Story of the young fisher man who married a princess.
Long ago there lived in Rájagṛiha a king named Malayasinha, and he had a daughter named Máyávatí of matchless beauty. One day a young man of the fisher-caste, named Suprahára, who was in the bloom of youth and good looks, saw her as she was amusing herself in a spring-garden. The moment he saw her, he was overpowered by love; for destiny never considers whether a union is possible or impossible. So he went home, and abandoning his occupation of catching fish, he took to his bed, and refused to eat, thinking only on the princess. And when persistently questioned, he told his wish to his mother named Rakshitiká, and she said to her son, “My son, abandon your despondency, and take food; I will certainly compass this your end for you by my ingenuity.”
When she said this to him, he was consoled, and cherished hopes, and took food; and his mother went to the palace of the princess with fish from the lake.[14] There that fisher-wife was announced by the maids, and went in, on the pretext of paying her respects, and gave the princess that present of fish. And in this way she came regularly day after day, and made the princess a present, and so gained her goodwill, and made her desirous of speaking. And the pleased princess said to the fisher-wife, “Tell me what you wish me to do; I will do it, though it be ever so difficult.”
Then the fisher-wife begged that her boldness might be pardoned, and said in secret to the princess, “Royal lady, my son has seen you in a garden, and is tortured by the thought that he cannot be near you; and I can only manage to prevent his committing suicide by holding out hopes to him; so, if you feel any pity for me, restore my son to life by touching him.” When the princess was thus entreated by the fisher-wife, hesitating between shame and a desire to oblige, after reflection, she said to her, “Bring your son to my palace secretly at night.” When the fisher-wife heard this, she went in high spirits to her son.
And when night came, she deliberately adorned her son as well as she could, and brought him to the private apartments of the princess. There the princess took Suprahára, who had pined for her so long, by the hand, and affectionately welcomed him, and made him lie down on a sofa, and comforted him whose limbs were withered by the fire of separation, by shampooing him with her hand, the touch of which was cool as sandal-wood. And the fisher-boy was thereby, as it were, bedewed with nectar, and thinking that after long waiting he had attained his desire, he took his rest, and was suddenly seized by sleep. And when he was asleep, the princess escaped, and slept in another room, having thus pleased the fisher-boy, and having avoided being disgraced through him.
Then that son of the fisher-folk woke up, owing to the cessation of the touch of her hand, and not seeing his beloved, who had thus come within his grasp, and again vanished, like a pot of treasure in the case of a very poor man, who is despondent for its loss, he was reft of all hope, and his breath at once left his body. When the princess found that out, she came there, and blamed herself, and made up her mind to ascend the funeral pyre with him next morning.
Then her father, king Malayasinha, heard of it, and came there, and finding that she could not be turned from her resolve, he rinsed his mouth, and spake this speech; “If I am really devoted to the three-eyed god of gods, tell me, ye guardians of the world, what it is my duty to do.” When the king said this, a heavenly voice answered him, “Thy daughter was in a former life the wife of this son of the fisher-folk.
“For, long ago, there lived in a village, called Nágasthala, a virtuous Bráhman of the name of Baladhara, the son of Mahídhara. When his father had gone to heaven, he was robbed of his wealth by his relations, and being disgusted with the world, he went with his wife to the bank of the Ganges. While he was remaining there without food, in order to abandon the body, he saw some fishermen eating fish, and his hunger made him long for it in his heart. So he died with his mind polluted by that desire, but his wife kept her aspirations pure, and continuing firm in penance, followed him in death.[15]
“That very Bráhman, owing to that pollution of his desires, has been born in the fisher-caste. But his wife, who remained firm in her asceticism, has been born as thy daughter, O king. So let this blameless daughter of thine, by the gift of half her life,[16] raise up this dead youth, who was her husband in a former life. For, owing to the might of her asceticism, this youth, who was thus purified by the splendour of that holy bathing-place, shall become thy son-in-law, and a king.”