Chapter CV.
May Śiva, the granter of boons, who, when pleased, bestowed on Umá half his own body, grant you your desire!
May the vermilion-stained trunk which Gaṇeśa at night throws up in the dance, and so seems to furnish the moon-umbrella with a coral handle, protect you!
Then Naraváhanadatta, son of the king of Vatsa, possessing as his wives those various ladies, the most beautiful in the three worlds, and Madanamanchuká as his head-queen, dwelt with Gomukha and his other ministers in Kauśámbí, having his every want supplied by his father’s magnificent resources. His days passed pleasantly in dancing, singing, and conversation, and were enlivened by the exquisite enjoyment of the society of the ladies whom he loved.
Then it happened one day that he could not find his principal charmer Madanamanchuká anywhere in the female apartments, nor could her attendants find her either.[1] When he could not see his beloved, he became pale from grief, as the moon loses its beauty in the morning, by being separated from the night. And he was distracted by an innumerable host of doubts, saying to himself, “I wonder whether my beloved has hidden herself somewhere to ascertain my sentiments towards her; or is she indignant with me for some trifling fault or other; or is she concealed by magic, or has she been carried off by some one?” When he had searched for her, and could not find her anywhere, he was consumed by violent grief for his separation from her, which raged in his bosom like a forest conflagration. His father, the king of Vatsa, who came to visit him, as soon as he knew the state of affairs, and his mothers, ministers, and servants were all beside themselves. The pearl necklace, sandal-wood ointment, the rays of the moon, lotus-fibres and lotus-leaves did not alleviate his torture, but rather increased it. As for Kalingasená, when she was suddenly deprived of that daughter, she was confounded like a Vidyádharí, who has lost her magic power.
Then an aged female guardian of the women’s apartments said in the presence of Naraváhanadatta, so that all there heard, “Long ago, that young Vidyádhara, named Mánasavega, having beheld Madanamanchuká, when she was a maiden, on the top of the palace, suddenly descended from heaven, and approaching Kalingasená, told her his name, and asked her to give him her daughter. When Kalingasená refused, he went as he came; but why should he not have now come secretly and carried her off by his magic power? It is of course true that heavenly beings do not carry off the wives of others; on the other hand, who, that is blinded by passion, troubles himself about the right or wrong of an action?” When Naraváhanadatta heard this, his heart was overwhelmed with anger, impatience, and the sorrow of bereavement, and became like a lotus in the waves.
Then Rumaṇvat said, “This palace is guarded all round, and it is impossible to enter or go out from it, except through the air. Moreover, by the favour of Śiva no misfortune can befall her; so we may be certain that she has hidden herself somewhere, because her affection has been wounded. Listen to a story which will make this clear.”