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

by active 11th century Somadeva Bhatta

And his father Jyotishprabha, seeing that he was brave, young, beloved by the subjects, and able to bear the weight of empire, gladly anointed him crown-prince. And he gave him as minister the virtuous Priyankara, the son of his own minister named Prabhákara. On that occasion Mátali descended from the heaven with a celestial horse, and coming up to Somaprabha, said to him: “You are a Vidyádhara, a friend of Indra’s, born on earth, and he has sent you an excellent horse named Áśuśravas, the son of Uchchhaiḥśravas, in memory of his former friendship; if you mount it, you will be invincible by your foes.” After the charioteer of Indra had said this, he gave Somaprabha that splendid horse, and after receiving due honour, he flew up to heaven again.

Then Somaprabha spent that day pleasantly in feasting, and the next day said to his father the king; “My father, the duty of a Kshatriya is not complete without a desire for conquest, so permit me to march out to the conquest of the regions.” When his father Jyotishprabha heard that, he was pleased, and consented, and made arrangements for his expedition. Then Somaprabha bowed before his father, and marched out on an auspicious day, with his forces, for the conquest of the regions, mounted on the horse given by Indra. And by the help of his splendid horse, he conquered the kings of every part of the world, and being irresistible in might, he stripped them of their jewels. He bent his bow and the necks of his enemies at the same time; the bow was unbent again, but the heads of his enemies were never again uplifted.

Then, as he was returning in triumph, on a path which led him near the Himálayas, he made his army encamp, and went hunting in a wood. And as chance would have it, he saw there a Kinnara, made of a splendid jewel, and he pursued him on his horse given by Indra, with the object of capturing him. The Kinnara entered a cavern in the mountain, and was lost to view, but the prince was carried far away by that horse.

And when the sun, after diffusing illumination over the quarters of the world, had reached the western peak, where he meets the evening twilight, the prince, being tired, managed, though with difficulty, to return, and he beheld a great lake, and wishing to pass the night on its shores, he dismounted from his horse. And after he had given grass and water to the horse, and had taken fruits and water himself, and felt rested, he suddenly heard from a certain quarter the sound of a song. Out of curiosity he went in the direction of the sound, and saw at no great distance a heavenly nymph, singing in front of a linga of Śiva. He said to himself in astonishment, “Who may this lovely one be?” And she, seeing that he was of noble appearance, said to him bashfully—“Tell me, who are you? How did you reach alone this inaccessible place?” When he heard this, he told his story, and asked her in turn, “Tell me, who are you and what is your business in this wood?” When he asked this question, the heavenly maiden said—“If you have any desire, noble sir, to hear my tale, listen, I will tell it;” after this preface she began to speak with a gushing flood of tears.

Episode of Manorathaprabhá and Raśmimat.

There is here, on the table-land of the Himálayas, a city named Kánchanábha, and in it there dwells a king of the Vidyádharas named Padmakúṭa. Know that I am the daughter of that king by his queen Hemaprabhá, and that my name is Manorathaprabhá, and my father loves me more than his life. I, by the power of my science, used to visit, with my female companions, the isles, and the principal mountains, and the woods, and the gardens, and after amusing myself, I made a point of returning every day at my father’s meal-time, at the third watch of the day, to my palace. Once on a time I arrived here as I was roaming about, and I saw on the shore of the lake a hermit’s son with his companion. And being summoned by the splendour of his beauty, as if by a female messenger, I approached him, and he welcomed me with a wistful look. And then I sat down, and my friend, perceiving the feelings of both, put this question to him through his companion, “Who are you, noble sir, tell me?” And his companion said; “Not far from here, my friend, there lives in a hermitage a hermit named Dídhitimat. He, being subject to a strict vow of chastity, was seen once, when he came to bathe in this lake, by the goddess Śrí, who came there at the same time. As she could not obtain him in the flesh, as he was a strict ascetic, and yet longed for him earnestly with her mind, she conceived a mind-born son. And she took that son to Dídhitimat, saying to him, ‘I have obtained this son by looking at you; receive it.’ And after giving the son to the hermit, Śrí disappeared. And the hermit gladly received the son, so easily obtained, and gave him the name of Raśmimat, and gradually reared him, and after investing him with the sacred thread, taught him out of love all the sciences. Know that you see before you in this young hermit that very Raśmimat the son of Śrí, come here with me on a pleasure journey.” When my friend had heard this from the youth’s friend, she, being questioned by him in turn, told my name and descent as I have now told it to you.

Then I and the hermit’s son became still more in love with one another from hearing one another’s descent, and while we were lingering there, a second attendant came and said to me, “Rise up, your father, fair one, is waiting for you in the dining-room of the palace.” When I heard that, I said—“I will return quickly,” and leaving the youth there, I went into the presence of my father out of fear. And when I came out, having taken a very little food, the first attendant came to me and said of her own accord: “The friend of that hermit’s son came here, my friend, and standing at the door of the court said to me in a state of hurried excitement—‘Raśmimat has sent me here now, bestowing on me the power of travelling in the air, which he inherits from his father, to see Manorathaprabhá: he is reduced to a terrible state by love and cannot retain his breath a moment longer, without that mistress of his life.’” The moment I heard this, I left my father’s palace, and, accompanied by that friend of the hermit’s son, who showed me the way, and my attendant, I came here, and when I arrived here, I saw that that hermit’s son, separated from me, had resigned, at the rising of the moon, the nectar of his life. So I, grieved by separation from him, was blaming my vital frame, and longing to enter the fire with his body. But at that very moment a man, with a body like a mass of flame, descended from the sky, and flew up to heaven with his body.

Then I was desirous to hurl myself into the fire alone, but at that moment a voice issued from the air here; “Manorathaprabhá, do not do this thing, for at the appointed time thou shalt be re-united to this thy hermit’s son.” On hearing this, I gave up the idea of suicide, and here I remain full of hope, waiting for him, engaged in the worship of Śiva. And as for the friend of the hermit’s son, he has disappeared somewhere.

When the Vidyádhara maiden had said this, Somaprabha said to her, “Then, why do you remain alone, where is that female attendant of yours?” When the Vidyádhara maiden heard this, she answered: “There is a king of the Vidyádharas, named Sinhavikrama, and he has a matchless daughter named Makarandiká; she is a friend of mine, dear as my life, who sympathizes with my grief, and she to-day sent her attendant to learn tidings of me. So I sent back my own attendant to her, with her attendant; it is for that reason that I am at present alone.” As she was saying this, she pointed out to Somaprabha her attendant descending from heaven. And she made the attendant, after she had told her news, strew a bed of leaves for Somaprabha, and also give grass to his horse.