[8] For san I should prefer sa which is read in a MS. lent me by the Principal of the Sanskrit College.
Chapter XXXII.
Then the artful minister Yaugandharáyaṇa came the next morning to the king of Vatsa, who was expecting him, and made the following representation—“O king, why do you not immediately enquire about an auspicious moment for celebrating the happy marriage of your highness with Kalingasená, the daughter of Kalingadatta, the king of Takshaśilá?”[1] When the king heard that, he said—“The same desire is fixed in my heart, for my mind cannot endure to remain a moment without her.” Having said this, the simple-hearted monarch gave orders to a warder, who stood before him, and summoned the astrologers. When he questioned them, they, having had their cue previously given them by the prime minister, said, “For the king there will be a favourable moment in six months from this time.”
When Yaugandharáyaṇa heard this, he pretended to be angry, and the cunning fellow said to the king, “Out on these blockheads! That astrologer, whom your highness previously honoured on the ground of his cleverness, has not come to-day, ask him, and then do what is proper.” When he heard this speech of his minister’s, the king of Vatsa immediately summoned that very astrologer with mind in an agony of suspense. He also stuck to his agreement, and in order to put off the day of the marriage he named when asked, after some reflection, a moment six months off. Then Yaugandharáyaṇa pretending to be distracted, said to the king—“Let your majesty command what is to be done in this matter!” The king, being impatient and longing for a favourable moment, said, after reflecting—“You must ask Kalingasená, and see what she says.” When Yaugandharáyaṇa heard this, he took with him two astrologers and went into the presence of Kalingasená. She received him politely, and beholding her beauty, he reflected—“If the king were to obtain her, he would abandon the whole kingdom in his reckless passion.” And he said to her, “I am come with these astrologers to fix the moment of your marriage; so let these servants inform me of the particular star in the lunar mansions under which you were born.” When the astrologers heard the lunar mansion stated by her attendants, they pretended to investigate the matter, and kept saying in the course of their calculations, “It is not on this side, it must be after that.” At last, in accordance with their agreement with the minister, they named again that very moment at the end of six months. When Kalingasená heard that distant date fixed, she was cast down in spirit, but her chamberlain said, “You must first fix a favourable moment, so that this couple may be happy all their lives, what matters it whether it be near or far off?” When they heard this speech of the chamberlain’s, all there immediately exclaimed—“Well said.” And Yaugandharáyaṇa said, “Yes, and if an inauspicious moment is appointed for us, the king Kalingadatta, our proposed connexion, will be grieved.” Then Kalingasená, being helpless, said to them all—“Let it be as you appoint in your wisdom”—and remained silent. And at once accepting that speech of hers, Yaugandharáyaṇa took leave of her, and went with the astrologers into the presence of the king. Then he told the proceedings to the king of Vatsa, exactly as they had happened, and so having settled his mind by an artifice, he went to his own house.
So having attained his object of putting off the marriage, in order to complete the scheme he had in view, he called to mind his friend, the Bráhman-Rákshasa, named Yogeśvara. He, according to his previous promise, when thought of, readily came to the minister, and bowed before him and said—“Why am I called to mind?” Then Yaugandharáyaṇa told him the whole incident of Kalingasená which was tempting his master to vice, and again said to him—“I have managed to gain time, my friend; in that interval, do you, remaining concealed, observe by your skill the behaviour of Kalingasená. For the Vidyádharas and other spirits are without doubt secretly in love with her, since there is no other woman in the three worlds equal to her in beauty. So, if she were to have an intrigue with some Siddha or Vidyádhara, and you were to see it, it would be a fortunate thing. And you must observe the divine lover, though he come disguised, when he is asleep, for divine beings, when asleep, assume their own form. If in this way we are able to discover any offence in her by means of your eyes, the king will be disgusted with her, and will accomplish that object of ours.” When the minister said this to him, the Bráhman-Rákshasa answered, “Why should I not by some artifice cause her to fall or slay her?” When the great minister Yaugandharáyaṇa heard that, he said to him—“This must not be done, for it would be a very wicked deed. And whoever goes his own way without offending against the god of justice, finds that that god comes to his assistance to enable him to attain his objects. So you must discover in her, my friend, a fault self-caused, in order that through your friendship the king’s objects may be accomplished by me.” Having received this order from the excellent minister, the Bráhman-Rákshasa departed, and disguised by magic entered the house of Kalingasená.
In the meanwhile Somaprabhá, her friend, the daughter of the Asura Maya, went again into the presence of Kalingasená. And the daughter of Maya, after asking her friend what had happened in the night, said to her who had abandoned her relations, in the hearing of that Rákshasa—“I came here in the forenoon after searching for you, but I remained concealed at your side, seeing Yaugandharáyaṇa. However I heard your conversation, and I understood the whole state of affairs. So why did you make this attempt yesterday though you were forbidden to do so by me? For any business which is undertaken, my friend, without first counteracting the evil omen, will end in calamity; as a proof of this, hear the following tale:”
Story of the Bráhman’s son Vishṇudatta and his seven foolish companions.
Long ago there lived in Antarvedi a Bráhman named Vasudatta, and he had a son born to him named Vishṇudatta. That Vishṇudatta, after he reached the age of sixteen years, set out for the city of Vallabhí in order to acquire learning. And there joined him seven other young Bráhmans his fellows, but those seven were fools, while he was wise and sprung from a good family. After they had taken an oath not to desert one another, Vishṇudatta set out with them at night without the knowledge of his parents. And after he had set forth, he saw an evil omen presenting itself in front of him, and he said to those friends of his who were travelling with him,—“Ha! Here is a bad omen! it is advisable to turn back now; we will set out again with good hope of success, when we have auspicious omens with us.” When those seven foolish companions heard that, they said, “Do not entertain groundless fear, for we are not afraid of the omen. If you are afraid, do not go, but we will start this moment; to-morrow morning our relations will abandon us, when they hear of our proceedings.” When those ignorant creatures said that, Vishṇudatta set out with them, urged on by his oath, but he first called to mind Hari, the dispeller of sin. And at the end of the night he saw another evil omen, and again mentioned it, and he was rebuked by all those foolish friends of his in the following words; “This is our evil omen, you coward afraid to travel, that you have been brought by us, since you shudder at a crow at every step you take; we require no other evil omen.” Having reviled him in these words, they continued their journey and Vishṇudatta went with them, as he could not help it, but kept silence, reflecting—“One ought not to give advice to a fool bent on going his own crooked way, for it only entails ridicule, being like the beautifying of ordure. A single wise man fallen among many fools, like a lotus in the path of the waves, is surely overwhelmed. So I must not henceforth give these men either good or bad advice, but I must go on in silence; destiny will educe prosperity.” Engaged in these reflections, Vishṇudatta proceeded on the way with those fools, and at the end of the day he reached a Śavara village. There he wandered about in the night and reached a certain house inhabited by a young woman, and asked the woman for a lodging there. She gave him a room, and he entered it with his friends, and those seven in a moment went to sleep. He alone remained awake, as he had entered a house belonging to a savage. For the stupid sleep resolutely, how can the understanding sleep?