome husband, will hear of the king of Vatsa from the mouth of Somaprabhá, and repair to him to choose him as her husband. So, before her marriage takes place, assume the form of the impatient king of Vatsa, and go and make her your wife by the Gándharva ceremony. In this way, fair sir, you will obtain Kalingasená.” Having received this command from Śiva, Madanavega prostrated himself before him, and returned to his home on the slope of the Kálakúṭa mountain.
Then Kalingasená went on enjoying herself in the city of Takshaśilá, in the society of Somaprabhá, who went every night to her own home, and came back every morning to her friend, in her chariot that travelled through the air: and one day she said to Somaprabhá in private; “My friend, you must not tell any one what I tell you. Listen, and I will give you a reason that makes me think the time of my marriage has arrived. Ambassadors have been sent here by many kings to ask me in marriage. And they, after an interview with my father, have always hitherto been dismissed by him as they came. But now the king of the name of Prasenajit, who lives in Śrávastí, has sent a messenger, and he alone has been received with honourable distinction by my father. And that course has been recommended by my mother, so I conjecture, the king, my suitor, has been approved of by my father and mother, as of sufficiently noble lineage. For he is born in that family, in which were born Ambá and Ambáliká, the paternal grandmothers of the Kurus and Páṇḍus. So, my friend, it is clear that they have now determined to bestow me in marriage on this king Prasenajit in the city of Śrávastí.” When Somaprabhá heard this from Kalingasená, she suddenly shed from grief a copious shower of tears, creating, as it were, a second necklace. And when her friend asked her the cause of her tears, that daughter of the Asura Maya, who had seen all the terrestrial world, said to her—“Of the desirable requisites in a suitor, youth, good looks, noble birth, good disposition, and wealth, youth is of the greatest importance; high birth, and so on, are of subordinate importance. But I have seen that king Prasenajit, and he is an old man; who cares about his high lineage, as he is old, any more than about the birth of the jasmine-flower? You will be to be pitied when linked to him who is white as snow, as the lotus-bed, when linked to the winter, and your face will be a withered lotus. For this reason despondency has arisen in me, but I should be delighted if Udayana, the king of Vatsa, were to become your husband, O auspicious lady. For there is no king upon the earth equal to him in form, beauty, lineage, daring and riches. If, fair one, you should be married to that fitting mate, the display which the Creator has made in your case of his power to create beauty, would have brought forth fruit.” By means of these speeches, artfully framed by Somaprabhá, the mind of Kalingasená was impelled as if by engines, and flew towards the king of Vatsa. And then the princess asked the daughter of Maya, “Friend, how is it that he is called the king of Vatsa? In what race was he born? And whence was he named Udayana? Tell me.” Then Somaprabhá said—“Listen, friend, I will tell you that. There is a land, the ornament of the earth, named Vatsa. In it there is a city named Kauśámbí, like a second Amarávatí; and he is called the king of Vatsa because he rules there. And hear his lineage, my friend, related by me. Arjuna of the Páṇḍava race had a son named Abhimanyu, and he, skilled in breaking the close rings of the hostile army, destroyed the force of the Kauravas. From him there sprang a king named Paríkshit, the head of the race of Bharata, and from him sprang Janamejaya, who performed the snake-sacrifice. His son was Śatáníka who settled in Kauśámbí, and he was slain in a war between the gods and Asuras after slaying many giants. His son was king Sahasráníka, an object of praise to the world, to whom Indra sent his chariot, and he went to heaven and returned thence. To him was born this Udayana by the queen Mṛigávatí, the ornament of the race of the Moon, a king that is a feast to the eyes of the world. Hear too the reason of his name. That Mṛigávatí, the mother of this high-born king, being pregnant, felt a desire to bathe in a lake of blood, and her husband, afraid of committing sin, had a lake made of liquid lac and other coloured fluids in which she plunged. Then a bird of the race of Garuḍa pounced upon her, thinking she was raw flesh, and carried her off, and, as fate would have it, left her alive on the mountain of the sunrise. And there the hermit Jamadagni saw her, and comforted her, promising her reunion with her husband, and she remained there in his hermitage. For such was the curse inflicted upon her husband by Tilottamá jealous on account of his neglecting her, which caused him separation from his wife for a season. And in some days she brought forth a son in the hermitage of Jamadagni on that very mountain of the sunrise, as the sky brings forth the new moon. And because he was born on the mountain of the sunrise, the gods then and there gave him the name of Udayana, uttering from heaven this bodiless voice—‘This Udayana, who is now born, shall be sovereign of the whole earth, and there shall be born to him a son, who shall be emperor of all the Vidyádharas.’