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

by active 11th century Somadeva Bhatta

Story of the magic globule.

There was in the kingdom of Nepála a city named Śivapura, and in it there lived of old time a king rightly named Yaśaḥketu. He devolved upon his minister, named Prajnáságara, the burden of his kingdom, and enjoyed himself in the society of his queen Chandraprabhá. And in course of time that king had born to him, by that queen, a daughter named Śaśiprabhá, bright as the moon, the eye of the world.

Now in course of time she grew up to womanhood, and one day, in the month of spring, she went to a garden, with her attendants, to witness a festive procession. And in a certain part of that garden a Bráhman, of the name of Manaḥsvámin, the son of a rich man, who had come to see the procession, beheld her engaged in gathering flowers, raising her lithe arm, and displaying her graceful shape; and she looked charming when the grasp of her thumb and forefinger on the stalks of the flowers relaxed. When the young man Manaḥsvámin saw her, she at once robbed him of his heart, and he was bewildered by love and no longer master of his feelings.[1] He said to himself, “Can this be Rati come in person to gather the flowers accumulated by spring, in order to make arrows for the god of love? Or is it the presiding goddess of the wood, come to worship the spring?” While he was making these surmises, the princess caught sight of him. And as soon as she saw him, looking like a second god of love created with a body, she forgot her flowers, and her limbs, and her own personal identity.

While those two were thus overpowered by the passion of mutual love at first sight, a loud shout of alarm was raised, and they both looked with uplifted heads to see what it could mean. Then there came that way an elephant, rushing along with its elephant-hook hanging down, that driven furious by perceiving the smell of another elephant,[2] had broken its fastenings, and rushed out in a state of frenzy, breaking down the trees in its path, and had thrown its driver. The princess’s attendants dispersed in terror, but Manaḥsvámin eagerly rushed forward, and took her up alone in his arms, and while she clung timidly to him, bewildered with fear, love, and shame, carried her to a distance, out of reach of the elephant. Then her attendants came up and praised that noble Bráhman, and conducted her back to her palace. But as she went, she frequently turned round to look at her deliverer. There she remained, thinking regretfully of that man who had saved her life, consumed day and night by the smouldering fire of love.

And Manaḥsvámin then left that garden, and seeing that the princess had entered her private apartments, he said to himself, in regretful longing, “I cannot remain without her, nay I cannot live without her: so my only resource in this difficulty is the cunning Múladeva, who is a master of magic arts.” Having thus reflected, he managed to get through that day, and the next morning he went to visit that master of magic, Múladeva. And he saw that master, who was ever in the company of his friend Śaśin, full of many marvellous magic ways, like the sky come down to earth in human shape.[3] And he humbly saluted him, and told him his desire; then the master laughed, and promised to accomplish it for him. Then that matchless deceiver Múladeva placed a magic globule[4] in his mouth, and transformed himself into an aged Bráhman; and he gave the Bráhman Manaḥsvámin a second globule to put in his mouth, and so made him assume the appearance of a beautiful maiden. And that prince of villains took him in this disguise to the judgment-hall of the king, the father of his lady-love, and said to him,“O king, I have only one son, and I asked for a maiden to be given him to wife, and brought her from a long distance; but now he has gone somewhere or other, and I am going to look for him; so keep this maiden safe for me until I bring back my son, for you keep safe under your protection the whole world.”[5] When king Yaśaḥketu heard this petition, he granted it, fearing a curse if he did not, and summoned his daughter Śaśiprabhá, and said to her; “Daughter, keep this maiden in your palace, and let her sleep and take her meals with you.” The princess agreed, and took Manaḥsvámin transformed into a maiden to her own private apartments; and then Múladeva, who had assumed the form of a Bráhman, went where he pleased, and Manaḥsvámin remained in the form of a maiden with his beloved.[6]

And in a few days the princess became quite fond of and intimate with her new attendant; so, one night when she was pining at being separated from the object of her affections, and tossing on her couch, Manaḥsvámin, who was on a bed near her, concealed under a female shape, said secretly to her, “My dear Śa[s’]iprabhá, why are you pale of hue, and why do you grow thinner every day, and sorrow as one separated from the side of her beloved? Tell me, for why should you distrust loving modest attendants? From this time forth I will take no food until you tell me.”

When the princess heard this, she sighed, and slowly told the following tale; “Why should I distrust you of all people? Listen, friend, I will tell you the cause. Once on a time I went to a spring garden to see a procession, and there I beheld a handsome young Bráhman, who seemed like the month of spring, having the loveliness of the moon free from dew, kindling love at sight, adorning the grove with play of light. And while my eager eyes, drinking in the nectarous rays of the moon of his countenance, began to emulate the partridge, there came there a mighty elephant broken loose from its bonds, roaring and distilling its ichor like rain, looking like a black rain-cloud appearing out of season. My attendants dispersed terrified at that elephant, but when I was bewildered with fear, that young Bráhman caught me up in his arms and carried me to a distance. Then contact with his body made me feel as if I were anointed with sandal-wood ointment, and bedewed with ambrosia, and I was in a state which I cannot describe. And in a moment my attendants re-assembled, and I was brought back reluctant to this my palace, and seemed to myself to have been cast down to earth from heaven. From that time forth I have often interviews in reveries with my beloved, that rescued me from death, and even when awake I seem to see him at my side. And when asleep I see him in dreams, coaxing me and dispelling my reserve with kisses and caresses. But, ill-fated wretch that I am, I cannot obtain him, for I am baffled by ignorance of his name and other particulars about him. So I am consumed, as you see, by the fire of separation from the lord of my life.”

When Manaḥsvámin’s ears had been filled with the nectar of this speech of the princess’s, that Bráhman, who was present there in female form, rejoiced, and considered that his object was attained, and that the time had come for revealing himself, so he took out the globule from his mouth, and displayed himself in his true form, and said; “Rolling-eyed one, I am that very Bráhman, whom you bought with a look in the garden, and made your slave in the truest sense of the word. And from the immediate interruption of our acquaintance I derived that sorrow, of which the final result was my taking, as you see, the form of a maiden. Therefore, fair one, grant that the sorrow of separation, which both of us have endured, may not have been borne in vain, for Cupid cannot endure beyond this point.” When the princess suddenly beheld her beloved in front of her, and heard him utter these words, she was at once filled with love, astonishment, and shame. So they eagerly went through the Gándharva ceremony of marriage. Then Manaḥsvámin lived happily in the palace, under two shapes; keeping the globule in his mouth during the day and so wearing a female shape, but at night taking it out, and assuming the form of a man.

Now, as days went on, the brother-in-law of king Yaśaḥketu, named Mṛigánkadatta, gave his own daughter, named Mṛigánkavatí, in marriage to a young Bráhman, the son of the minister Prajnáságara: and with her he bestowed much wealth. And the princess Śaśiprabhá was invited, on the occasion of her cousin’s marriage, to her uncle’s house, and went there accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting. And among them went the young Bráhman, Manaḥsvámin, wearing the attractive form of a young maiden of exquisite beauty.