Story of Sávitrí and Angiras.
Once on a time a hermit, named Angiras, asked Ashṭávakra for the hand of his daughter Sávitrí. But Ashṭávakra would not give him his daughter Sávitrí, though he was an excellent match, because she was already betrothed to some one else. Then Angiras married Aśrutá his brother’s daughter, and lived a long time with her as his wife in great happiness; but she was well aware that he had previously been in love with Sávitrí.
One day that hermit Angiras remained muttering for a long time in an inaudible voice. Then his wife Aśrutá asked him again and again lovingly, “Tell me, my husband, why do you remain so long fixed in thought?” He said, “My dear, I am meditating on the Sávitrí;” and she, thinking that he meant Sávitrí, the hermit’s daughter, was vexed in soul. She said to herself, “He is miserable,” so she went off to the forest determined to abandon the body; and after she had prayed that good fortune might attend her husband, she fastened a rope round her neck. And at that moment Gáyatrí appeared with rosary of aksha-beads and ascetic’s pitcher, and said to her, “Daughter, do not act rashly! Your husband was not thinking of any woman; he was meditating on me, the holy Sávitrí;” and with these words she freed her neck from the noose; and the goddess, merciful to her votaries, having thus consoled her, disappeared. Then her husband Angiras, searching for her, found her in the wood, and brought her home. So you see that women in this world cannot endure the wounding of their affections.
“So you may be certain that this wife of the prince is angry on account of some trifling injury, and is hidden somewhere in this place; for she is under the protection of Śiva; and we must again search for her.”
When Rumaṇvat said this, the sovereign of Vatsa said, “It must be so: for no misfortune can befall her, inasmuch as a heavenly voice said ‘This Madanamanchuká is an incarnation of Rati, appointed by the god to be the wife of Naraváhanadatta, who is an emanation of the god of Love, and he shall rule the Vidyádharas with her as his consort for a kalpa of the gods,’ and this utterance cannot be falsified by the event. So let her be carefully looked for.” When the king himself said this, Naraváhanadatta went out, though he was in such a miserable state.
But, however much he searched for her, he could not find her, so he wandered about in various parts of the grounds, like one distracted; when he went to her dwelling, the rooms with closed doors seemed as if they had shut their eyes in despair at beholding his grief; and when he went about in the groves asking for her, the trees, agitating their shoots like hands seemed to say, “We have not seen your beloved.” When he searched in the gardens, the sárasa-birds, flying up to the sky, seemed to tell him that she had not gone that way. And his ministers Marubhúti, Hariśikha, Gomukha, and Vasantaka wandered about in every direction to find her.
In the meanwhile an unmarried Vidyádharí, of the name of Vegavatí, having beheld Madanamanchuká in her splendid and glorious beauty, deliberately took her shape, and came and stood alone in the garden under an aśoka-tree. Marubhúti saw her, as he was roaming about in search of the queen, and she seemed at once to extract the dart from his pierced heart. And in his joy he went to Naraváhanadatta, and said to him, “Cheer up, I have seen your beloved in the garden.” When he said this, Naraváhanadatta was delighted, and immediately went with him to that garden.
Then, exhausted with long bereavement, he beheld that semblance of Madanamanchuká, with feelings like those with which a thirsty traveller beholds a stream of water. And the moment he beheld her, the much afflicted prince longed to embrace her, but she, being cunning and wishing to be married by him, said to him, “Do not touch me now, first hear what I have to say. Before I married you, I prayed to the Yakshas to enable me to obtain you, and said, ‘On my wedding-day I will make offerings to you with my own hand.’ But, my beloved, when my wedding-day came, I forgot all about them. That enraged the Yakshas, and so they carried me off from this place. And they have just brought me here, and let me go, saying, ‘Go and perform over again that ceremony of marriage, and make oblations to us, and then repair to your husband; otherwise you will not prosper.’ So marry me quickly, in order that I may offer the Yakshas the worship they demand; and then fulfil all your desire.”
When Naraváhanadatta heard that, he summoned the priest Śántisoma and at once made the necessary preparations, and immediately married the supposed Madanamanchuká, who was no other than the Vidyádharí Vegavatí, having been for a short time quite cast down by his separation from the real one. Then a great feast took place there, full of the clang of cymbals, delighting the king of Vatsa, gladdening the queens, and causing joy to Kahngasená. And the supposed Madanamanchuká, who was really the Vidyádharí Vegavatí, made with her own hand an offering of wine, flesh, and other dainties to the Yakshas. Then Naraváhanadatta, remaining with her in her chamber, drank wine with her in his exultation, though he was sufficiently intoxicated with her voice. And then he retired to rest with her, who had thus changed her shape, as the sun with the shadow. And she said to him in secret, “My beloved, now that we have retired to rest, you must take care not to unveil my face suddenly and look at me while asleep[2].” When the prince heard this, he was filled with curiosity, to think what this might be, and the next day he uncovered her face while she was asleep, and looked at it, and lo! it was not Madanamanchuká, but some one else, who, when asleep, had lost the power of disguising her appearance by magic.[3] Then she woke up, while he was sitting by her awake. And he said to her, “Tell me, who are you?” And the discreet Vidyádharí seeing him sitting up awake, and being conscious that she was in her own shape and that her secret was discovered, began to tell her tale saying, “Listen, my beloved, I will now tell you the whole story.”
“There is in the city of the Vidyádharas a mountain of the name of Ásháḍhapura. There dwells a chief of the Vidyádharas, named Mánasavega, a prince puffed up with the might of his arm, the son of king Vegavat. I am his younger sister, and my name is Vegavatí. And that brother of mine hated me so much that he was not willing to bestow on me the sciences. Then I obtained them, though with difficulty, from my father, who had retired to a wood of ascetics, and, thanks to his favour, I possess them of greater power than any other of our race. I myself saw the wretched Madanamanchuká, in the palace of mount Ásháḍha, in a garden, surrounded by sentinels, I mean your beloved, whom my brother has carried off by magic, as Rávaṇa carried off the afflicted Sítá, the wife of Rámabhadra. And as the virtuous lady repels his caresses, he cannot subdue her to his will, for a curse has been laid upon him, that will bring about his death, if he uses violence to any woman.