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

by active 11th century Somadeva Bhatta

Chapter LXXI.

Then, as Mṛigánkadatta was journeying to Ujjayiní, with Śrutadhi and Vimalabuddhi, to find Śaśánkavatí, he reached the Narmadá which lay in his path. The fickle stream, when she beheld him, shook her waves like twining arms, and gleamed white with laughing foam, as if she were dancing and smiling because he had so fortunately been reunited with his ministers. And when he had gone down into the bed of the river to bathe, it happened that a king of the Śavaras, named Máyávaṭu, came there for the same purpose. When he had bathed, three water-genii[1] rose up at the same time and seized the Bhilla, whose retinue fled in terror. When Mṛigánkadatta saw that, he went into the water with his sword drawn, and killed those water-genii, and delivered that king of the Bhillas. When the king of the Bhillas was delivered from the danger of those monsters, he came up out of the water and fell at the feet of the prince, and said to him,—“Who are you, that Providence has brought here to save my life on the present occasion? Of what virtuous father do you adorn the family? And what is that country favoured by fortune to which you are going?” When he said this, Śrutadhi told him the prince’s whole story from the beginning, and then the Śavara king shewed him exceeding respect, and said to him; “Then I will be your ally in this undertaking which you have in view, as you were directed by the god, and with me will come my friend Durgapiśácha the king of Mátangas. So do me the favour, my lord, of coming to my palace, since I am your slave.”

Thus he entreated Mṛigánkadatta with various humble speeches, and then took him to his own village. And there he entertained the prince fittingly with all the luxuries he could command, and all the people of the village shewed him respect. And the king of the Mátangas came and honoured him as the saviour of his friend’s life, and placed his head on the ground to shew that he was his slave. Then Mṛigánkadatta remained there some days, to please that Máyávaṭu, the king of the Bhillas.

And one day, while he was staying there, that king of the Śavaras began to gamble with Chaṇḍaketu his own warder. And while he was playing, the clouds began to roar, and the domestic peacocks lifted up their heads and began to dance, and king Máyávaṭu rose up to look at them. Then the warder, who was an enthusiastic gambler, said to his sovereign, “What is the use, my master, of looking at these peacocks which are not skilled in dancing? I have a peacock in my house, to which you would not find an equal in the world. I will show it you to-morrow, if you take pleasure in such things.” When the king heard that, he said to the warder, “You must certainly shew it to me,” and then he set about the duties of the day. And Mṛigánkadatta, when he heard all that, rose up with his companions, and performed his duties such as bathing and eating.

The adventures of Mṛigánkadatta and the warder.

And when the night came, and thick darkness was diffused over the face of things, the prince went out alone and self-impelled from the chamber in which his companions were sleeping, in search of adventures, with his body smeared with musk, wearing dark-blue garments and with his sword in his hand. And as he was roaming about, a certain man, who was coming along the road and did not see him on account of the darkness, jostled against him, and struck his shoulder against his. Then he rushed at him angrily and challenged him to fight. But the person challenged, being a man not easily abashed, made an appropriate reply, “Why are you perplexed by want of reflection? If you reflect, you will see that you ought to blame the moon for not lighting up this night, or the Governor of the world for not appointing that it should rule with full sway here,[2] since in such darkness causeless quarrels take place.”

Mṛigánkadatta was pleased with this clever answer and he said to him, “You are right. Who are you?” The man answered, “I am a thief.” Whereupon the prince said falsely, “Give me your hand, you are of the same profession as myself.” And the prince made an alliance with him, and went along with him out of curiosity, and at last reached an old well covered with grass. And there the man entered a tunnel, and Mṛigánkadatta went along it with him, and reached the harem of that king Máyávaṭu. And when he got there, he recognized the man by the light of the lamp, and lo! it was the warder Chaṇḍaketu, and not a robber. But the warder, who was the secret paramour of the king’s wife, did not recognize the prince, because he had other garments on than those he usually wore,[3] and kept in a corner where there was not much light.

But the moment the warder arrived, the king’s wife, who was named Manjumatí, and was desperately in love with him, rose up and threw her arms round his neck. And she made him sit down on a sofa, and said to him, “Who is this man that you have brought here to-day?” Then he said to her, “Make your mind easy, it is a friend of mine.” But Manjumatí said excitedly, “How can I, ill-starred woman that I am, feel at ease, now that this king has been saved by Mṛigánkadatta, after entering the very jaws of death?” When the warder heard her say that, he answered, “Do not grieve, my dear! I will soon kill the king and Mṛigánkadatta too.” When he said this, she answered, as fate would have it, “Why do you boast? When the king was seized that day by monsters in the water of the Narmadá, Mṛigánkadatta alone was ready to rescue him; why did you not kill him then? The fact is, you fled in fear. So be silent, lest some one hear this speech of yours, and then you would certainly meet with calamity at the hands of Mṛigánkadatta, who is a brave man.” When she said this, her paramour the warder lost his temper with her. He said, “Wretched woman, you are certainly in love with Mṛigánkadatta, so receive now from me the just recompense of that taunt.” And he rose up to kill her, dagger in hand. Then a maid, who was her confidante, ran and laid hold of the dagger with her hand and held it. In the meanwhile Manjumatí escaped into another room. And the warder dragged the dagger out of the maid’s hand, cutting her fingers in the process; and returned home by the way which he came, somewhat confused, with Mṛigánkadatta, who was much astonished.

Then Mṛigánkadatta, who could not be recognized in the darkness, said to the warder, “You have reached your own house, so I will leave you.” But the warder said to the prince, “Sleep here to-night, without going further, for you are very tired.” Then the prince consented, as he wished to learn something of his goings on; and the warder called one of his servants and said to him, “Take this man to the room where the peacock is, and let him rest there and give him a bed.” The servant said—“I will do as you command,” and took the prince to the room and placed a light in it, and gave him a bed. He then departed, fastening the outer door with a chain, and Mṛigánkadatta saw the peacock there in a cage. He said to himself, “This is the very peacock, that the warder was speaking of,” and out of curiosity he opened its cage. And the peacock came out and, after looking intently at Mṛigánkadatta, it fell down and rolled at his feet again and again. And as it was rolling, the prince saw a string tied round its neck and at once untied it, thinking that it gave the bird pain. The peacock, the moment that the thread was loosed from its neck, became before his eyes his minister Bhímaparákrama. Then Mṛigánkadatta embraced the affectionate minister, who bowed before him, and in his astonishment said to him, “Tell me, friend, what is the meaning of this?” Then Bhímaparákrama said to him in his delight, “Listen, prince, I will tell you my story from the beginning.”