Once on a time the king, attracted by his affection for the daughters, went to the hermitage of the great ascetic to learn whether his daughters were in poverty or happiness. Repairing there he beheld a number of crystal palaces, brilliant as the rays of the sun and picturesque gardens and tanks. Entering one of the palaces and embracing his daughter, the king said to her with tears of affection and delight in his eyes—"Dear child, tell me how are you here. Are you happy here or not? Does the great sage treat you kindly? Do you remember thy early home?" Being thus addressed the daughter said to her father—"O father, this palace is picturesque surrounded by charming gardens with birds emitting sweet notes, and tanks abounding in full-blown lotuses. I have got here rich viands, fragrant unguents, precious ornaments, costly clothes, soft beds and every other thing that wealth can give. But still then, why should I not remember my early home. By thy favour I have obtained all these things. But there is one source of my grief—my husband never goes out of my house. He is solely attached to me and is always at my side; he never goes to my sisters; for this my sisters are sorry; this is the only cause of my uneasiness". Being thus addressed he went to the second palace and embracing his daughter and taking his seat he put the same question. The same account of the enjoyment of palaces and other things was given by her; she also made the same complaint that the sage was solely attached to her and paid no attention to her sisters. Hearing this the king went round all the palaces, put the same question to all his daughters and received the same reply. Having his heart filled with satisfaction and wonder he repaired to the glorious Saubhari who was alone and reverentially said to him—"O illustrious sage, marvellous is thy power—I have never seen this in any other person. Oh great is the reward of thy austere penances". Having bowed unto the sage and been welcomed by him with great reverence the king lived with him for some time and enjoying the pleasures of the place returned to his capital.
As time went on the daughters of Māndhāta bore to Saubhari one hundred and fifty sons. Gradually he became more and more attached to his children and his mind was wholly engrossed with selfish thoughts. He always used to think—"When will these sons of mine speak to me in sweet accents? When will they learn to walk? When will they attain to youth? When shall I see them wedded? When shall I behold them with their sons?" With these anticipations, he spent some time and at last thought "What exceeding folly is mine! There is no end of desires even in ten thousand or a hundred thousand years. With one desire gratified another springs up. I have seen my infants walk—I have seen their youth, their manhood, their marriage, their children, still my desires are not gratified and mind longs after seeing the descendants of their descendants. When I shall see them another desire will spring up. When that is satisfied another wish will be engendered.
"How can the growth of desires be prevented? I have now learnt that there is no end of desires till death. His mind can never be devoted to the supreme spirit who is a perpetual slave of desires. My devotions, whilst I was in the waters, were thwarted by my attachment to my friend, the fish. The outcome of that connection was my marriage and the result of that marriage is the cycle of worldly desires. Birth with one body is a source of many ills. By my marriage with the princesses I have got one hundred and fifty sons so my miseries have been multiplied to that extent. And they will be infinitely multiplied by their children, by their wives and their progeny—thus a married life is a source of individual anxiety. My devotions, which I practised in the waters, have been thwarted by my worldly wealth and I have been beguiled by the desire for the progeny which was created in me by the association with Sammada. For the ascetics separation from the world is the only way to liberation; association with others is a source of many evils. Even the most accomplished ascetic is degraded by worldly attachments what to speak of those whose observances are incomplete. Though my intellect has been possessed by the desire of married life still I shall exert myself for the salvation of my soul so that freed from human infirmities I may be released from human sufferings. For that purpose by austere penances I shall propitiate Vishnu, the creator of the universe whose form cannot be ascertained, who is smaller than the smallest, larger than the largest, the source of darkness and light—the king of gods. May my mind, freed from sins, be devoted to his body which is both descrete and indescrete substance, boundlessly mighty, at one with the universe so that I may not be born again. I seek the refuge of that Vishnu, who is the teacher of teachers, who is identical with, all beings, the pure eternal lord of all, without beginning, middle or end and besides whom there exists nothing".
SECTION III.
Parāçara said—Having thus thought within himself Sauvari renounced his children, his home, his splendour and wealth and repaired with his wives to the forest. Having daily performed there the observances of the ascetics called Vaikhānasas (or ascetics having families) he cleansed himself from all iniquities. When his mind was ripe and freed from passions he concentrated in his spirit the sacramental fires and became a religious mendicant. Then having made over all his actions to the glorious god he attained to the condition of Achyuta which is above change, the vicissitudes of birth, transmigration or death. Whoever shall read, hear, remember, or understand this story of Sauvari and his marriage with the daughters of Māndhāta, shall never, for eight successive births, be addicted to evil thoughts nor shall he act unrighteously, nor shall he think of improper objects—nor shall he be subject to selfishness; I shall now describe to you the progeny of Māndhāta.
The son of Ambarisha, the son of Māndhāta, was Yuvanāswa; his son was Harita from whom sprang Angirāsa Hāritas.
In the regions below the earth, the Gandharvas named Mauneyas, six million in number, had defeated the snake-gods, usurped their kingdom and stolen away all their precious jewels. Defeated by the Gandharvas the serpent chiefs addressed the lord of celestials, sleeping on the surface of the ocean of milk as he awoke from his sleep; and the blossoms of his lotus eyes opened as he listened to their hymns.
They all bowing said—"How shall we be relieved from the fear of these Gandharvas?" Where to the glorious god replied—"I shall enter into the person of Purukutsa, the son of Māndhāta, the son of Yuvanāswa and slay all the Gandharvas". On hearing these words the snake-gods bowed and went away and returning to their country sent Narmadā to secure the help of Purukutsa.
Accordingly Narmadā went to Purukutsa and led him to the regions below the earth, where, being filled with the energy of Vishnu he slew all the Gandharvas. He then returned to his own house. And the snake-gods conferred upon Narmadā a boon that whosoever should think of her, mention her name, should never have any fear from the snakes. This is the invocation: "Salutation unto Narmadā in the morning; salutation unto Narmadā at night, salutation to thee O Narmadā, save me from this serpent's poison". Whoever shall repeat this day and night shall not be bitten by a serpent in the dark or in entering a room. Nor shall he, who shall remember this, suffer from poison, when he eats even food mixed with it. They also conferred a boon on Purukutsa that none in this family shall be bitten.
Purukutsa begot on Narmadā a son, named Trasadasya, whose son was Sambbuta, whose son was Anaranja, who was killed by Rāvana when he traversed the country for conquests. Anaranja's son was Prishadaswa; his son was Haryyaswa; his son was Sumanas; his son was Tridhanwan; his son was Trayyaruna; his son was was Satyavrata who received the name of Trisanku and was degraded to the state of a Chandāla or outcast. Once on a time there was a famine for twelve years. He used to suspend flesh upon a fig-tree on the banks of the Ganges for the wife and children of Viswamitra—he did not give it with his own hands for he might not accept the present of a Chandāla. For this Viswamitra was highly pleased and took him in his living body to heaven.