While the Rishi was calling the king to account with such words as these, the king’s troops came up and asked to whom these words were being addressed. The king said that they were levelled at him, and asked what ought to be the punishment for such a calling to account. The answer was that the proper punishment was that of death. “In that case,” said the king, “I abandon the Rishi to it.” When the preparations were being made for [[84]]putting the Rishi to death, he formulated a curse, desiring that he, wheresoever he should be born again, might take the king’s life, inasmuch as that king of evil had ordered him to be put to death without his having committed any fault or done any harm. Moreover, he reflected that as such kings keep very much out of the way, and are greatly watched over and guarded, he would scarcely be able to find a fit opportunity if he were born again anywhere else, and that he must therefore be brought into the world by this king’s chief wife. By means of this curse he was brought into the world by Vāsavī.
On the day of his conception a rain of blood fell. Vāsavī was seized by a desire to cut flesh from the king’s back and eat it. When she had told the king of this, he called the soothsayers together and consulted them about it. They decided that it was caused by the influence of a being which had entered into his wife’s womb. The king sat absorbed in thought, meditating how he could satisfy her longing. Some sagacious persons advised him to have a cotton garment lined with raw meat, and to put it on, and then to offer the meat to his wife. Thereupon the king ordered a cotton garment to be lined with raw meat, and he put it on, and then offered Vāsavī the meat. She thought that it was the king’s own flesh, and so ate it, whereby she was freed from her longing.
Afterwards a longing came upon her to drink of her husband’s blood, and she told this to the king. The king had the veins opened in five of his limbs, and gave her the blood to drink, whereby she was freed from her longing.
When nine months had passed by, a fine, good-looking boy was born, and on the day of his birth there fell a rain of blood. The king called the soothsayers together and consulted them. They said, “O king, so far as we can learn from the words of wisdom, this son will undoubtedly [[85]]deprive his father of life, and then set the diadem on his own head and seize the sovereignty for himself.” The king thought, “As it could only be for the sake of the sovereignty that he would deprive me of life, he would surely not do so if I were myself to hand over the sovereignty to him.”
At that time there lived in Vaiśālī a Liććhavi named Mahānāman. In his park there was an Āmra grove, in which the park-watchers saw that a Kadalī tree had suddenly grown up. As it immediately began to put forth blossoms, the watchers were greatly astonished, and they told Mahānāman. He sent for the soothsayers and consulted them. They decided that he ought to have the tree watched, for it would burst open at the end of seven days, and from within it a maiden would come forth. The householder Mahānāman, marvelling greatly at this decision, set careful watchers over the grove and kept count of the days. When seven days had elapsed, he caused the park to be cleared of all stones, gravel, and rubble, and to be sprinkled with sandal-water, very fragrant incense to be provided, many silken hangings to be set up, and flowers to be freely strewn around. Then he and his wife went out in great state to the park, surrounded by friends and acquaintances, to the sound of song and all kinds of music. After he had there sported, rejoiced, and enjoyed himself, the stem of the Kadalī tree burst, and there came into sight out of it a beautiful maiden, lovely to look upon, perfect in all parts of her body. Mahānāman handed her over to his good wife, who said, “My lord, be pleased to give her a name.” Mahānāman said, “As this girl has been obtained from the Āmra grove, her name ought to be Āmrapālī.” Mahānāman returned home and took charge of Āmrapālī.
She grew up, and there came to woo her, from the Krauncha land and the Śākya land and many other lands, many kings’ sons, ministers’ sons, merchants, traders, and [[86]]caravan leaders. The householder Mahānāman reflected that those among them who did not obtain her would be offended, and that he had better ask the people for a legal decision. So when the people of Vaiśālī were gathered together he said, “Honourable Brahmans and householders, give ear! Having obtained a girl from my park, I have brought her up. As I am now thinking of giving her in marriage to some man of a family corresponding with my own, so let the people consider the matter.” The men of Vaiśālī replied, “O householder, the people long ago passed a law that a pearl of a woman was not to be given in marriage, but should be placed at the disposal of the people. Therefore you must bring forward the maiden, in order that we may see what she is like.”
After a time he came into the assembly with her. When the perfection of her youth and beauty was seen, all the people opened their eyes wide with astonishment, and when they had critically examined her, some of them cried, “O householder, this is a pearl of a woman, and therefore she belongs to the enjoyments of the people, and must not be married to any one.”
When Mahānāman had returned home in displeasure, and was sitting absorbed in thought, his cheek leaning upon his arm, Āmrapālī saw him, and asked why he was so dejected.
“O daughter, you have been recognised as a pearl of a woman, and therefore you belong to the enjoyments of the people, so that my wishes will not be fulfilled.”