Chapter XLIII.
The next morning, Naraváhanadatta rose up from the bank of that lake,[1] and setting out on his journey, said to his minister Gomukha; “My friend, I remember, a certain princess of heavenly beauty, dressed in white garments, came to me towards the end of last night in a dream, and said this to me—‘Lay aside your anxiety, dear one, for you will quickly reach a large and wonderful town situated in a forest, on the shore of the sea. And after resting there, you shall with ease find that town Karpúrasambhava, and then win that princess Karpúriká.’ Having said this, she disappeared, and I immediately woke up.” When he said that, Gomukha was delighted and said to him—“King, you are favoured by the gods; what is difficult to you? So your enterprise will certainly succeed without difficulty.” When Gomukha had said this, Naraváhanadatta hastened along the path with him. And in course of time he reached a city of vast extent on the shore of the sea, furnished with lofty mansions resembling the peaks of mountains, with streets, and arches, adorned with a palace all golden like mount Meru, looking like a second Earth. He entered that city by the market-street, and beheld that all the population, merchants, women, and citizens were wooden automata, that moved as if they were alive, but were recognised as lifeless by their want of speech. This aroused astonishment in his mind. And in due course he arrived with Gomukha near the king’s palace, and saw that all the horses and elephants there were of the same material; and with his minister he entered, full of wonder, that palace, which was resplendent with seven ranges of golden buildings. There he saw a majestic man sitting on a jewelled throne, surrounded by warders and women, who were also wooden automata, the only living being there, who produced motion in those dull material things, like the soul presiding over the senses. He, for his part, seeing that that hero Naraváhanadatta was of noble form, rose up and welcomed him, and made him sit down on his own seat, and sitting in front of him, he thus questioned him, “Who are you; how and why have you come to this uninhabited land with one companion?” Then Naraváhanadatta told his own story from the beginning, and asked that hero, who was prostrating himself before him,—“Who are you, my good sir, and what is this wonderful city of yours? Tell me.” That man, when he heard that, began to tell his own story.
Story of the two brothers Práṇadhara and Rájyadhara.
There is a city named Kánchí possessed of great excellences,[2] which, like a girdle, well adorns the earth-bride. In it there was a famous king of the name of Báhubala, who won fortune by the might of his arm, and imprisoned her in his treasury, though she is a gadding dame. We were two brothers in his kingdom, carpenters by trade, skilful in making ingenious automata of wood and other materials, such as Maya[3] first invented. My elder brother was by name Práṇadhara, and he was infatuated with love for a fickle dame, and I, my lord, am named Rájyadhara, and I was ever devoted to him. That brother of mine consumed all my father’s property and his own, and some portion of what I had acquired, which melted by affection I made over to him. Then he, being much infatuated about the lady, out of desire to steal wealth for her sake, made a couple of swans of wood with mechanism and strings attached to them. That pair of swans was sent out at night by pulling the strings, and entering by means of the mechanical contrivance into the king’s treasury through a window, they took from it with their beaks jewels placed in a basket, and returned to the house of my brother. And my elder brother sold the jewels and spent the money so acquired with his paramour, and in that way he robbed the king’s treasury every night, and though I tried to prevent him, he would not give up that improper proceeding, for who, when blinded by passion, distinguishes between right and wrong? And then the keeper of the treasury, as the king’s treasure-house was plundered night after night without the bolt being moved, though there were no mice in it, for several days in succession enquired into the matter, without saying anything, out of fear, and then being exceedingly vexed, went and told the whole matter plainly to the king. Then the king posted him and some other guards in the treasure-house at night, with orders to keep awake in order to find out the truth of it. Those guards went into the treasure-house at midnight, and while there, saw my brother’s two swans entering there by the window, impelled by strings. The swans moved round by means of their mechanism and took the jewels, then the guards cut the strings, and took the swans to shew the king in the morning. And then my elder brother said in a state of bewilderment—“Brother, my two swans have been seized by the guards of the treasury, for the strings have become slack, and the pin of the mechanism has dropped. So we must both of us leave this place immediately, for the king, when he hears of it in the morning, will punish us as thieves. For we are both known to be skilled in mechanical contrivances. And I have here a chariot with a pneumatic contrivance, which quickly goes eight hundred yojanas, if you press a spring. Let us go by means of it to-day to a distant foreign land, though exile may be disagreeable; for how can an evil deed, that is done in despite of good advice, bring pleasure to any one? This is the mature fruit of my wickedness in not obeying your advice, which has extended to innocent you, as well as to me.” After saying this, my brother Práṇadhara immediately mounted with his family that chariot, that flew through the air. But though he urged me, I would not mount it, as it was laden with many people, so he flew up in it to the sky and went off to some distant place.
When that Práṇadhara,[4] who was rightly named, had gone off somewhere, I, expecting that in the morning I singly should he exposed to danger at the hands of the king, mounted another chariot with a pneumatic mechanism, which I had myself made, and quickly travelled two hundred yojanas from that place. Then I again started that air-travelling chariot, and went another two hundred yojanas. Then I left my chariot, terrified at finding that I was near the sea, and travelling on my feet, reached in course of time this city which was empty. And out of curiosity I entered this palace, which was filled with garments, ornaments, and couches and all the other conveniences fit for a king. And in the evening I bathed in the water of the garden-lake, and ate fruits, and going to the royal bed reflected alone at night—“What am I to do in this uninhabited spot? So to-morrow I will go hence to some place or other, for I no longer need fear danger from king Báhubala.” When I had thus reflected, I went to sleep, and towards the end of night a hero of divine appearance, mounted on a peacock, thus addressed me in a dream; “You must live here, good sir, you must not depart elsewhere, and at the time of meals you must go up to the middle court of the palace, and wait there.” Thus he spoke, and disappeared, and I woke up and reflected—“Undoubtedly this heavenly place has been made by Kártikeya, and he has favoured me with this dream on account of my merits in a former life. I have turned up here because I am to be happy dwelling in this town.” I conceived this hope and rose up, and said the prayer for the day, and at the time of eating I went up to the middle court, and while I was waiting there, golden dishes were placed in front of me, and there fell into them from heaven food consisting of ghee, milk, rice, boiled rice and other things;[5] and any other kinds of food that I thought of, came to me as fast as I thought of them. After eating all this, I felt comforted by the favour of the god. So, my lord, I took up my abode in this city, with kingly luxuries coming to me every day as fast as I wished for them. But I do not obtain wives and retinue by thinking of them, so I made all these people of wood. Though I am a carpenter, since I have come here I enjoy alone all the pleasures of a king by the power of Destiny, and my name is Rájyadhara.[6]
“So repose, now, a day in this god-built town, and I will attend upon you to the best of my ability.” After saying this, Rájyadhara led off with him Naraváhanadatta and Gomukha to the city garden, there the prince bathed in the water of the lake and offered lotuses to Śiva, and was conducted to the feasting-place in the middle court, and there he and his minister enjoyed viands which were placed before them by Rájyadhara, who stood in front of them, to whom they came as soon as he thought of them. Then the eating-ground was swept by some unseen hand, and after they had taken betel, they drank wine and remained in great felicity. And after Rájyadhara had eaten, the prince retired to a gorgeous couch, astonished at the wonderful nature of the town, which resembled the philosopher’s stone. And when he could not sleep, on account of his recently conceived longing for Karpúriká, Rájyadhara, who was also in bed, asked her story, and then said to him—“Why do you not sleep, auspicious sir? You will obtain your desired love. For a fair woman, like Fortune, of her own accord chooses a man of high courage. I have had ocular proof of this, so hear the story; I will relate it to you.”