Thereupon Garuda said: Stay with me for a little in the meanwhile, till I see what I can do. And he summoned all the sea-birds and the vultures in the world; and said to them: Go to the eight quarters of heaven, and find out what has become of Makarandiká, a Widyádharí who is lost.
So then, after a few days, they returned. And their spokesman, who was a very old vulture named Dirghadarshi,[31] said: Lord, this has been a very simple thing. For some of my people saw her, a little while ago, flying westwards. And following her track, on thy order, they saw her sitting on the palace roof of King Arunodaya, who has married her, and made her his queen.
And instantly, hearing this news, which pierced his ear like a poisoned needle, Smaradása uttered a loud cry, and fell down in a swoon: so great was the shock, that turned in the twinkling of an eye all the love in his soul to jealousy and hate. And when, with difficulty, he came to himself, he hurried away so fast that he forgot even to worship Garuda. But that kindly deity only laughed, and forgave him, saying: Well might he forget not me only, but everything in the three worlds, on learning that his love was lying in somebody else's arms.
But Smaradása summoned instantly all his brother suitors. And he told them all about it, and he said: This matter is no longer what it was. For if she flouted us all, by refusing to choose a husband from among us, yet no one could compel her, since she did but exercise the privilege of all kings' daughters. But now, not only has she placed this mortal above us all, but by marrying beneath her caste, she has degraded all the Widyádharas at once, and broken the constitution of the universe. Therefore she deserves to be punished. Moreover, she is at our mercy, since she has lost all her magic sciences, by marrying a man.
So then, when they had all unanimously pronounced her worthy of death, one suggesting one death, and another another, Smaradása said scornfully: What is the use of putting her to death? For death is absolutely no punishment at all, since she will abandon one body only to enter another. Rather let us find some punishment suited to her crime, and worse than any death. And the best way would be, to contrive some means of making her behaviour recoil upon her own head. And this could be done, if only we could get this husband she has chosen to desert her for another. For as a rule, a rival is like kálakuta poison to every woman: and she is not only jealous, but as it were jealousy itself. And thus she would become her own punishment. But first let us discover all about her: for then we can determine how to go to work.
So, when they all consented, Smaradása went back to Garuda, and he said: O Enemy of Snakes, do me one more favour, and I will trouble thee no more. Find out for me only, how matters stand with her husband and herself: since her independent conduct is a matter of concern to all the Widyádharas, of whom she is one.
And Garuda said: Smaradása, this commission is very different from the first. For if I am not mistaken, the Widyádharas mean mischief, and it is no business of mine. And yet, I will not do thee kindness by halves: but let this be the last. So after meditating for a while, he sent for the crows. And he said to them: Crows, you know everything about everybody, and see the world, and fly about the streets of cities, and eat the daily offerings,[32] and listen to all the scandal of the bazaars, and penetrate even into the palaces of kings. Go, then, to the city of Arunodaya, and spy about and listen, and bring back a full account of all you can discover, about him and his wife.
And, after a week, the crows returned. And their spokesman, who was called Kálapaksha,[33] said: Lord, this King and Queen are never apart, being as inseparable as Ardhanári.[34] And as for Makarandiká, it is clear that she is a patidewatá, who loves her husband more than her own soul. And though he has nothing to do with any woman but herself, yet something is wrong, though we cannot discover what it is. But the citizens think that she is jealous, because she suspects that he is always dreaming, not of her, but the wife of his former birth.
And as Smaradása listened, he exclaimed in delight: Ha! what difficulty is there in doing a thing which is half done already? For this is a situation which will ripen almost without assistance, resembling as it does a balance already trembling, in which the addition of a single hair will turn the scale. And it wants only a touch, for Makarandiká to turn her suspicions into certainties of her own accord. And thus she will become the instrument of her own torture, and expiate her error, the victim of her own choice, with nobody but herself to blame. For she was a Widyádharí, and is absolutely inexcusable.