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

by active 11th century Somadeva Bhatta

The first Bráhman’s story.

There is in the territory of Kalinga a city of the name of Śobhávatí, which has never been entered by the demon Kali, nor touched by evildoers, nor seen by a foreign foe: such has it been made by the Creator. In it there was a wise and rich Bráhman, of the name of Yaśaskara, who had offered many sacrifices, and he had an excellent wife named Mekhalá. I was born to them as an only son, when they were already in middle life, and I was in due course reared up by them, and invested with the sacrificial thread.

Then, while as a boy I was studying the Vedas, there arose a mighty famine in that land, owing to drought. So my father and my mother went off with me to a city named Viśálá, taking with them their wealth and their servants. In that city, in which fortune and learning dwelt together, having laid aside their long feud, my father established himself, having had a house given him by a merchant, who was a friend of his. And I dwelt there in the house of my preceptor, engaged in the acquisition of learning, in the society of my fellow-students of equal age.

And among them I had a friend, a promising young man of the military caste, Vijayasena by name, the son of a very rich Kshatriya. And one day the unmarried sister of that friend of mine, whose name was Madirávatí, came with him to my teacher’s house. So beautiful was she that I feel convinced that the Creator made the orb of the moon, that is like nectar to the eyes of men, out of the overflowing of the perfect loveliness of her face. I ween, the god of Love, when he beheld her form, which was to him a sixth weapon, bewildering the world, valued but little his other five shafts. When I saw her, and heard from that friend her name and descent, I was at once overpowered by Love’s potent sway, and my mind was altogether fixed upon her. And she, for her part, looked askance at me with modest loving eye, and the down standing erect on her cheeks told that love had begun to sprout. And after she had remained there a long time on the pretext of play, she at last tore herself away and went home, sending to me from the reverted corner of her eye a look that was a messenger of love.

Then I went home, grieved at having to part with her, and throwing myself flat, I tossed up and down convulsively like a fish on dry land. I said to myself, “Shall I ever again behold her face, which is the Creator’s storehouse of all the nectar of beauty? Happy are her companions[5] whom she looks at with that laughing eye, and talks freely to with that mouth.” Engaged in such thoughts as these, I with difficulty got through that day and night, and on the second day I went to the house of my teacher.

There my friend Vijayasena approached me courteously, and in the course of a confidential conversation, said to me joyfully, “My mother has heard from my sister Madirávatí that you are so great a friend of mine, and being full of love for you, she wishes to behold you; so, if you have any regard for me, come with me to our house; let it be adorned for us with the dust of your lotus-like foot.” This speech of his was a sudden refreshment to me, as an unexpected heavy shower of rain is to a traveller in the desert. So I consented, and went to his house, and there I had an interview with his mother, and was welcomed by her, and remained there gladdened by beholding my beloved.

Then Vijayasena, having been summoned by his father, left me, and the foster-sister of Madirávatí came to me, and said, bowing before me, “Prince, the princess Madirávatí trained up to maturity in our garden a jasmine creeper; and it has recently produced a splendid crop of flowers, which laugh and gleam with joyous exultation at being united with the spring. To-day the princess herself has gathered its buds, in defiance of the bees that settled on the flowers; and she has threaded them, like pearls, into a necklace, and she sends this to you her old friend as a new present.” When that dexterous girl had said this, she gave me the garland, and with it leaves of the betel, together with camphor and the five fruits. So I threw round my neck the garland, which my beloved had made with her own hand, and I enjoyed exceeding pleasure, surpassing the joy of many embraces.[6] And putting the betel into my mouth, I said to that dear companion of hers, “What can I say more than this, my good girl? I have in my heart such intense love for your companion, that, if I could sacrifice my life for her, I should consider that it had not been given me in vain; for she is the sovereign of my being.” When I had said this, I dismissed her, and I went to my teacher’s house with Vijayasena, who had that moment come in.

The next day Vijayasena came with Madirávatí to our house, to the great delight[7] of my parents. So the love of myself and Madirávatí, though carefully concealed, increased every day from being in one another’s society.

And one day a servant of Madirávatí’s said to me in secret, “Listen, noble sir, and lay up[8] in your heart what I am going to tell you. Ever since my darling Madirávatí beheld you there in your teacher’s house, she has no appetite for her food, she does not adorn herself, she takes no pleasure in music, she does not play with her parrots and other pets; she finds that fanning with plantain leaves, and moist anointings with sandal-wood ointment, and the rays of the moon, though cool as snow, torture her with heat; and every day she grows perceptibly thinner, like the streak of the moon in the black fortnight, and the only thing that seems to give her any relief is conversation about you; this is what my daughter told me, who knows all that she does, who attends her like a shadow, and never leaves her side. Moreover, I drew Madirávatí herself into a confidential conversation, and questioned her, and she confessed to me that her affections were fixed on you. So now, auspicious sir, if you wish her life to be saved, take steps to have her wishes fulfilled.” This nectarous speech of hers delighted me, and I said, “That altogether depends on you, I am completely at your disposal.” When she heard this, she returned delighted, and I, relying on her, conceived hopes, and went home with my mind at ease.

The next day an influential young Kshatriya came from Ujjayiní and asked Madirávatí’s father for her hand. And her father promised to give him his daughter; and I heard that news, terrible to my ears, from her attendants. Then I was for a long time amazed, as if fallen from heaven, as if struck with a thunderbolt, as if possessed by a demon. But I recovered, and said to myself, “What is the use of bewilderment now? I will wait and see the end. It is the self-possessed man that gains his desire.”