But one day the minister of the king Tárávarman, who lived in the city of Tárápura, the excellent Bráhman Anantasvámin, came that way on business, with his elephants, horses and foot-soldiers, and entered the house of that merchant, being a friend of his. After he had rested, he saw the handsome boy Mahípála, engaged in muttering prayers and in sacrificing to the fire, and asked his story; then the Bráhman minister, finding that the boy was of his own caste, as he had no children, begged the boy and his sister from the merchant. Then the merchant, who was a Vaiśya, gave him the children, and Anantasvámin went with them to Tárápura. There Mahípála remained in the house of that minister, which abounded in wealth on account of its master’s knowledge, and was treated by him as a son.
And in the meanwhile Sinhadanshṭra, the king of the Bhillas, came to Chandrasvámin, who was in captivity in that village, and said to him; “Bráhman, I have been ordered in a dream by the Sun-god not to slay you but to set you free, after doing you honour. So rise up, and go where you please.” After saying this, he let him go, giving him pearls and musk, and supplying him with an escort through the forest. And Chandrasvámin, being thus set at liberty, not finding his son and his younger sister in the wood, wandered in search of them, and as he wandered he found a city named Jalapura on the shore of the sea, and entered as a guest the house of a certain Bráhman. There, after he had taken refreshment, and then told his story, the Bráhman, the master of the house, said to him; “A merchant named Kanakavarman came here some days ago; he found in the forest a Bráhman boy with his sister, and he has gone off with those two very handsome children to the great island of Nárikela, but he did not tell his name.” When Chandrasvámin heard that, he made up his mind that those children were his, and he determined to go to that beautiful island. And after he had spent the night, and looked about him, he made acquaintance with a merchant, named Vishṇuvarman, who was about to go to the isle of Nárikela. And with him he embarked in a ship, and went across the sea to the island, out of love for his children. When he began to enquire there, the merchants, who lived there, said to him; “It is true that a merchant named Kanakavarman did come here, with two beautiful Bráhman children, whom he found in a wood. But he has now gone with them to the island of Kaṭáha. When the Bráhman heard that, he went in a ship with the merchant Dánavarman to the island of Kaṭáha. There he heard that the merchant Kanakavarman had gone from that island to an island named Karpúra. In the same way he visited in turn the islands of Karpúra, Suvarṇa, and Sinhala with merchants, but he did not find the merchant whom he was in search of. But from the people of Sinhala he heard that that merchant Kanakavarman had gone to his own city, named Chitrakúṭa. Then Chandrasvámin went with a merchant, named Koṭíśvara, to Chitrakúṭa, crossing the sea in his ship. And in that city he found the merchant Kanakavarman, and longing for his children, he told him the whole story. Then Kanakavarman, when he knew the cause of his grief, showed him the children, whom he had found in the forest and brought away. But when Chandrasvámin looked at those two children, he saw that they were not his, but some other children. Then he, being afflicted with tears and grief, lamented in desperate mood—“Alas! though I have wandered so far, I have not found my son or my daughter. Malignant Providence, like a wicked master, has held out hopes to me but has not fulfilled them, and has made me wander far and wide on a false surmise.” While he was indulging in such lamentations, he was at last, though with difficulty, consoled by Kanakavarman, and exclaimed in his grief, “If I do not find those children in a year, by wandering over the earth, I will abandon the body by austerities on the bank of the river Ganges. When he said this, a certain seer there said to him, “Go, you will recover your children by the favour of Náráyaṇí. When he heard that, he was delighted, remembering the compassion shown him by the sun, and he departed from that city, honoured by the merchants.
Then, searching the lands which were royal grants to Bráhmans, and the villages and the towns, he reached one evening a wood with many tall trees in it. There he made a meal on fruits and water, and climbed up into a tree to spend the night there, dreading the lions, and tigers, and other noisome beasts. And being sleepless, he saw in the night at the foot of the tree a great body of divine Mothers assembled, with Náráyaṇí at their head; waiting for the arrival of the god Bhairava, having brought with them all kinds of presents suited to their resources. And thereupon the Mothers asked Náráyaṇí why the god delayed, but she laughed and gave no reason. And being persistently questioned by them, she answered—“He has stopped to curse a Guhyaka who has incurred his displeasure.”[3] And on account of that business some delay has taken place about his arrival, but know that he will be here soon. While Náráyaṇí was saying this to the Mothers, there came there Bhairava[4] the lord of the company of Mothers. And he, having been honoured with gifts by all the Mothers, spent some time in dancing, and sported with the witches.
And while Chandrasvámin was surveying that from the summit of a tree, he saw a slave belonging to Náráyaṇí, and she saw him. And as chance would have it, they fell in love with one another, and the goddess Náráyaṇí perceived their feelings. And when Bhairava had departed, accompanied by the witches, she, lingering behind, summoned Chandrasvámin who was on the tree. And when he came down, she said to him and her slave: “Are you in love with one another?” And they confessed the truth, and said they were, and thereupon she dismissed her anger and said to Chandrasvámin, “I am pleased with thee for confessing the truth, so I will not curse thee, but I will give thee this slave, live in happiness.” When the Bráhman heard this, he said—“Goddess, though my mind is fickle, I hold it in check, I do not touch a strange woman. For this is the nature of the mind, but bodily sin should be avoided.” When that firm-souled Bráhman said this, the goddess said to him—“I am pleased with thee and I give thee this boon: thou shalt quickly find thy children. And receive from me this unfading lotus that destroys poison.” When the goddess had said this, she gave the Bráhman Chandrasvámin a lotus, and disappeared from his eyes.
And he, having received the lotus, set out, at the end of the night, and roaming along reached the city of Tárápura, where his son Mahípála and his daughter were living in the house of that Bráhman minister Anantasvámin. There he went and recited at the door of that minister, in order to obtain food, having heard that he was hospitable. And the minister, having been informed by the door-keepers, had him introduced by them, and when he saw that he was learned, invited him to dinner. And when he was invited, having heard that there was a lake there, named Anantahrada, that washed away sin, he went to bathe there. While he was returning after bathing, the Bráhman heard all round him in the city a cry of grief. And when he asked the cause, the people said to him—“There is in this city a Bráhman boy, of the name of Mahípála, who was found in the forest by the merchant Sárthadhara. The minister Anantasvámin, observing that he had auspicious marks, with some difficulty begged him and his sister from the merchant, and brought them both here. And being without a son, he has adopted the boy, whose excellent qualities have endeared him to king Tárávarman and his people. To-day he has been bitten by a poisonous snake; hence the cry of grief in the city.” When Chandrasvámin heard that, he said to himself, “This must be my son,” and reflecting thus, he went to the house of that minister as fast as he could. There he saw his son surrounded by all, and recognized him, and rejoiced, having in his hand the lotus that was an antidote to snake-poison. And he put that lotus to the nose of that Mahípála, and the moment he smelt it, he was free from the effects of poison. And Mahípála rose up, and was as one who had just awoke from sleep,[5] and all the people in the city, and the king rejoiced. And Chandrasvámin was honoured with wealth by Anantasvámin, the king, and the citizens, who said “This is some incarnation of the divinity.” And he remained in the house of the minister in great comfort, honoured by him, and he saw his son Mahípála and his daughter Chandravatí. And the three, though they mutually recognized one another, said nothing, for the wise have regard to what is expedient, and do not discover themselves out of season.
Then the king Tárávarman, being highly pleased with the virtues of Mahípála, gave him his daughter Bandhumatí. Then that king, after giving him the half of the kingdom, being pleased with him, laid the whole burden of the kingdom upon him, as he had no other son. And Mahípála, after he had obtained the kingdom, acknowledged his father, and gave him a position next to his, and so lived in happiness.
One day his father Chandrasvámin said to him, “Come, let us go to our own country to bring your mother. For if she hears that you are the occupant of a throne, having been long afflicted, she might think, ‘How comes it that my son has forgotten me,’ and might curse you in her anger. But one who is cursed by his father and mother does not long enjoy prosperity. In proof of this hear this tale of what happened long ago to the merchant’s son.”
Story of Chakra.[6]
In the city of Dhavala there was a merchant’s son, named Chakra. He went on a trading voyage to Svarṇadvípa against the will of his parents. There he gained great wealth in five years, and in order to return embarked on the sea in a ship laden with jewels. And when his voyage was very nearly at an end, the sea rose up against him, troubled with a great wind, and with clouds and rain. And the huge billows broke his vessel, as if angry because he had come against the wish of his parents. Some of the passengers were whelmed in the waves, others were eaten by sea-monsters. But Chakra, as his allotted term of life had not run out, was carried to the shore and flung up there by the waves. While he was lying there in a state of exhaustion, he saw as if in a dream, a man of black and terrible appearance come to him, with a noose in his hand. Chakra was caught in the noose by that man, who took him up and dragged him a long distance to a court presided over by a man on a throne. By the order of the occupant of the throne, the merchant’s son was carried off by that noose-bearer, and flung into a cell of iron.