The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story

by active 11th century Somadeva Bhatta

Then his friend, named Arthadatta, of his own accord came to him and said—“Friend, has all that training of yours, though painfully acquired from the kuṭṭiní, proved useless, now that the occasion has presented itself, as skill in the use of weapons does to a coward, in that you believe that there is sincerity in this love of a hetæra? Is water ever really found in desert-mirages? So let us go before all your wealth is consumed, for, if your father were to hear of it, he would be very angry.” When his friend said this to him, the merchant’s son said, “It is true that no reliance can be placed upon hetæræ as a rule, but Sundarí is not like the rest of her class, for, if she were to lose sight of me for a moment, my friend, she would die. So do you break it to her, if we must in any case go.”

When he said this to Arthadatta, Arthadatta said to Sundarí, in the presence of Íśvaravarman and her mother Makarakaṭí, “You entertain extraordinary affection for Íśvaravarman, but he must certainly go on a trading expedition to Svarṇadvípa immediately. There he will obtain so much wealth, that he will come and live with you in happiness all his life, consent to it, my friend.” When Sundarí heard this, she gazed on the face of Íśvaravarman with tears in her eyes and assumed despondency, and said to Arthadatta, “What am I to say? you gentlemen know best. Who can rely on any one before seeing the end? Never mind! Let fate deal with me as it will!” When she said this, her mother said to her, “Do not be grieved, control yourself; your lover will certainly return when he has made his fortune; he will not abandon you.” In these words her mother consoled her, but made an agreement with her, and had a net secretly prepared in a well, that lay in the road they must take. And then Íśvaravarman’s mind was in a state of tremulous agitation about parting, and Sundarí, as if out of grief, took but little food and drink. And she shewed no inclination for singing, music, or dancing, but she was consoled by Íśvaravarman with various affectionate attentions.

Then, on the day named by his friend, Íśvaravarman set out from the house of Sundarí, after the kuṭṭiní had offered a prayer for his success. And Sundarí followed him weeping, with her mother, outside the city, as far as the well in which the net had been stretched. There he made Sundarí turn back, and he was proceeding on his journey, when she flung herself into the well on the top of the net. Then a loud cry was heard from her mother, from the female slaves, and all the attendants, “Ah! my daughter! Ah! mistress!” That made the merchant’s son and his friend turn round, and when he heard that his beloved had thrown herself into a well, he was for a moment stupefied with grief. And Makarakaṭí, lamenting with loud cries, made her servants, who were attached to her, and in the secret, go down into the well. They let themselves down by means of ropes, and exclaiming, “Thank heaven, she is alive, she is alive,” they brought up Sundarí from the well. When she was brought up, she assumed the appearance of one nearly dead, and after she had mentioned the name of the merchant’s son, who had returned, she slowly began to cry. But he, being comforted, took her to her house in great delight, accompanied by his attendants, returning there himself. And having made up his mind that the love of Sundarí was to be relied on, and considering that, by obtaining her, he had obtained the real end of his birth, he once more gave up the idea of continuing his journey. And when he had taken up his abode there, determined to remain, his friend said to him once more, “My friend, why have you ruined yourself by infatuation? Do not rely on the love of Sundarí simply because she flung herself into a well, for the treacherous schemes of a kuṭṭiní are not to be fathomed even by Providence. And what what will you say to your father, when you have spent all your property, or where will you go? So leave this place even at this eleventh hour, if your mind is sound.” When the merchant’s son heard this speech of his friend’s, he paid no attention to it, and in another month he spent those other three crores. Then he was stripped of his all; and the kuṭṭiní Makarakaṭí had him seized by the back of the neck and turned out of Sundarí’s house.

But Arthadatta and the others quickly returned to their own city, and told the whole story, as it happened, to his father. His father Ratnavarman, that prince of merchants, was much grieved when he heard it, and in great distress went to the kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá, and said to her, “Though you received a large salary, you taught my son so badly, that Makarakaṭí has with ease stripped him of all his wealth.” When he had said this, he told her all the story of his son. Then the old kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá said: “Have your son brought back here; I will enable him to strip Makarakaṭí of all her wealth.” When the kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá made this promise, Ratnavarman quickly sent off that moment his son’s well-meaning friend Arthadatta with a message, to bring him, and to take at the same time means for his subsistence.

So Arthadatta went back to that city of Kánchanapura, and told the whole message to Íśvaravarman. And he went on to say to him—“Friend, you would not do what I advised you, so you have now had personal experience of the untrustworthy dispositions of hetæræ. After you had given that five crores, you were ejected neck and crop. What wise man looks for love in hetæræ or for oil in sand? Or why do you put out of sight this unalterable nature of things?[8] A man is wise, self-restrained, and possesses happiness, only so long as he does not fall within the range of woman’s cajoleries. So return to your father and appease his wrath.” With these words Arthadatta quickly induced him to return, and encouraging him, led him into the presence of his father. And his father, out of love for his only son, spoke kindly to him, and again took him to the house of Yamajihvá. And when she questioned him, he told his whole story by the mouth of Arthadatta, down to the circumstance of Sundarí’s flinging herself into the well, and how he lost his wealth. Then Yamajihvá said—“I indeed am to blame, because I forgot to teach him this trick. For Makarakaṭí stretched a net in the well, and Sundarí flung herself upon that, so she was not killed. Still there is a remedy in this case.” Having said this, the kuṭṭiní made her female slaves bring her monkey named Ála. And in their presence she gave the monkey her thousand dínárs, and said—“Swallow these,” and the monkey, being trained to swallow money, did so. Then she said, “Now, my son give twenty to him, twenty-five to him, and sixty to him, and a hundred to him.” And the monkey, as often as Yamajihvá told him to pay a sum, brought up the exact number of dínárs, and gave them as commanded.[9] And after Yamajihvá had shewn this device of Ála, she said to Íśvaravarman, “Now take with you this young monkey. And repair again to the house of Sundarí, and keep asking him day by day for sums of money, which you have secretly made him swallow. And Sundarí, when she sees Ála, resembling in his powers the wishing-stone, will beg for him, and will give you all she has so as to obtain possession of the ape, and clasp him to her bosom. And after you have got her wealth, make him swallow enough money for two days, and give him to her, and then depart to a distance without delay.”

After Yamajihvá had said this, she gave that ape to Íśvaravarman, and his father gave him two crores by way of capital. And with the ape and the money he went once more to Kánchanapura, and despatching a messenger on in front, he entered the house of Sundarí. Sundarí welcomed him as if he were an incarnation of perseverance, which includes in itself all means for attaining an end, and his friend with him, embracing him round the neck, and making other demonstrations. Then Íśvaravarman, having gained her confidence, said to Arthadatta in her presence in the house: “Go, and bring Ála.” He said, “I will,” and went and brought the monkey. And as the monkey had before swallowed a thousand dínárs, he said to him, “Ála, my son, give us to-day three hundred dínárs for our eating and drinking, and a hundred for betel and other expenses, and give one hundred to our mother Makarakaṭí, and a hundred to the Bráhmans, and give the rest of the thousand to Sundarí.” When Íśvaravarman said this, the monkey brought up the dínárs he had before swallowed, to the amounts ordered, and gave them for the various objects required.

So by this artifice Ála was made to supply every day the necessary expenses, for the period of a fortnight, and in the meanwhile Makarakaṭí[10] and Sundarí began to think; “Why this is a very wishing-stone which he has got hold of in the form of an ape, which gives every day a hundred dínárs; if he would only give it us, all our desires would be accomplished.” Having thus debated in private with her mother, Sundarí said to that Íśvaravarman, when he was sitting at his ease after dinner,—“If you really are well pleased with me, give me Ála.” But when Íśvaravarman heard that, he answered laughingly, “He is my father’s all in the world, and it is not proper to give him away.” When he said this, Sundarí said to him again, “Give him me and I will give you five crores.” Thereupon Íśvaravarman said with an air of decision, “If you were to give me all your property, or indeed this city, it would not do to give him you, much less for your crores.” When Sundarí heard this, she said, “I will give you all I possess; but give me this ape, otherwise my mother will be angry with me.” And thereupon she clung to Íśvaravarman’s feet. Then Arthadatta and the others said, “Give it her, happen what will.” Then Íśvaravarman promised to give it her, and he spent the day with the delighted Sundarí. And the next day he gave to Sundarí, at her earnest entreaties, that ape, which had in secret been made to swallow two thousand dínárs, and he immediately took by way of payment all the wealth in her house, and went off quickly to Svarṇadvípa to trade.

And to Sundarí’s delight, the monkey Ála, when asked, gave her regularly a thousand dínárs for two days. But on the third day he did not give her anything, though coaxed to do it, then Sundarí struck the ape with her fist. And the monkey, being beaten, sprang up in a rage, and bit and scratched the faces of Sundarí and her mother, who were thrashing him. Then the mother, whose face was streaming with blood, flew in a passion and beat the ape with sticks, till he died on the spot. When Sundarí saw that he was dead, and reflected that all her wealth was gone, she was ready to commit suicide for grief, and so was her mother. And when the people of the town heard the story, they laughed and said, “Because Makarakaṭí took away this man’s wealth by means of a net, he in his turn has stripped her of all her property, like a clever fellow that he is, by means of a pet; she was sharp enough to net him, but did not detect the net laid for herself. Then Sundarí, with her scratched face and vanished wealth, was with difficulty restrained by her relations from destroying herself, and so was her mother. And Íśvaravarman soon returned from Svarṇadvípa to the house of his father in Chitrakúṭa. And when his father saw him returned, having acquired enormous wealth, he rewarded the kuṭṭiní Yamajihvá with treasure, and made a great feast. And Íśvaravarman, seeing the matchless deceitfulness of hetæræ, became disgusted with their society, and taking a wife remained in his own house.[11]

“So you see, king, that there never dwells in the minds of hetæræ even an atom of truth, unalloyed with treachery, so a man who desires prosperity should not take pleasure in them, as their society is only to be gained by the wealthy, any more than in uninhabited woods to be crossed only with a caravan.[12]”

“When Naraváhanadatta heard, from the mouth of Marubhúti, the above story, word for word, of Ála and the net, he and Gomukha approved it, and laughed heartily.