May that victor of obstacles,[1] who after sweeping away the stars with his trunk in the delirious joy of the evening dance, seems to create others with the spray issuing from his hissing[2] mouth, protect you.
After worshipping the goddess of Speech, the lamp that illuminates countless objects,[3] I compose this collection which contains the pith of the Vṛíhat-Kathá.
The first book in my collection is called Kathápíṭha, then comes Kathámukha, then the third book named Lávánaka, then follows Naraváhanadattajanana, and then the book called Chaturdáriká, and then Madanamanchuká, then the seventh book named Ratnaprabhá, and then the eighth book named Súryaprabhá, then Alankáravatí, then Śaktiyaśas, and then the eleventh book called Velá, then comes Śaśánkavatí, and then Madirávatí, then comes the book called Pancha followed by Mahábhisheka, and then Suratamanjarí, then Padmávatí, and then will follow the eighteenth book Vishamaśíla.
This book is precisely on the model of that from which it is taken, there is not even the slightest deviation, only such language is selected as tends to abridge the prolixity of the work; the observance of propriety and natural connexion, and the joining together of the portions of the poem so as not to interfere with the spirit of the stories, are as far as possible kept in view: I have not made this attempt through desire of a reputation for ingenuity, but in order to facilitate the recollection of a multitude of various tales.
There is a mountain celebrated under the name of Himavat, haunted by Kinnaras, Gandharvas, and Vidyádharas, a very monarch of mighty hills, whose glory has attained such an eminence among mountains that Bhavání the mother of the three worlds deigned to become his daughter; the northernmost summit thereof is a great peak named Kailása, which towers many thousand yojanas in the air,[4] and as it were, laughs forth with its snowy gleams this boast—“Mount Mandara[5] did not become white as mortar even when the ocean was churned with it, but I have become such without an effort.” There dwells Maheśvara the beloved of Párvatí, the chief of things animate and inanimate, attended upon by Gaṇas, Vidyádharas and Siddhas. In the upstanding yellow tufts of his matted hair, the new moon enjoys the delight of touching the eastern mountain yellow in the evening twilight. When he drove his trident into the heart of Andhaka, the king of the Asuras, though he was only one, the dart which that monarch had infixed in the heart of the three worlds was, strange to say, extracted. The image of his toe-nails being reflected in the crest-jewels of the gods and Asuras made them seem as if they had been presented with half moons by his favour.[6] Once on a time that lord, the husband of Párvatí, was gratified with praises by his wife, having gained confidence as she sat in secret with him; the moon-crested one attentive to her praise and delighted, placed her on his lap, and said, “What can I do to please thee?” Then the daughter of the mountain spake—“My lord, if thou art satisfied with me, then tell me some delightful story that is quite new.” And Śiva said to her, “What can there be in the world, my beloved, present, past, or future that thou dost not know?” Then that goddess, beloved of Śiva, importuned him eagerly because she was proud in soul on account of his affection.
Then Śiva wishing to flatter her, began by telling her a very short story, referring to her own divine power.
“Once on a time[7] Brahmá and Náráyaṇa roaming through the world in order to behold me, came to the foot of Himavat. Then they beheld there in front of them a great flame-linga;[8] in order to discover the end of it, one of them went up, and the other down; and when they could not find the end of it, they proceeded to propitiate me by means of austerities: and I appeared to them and bade them ask for some boon: hearing that Brahmá asked me to become his son; on that account he has ceased to be worthy of worship, disgraced by his overweening presumption.
“Then that god Náráyaṇa craved a boon of me, saying—Oh revered one, may I become devoted to thy service! Then he became incarnate, and was born as mine in thy form; for thou art the same as Náráyaṇa, the power of me all-powerful.
“Moreover thou wast my wife in a former birth.” When Śiva had thus spoken, Párvatí asked, “How can I have been thy wife in a former birth?” Then Śiva answered her. “Long ago to the Prajápati Daksha were born many daughters, and amongst them thou, O goddess! He gave thee in marriage to me, and the others to Dharma and the rest of the gods. Once on a time he invited all his sons-in-law to a sacrifice. But I alone was not included in the invitation; thereupon thou didst ask him to tell thee why thy husband was not invited. Then he uttered a speech which pierced thy ears like a poisoned needle; ‘Thy husband wears a necklace of skulls; how can he be invited to a sacrifice?’
“And then thou, my beloved, didst in anger abandon thy body, exclaiming,—‘This father of mine is a villain; what profit have I then in this carcase sprung from him?’