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

by active 11th century Somadeva Bhatta

Ṭhiṇṭhákarála for his part, smitten with the poison of separation from her, could neither hear nor see, but rolled swooning on the ground. And when that gambler came to his senses, he uttered this lament, “Alas! fool that I was, I revealed the secret, though I knew better all the time; for how can people like myself, who are by nature thoughtless, shew self-restraint? So now this intolerable separation has fallen to my lot.” However in a moment he said to himself, “This is no time for me to despond; why should I not recover firmness and strive to put an end to her curse?”

After going through these reflections, the cunning fellow thought carefully over the matter, and assuming the dress of a mendicant devotee, went with rosary, antelope-skin, and matted hair, to Nágapura. There he secretly buried in a forest outside the city, four pitchers containing his wife’s ornaments, one towards each of the cardinal points; and one full of sets of the five precious things[14] he deliberately buried within the city, in the earth of the market-place, in front of the god himself.

When he had done this, he built a hut on the bank of the river, and remained there, affecting a hypocritical asceticism, pretending to be meditating and muttering. And by bathing three times in the day, and eating only the food given him as alms, after washing it with water on a stone, he acquired the character of a very holy man.

In course of time his fame reached the ears of the king, and the king often invited him, but he never went near him: so the king came to see him, and remained a long time in conversation with him. And in the evening, when the king was preparing to depart, a female jackal suddenly uttered a yell at a distance. When the cunning gambler, who was passing himself off as an ascetic, heard that, he laughed. And when the king asked him the meaning of the laugh, he said, “Oh! never mind.” But when the king went on persistently questioning him, the deceitful fellow said, “In the forest to the east of this city, under a ratan, there is a pitcher full of jewelled ornaments; so take it. This, king, is what that female jackal told me, for I understand the language of animals.”

Then the king was full of curiosity: so the ascetic took him to the spot, and dug up the earth, and took out that pitcher, and gave it to him. Then the king, having obtained the ornaments, began to have faith in the ascetic, and considered that he not only possessed supernatural knowledge but was a truthful and unselfish devotee. So he conducted him to his cell, and prostrated himself at his feet again and again, and returned to his palace at night with his ministers, praising his virtues.

In the same way, when the king again came to him, the ascetic pretended to understand the cry of an animal, and in this way made over to the king the other three pitchers, buried towards the other three cardinal points. Then the king, and the citizens, and the king’s wives became exclusively devoted to the ascetic, and were, so to speak, quite absorbed in him.

Now, one day, the king took that wicked ascetic to the temple for a moment; so he contrived to hear in the market-place the cry of a crow. Then he said to the king, “Did you hear what the crow said? ‘In this very market-place there is a pitcher full of valuable jewels buried in front of the god: why do you not take it up also?’ This was the meaning of his cry; so come, and take possession of it.” When the deceitful ascetic had said this, he conducted him there, and took up out of the earth the pitcher full of valuable jewels, and gave it to the king. Then the king, in his excessive satisfaction, entered the temple holding that pretended seer by the hand.

There the mendicant brushed against that image on the pillar, which his beloved Kalávatí had entered, and saw her. And Kalávatí, wearing the form of the image on the pillar, was afflicted when she saw her husband, and began to weep then and there. When the king and his attendants saw this, they were amazed, and cast down, and said to that pretended seer, “Reverend Sir, what is the meaning of this?” Then the cunning rascal, pretending to be despondent and bewildered, said to the king, “Come to your palace: there I will tell you this secret, though it is almost too terrible to be revealed.”

When he had said this, he led the king to the palace, and said to him, “Since you built this temple on an unlucky spot and in an inauspicious moment, on the third day from now a misfortune will befall you. It was for this reason that the image on the pillar wept when she saw you. So, if you care for your body’s weal, my sovereign, take this into consideration, and this very day quickly level this temple with the earth; and build another temple somewhere else, on a lucky spot, and in an auspicious moment. Let the evil omen be averted, and ensure the prosperity of yourself and your kingdom.” When he had said this to the king, he, in his terror, gave command to his subjects, and in one day levelled that temple with the earth, and he began to build another temple in another place. So true is it that rogues with their tricks gain the confidence of princes, and impose upon them.

Accordingly, the gambler Ṭhiṇṭhákarála, having gained his object, abandoned the disguise of a mendicant, and fled, and went to Ujjayiní. And Kalávatí, finding it out, went to meet him on the road, freed from her curse and happy, and she comforted him, and then went to heaven to visit Indra. And Indra was astonished, but when he heard from her mouth the artifice of her husband the gambler, he laughed and was highly delighted. Then Vṛihaspati, who was at his side, said to Indra, “Gamblers are always like this, abounding in every kind of trickery.”