Simhasana Dvatrimsika Read online

  At this time Vikramaditya returned from abroad. No one could recognize him as he came in the guise of a common man. He enquired from the ministers why the kingdom was rulerless. They told him about the problem caused by the genie.

  ‘Then, make me the king today,’ Vikrama said to the ministers. And, thinking that here was someone with heroic qualities who might be able to save the situation, they installed him as king straightaway.

  Vikrama carried out the role of king all day. In the evening he had a sacrificial offering with many gifts placed beside his bed, and himself sat up keeping vigil. In due course the genie came. He was deadly and terrifying to look at as he towered above, staring at all the gifts and offerings. Then, as he drew his scimitar and advanced for the kill, Vikrama spoke up: ‘Wait!’ he cried, ‘take the offering first. Then I too will be at your disposal.’

  The genie took the offering and was content. ‘O hero,’ he said to Vikrama, ‘I give this kingdom to you. But you must provide me a sacrificial offering every day.’ With these words he departed. In the morning, when the ministers saw that the king was still alive and well, they were delighted and said: ‘He is truly a prince among heroes.’

  The genie would now come daily and take the offered gifts. One day the king asked him: ‘How great is your power, genie, and how much do you know?’

  ‘I can do whatever I please,’ the genie replied, ‘and I know everything.’ The king then asked: ‘How long will I live?’ ‘A hundred years,’ said the genie. ‘But there is a gap in my life,’ the king said, ‘so, can you increase or reduce it by one year?’ To this the genie responded: ‘No one at all can make your life longer or shorter than what is ordained,’ and he took the gifts and went away.

  When the genie returned on the following day, he noticed that the king had not put out any gifts whatsoever for him. ‘Why have you not prepared the gifts today?’ he asked angrily. Vikrama said: ‘If no one at all can increase or reduce my life, then why should I carry out a sacrifice for you every day? So, take guard to do battle with me.’ And, drawing his sword, he stood up facing the genie.

  The genie was very pleased with Vikrama’s heroism. ‘O king and great hero,’ he said, ‘meeting a celestial personage like me can never go waste. So ask me for any boon you would like.’ The king replied: ‘If you are pleased with me, then come whenever I think of you, and do my work for me.’ The genie agreed and went away. The next morning Vikramaditya was appointed and crowned king with great ceremony by his ministers.

  ✵

  IV. Vikrama and the Wicked Yogi

  Vikramaditya ruled justly after becoming the king. He fulfilled the expectations of the gods and the priests, the orphans, the disabled and the afflicted. He took due care of the populace, satisfied his servants and retainers, and won the hearts of his nobles and ministers by keeping his promises. Thus did he reign happily.

  Once a certain yogi came to the king, and said: ‘Great hero, if you will not spurn my prayer, then I would like to ask you for a favour. For,

  Wealth, by its nature, is transient;

  so too is life, and even all existence.

  Then, why delay good deeds?’

  ‘O yogi,’ the king replied, ‘if your work can be accomplished by me and what I possess, then you have but to ask.’

  The yogi then said: ‘King, the accomplishments of great men have always depended only on their natural prowess. For,

  Rāma had to conquer Lankā

  and to cross the ocean on foot.

  Rāvana opposed him on the battlefield,

  and his allies were only monkeys.

  Yet he slew the entire

  race of demons in the war.1

  The achievements of the great

  flow from their inborn prowess,

  not from any other devices.

  ‘Majesty,’ the yogi continued, ‘I have undertaken to perform an incantation ceremony. You must officiate in it as my assistant.’

  Vikrama agreed. The yogi then took him at night to a forest. There he sent the king to fetch a corpse tied to the branch of a tree, and himself commenced the ceremony by reciting the incantation.

  A genie had taken possession of the corpse. Knowing that the king was in danger, it whiled away the night by narrating twenty-five stories.2 At dawn it appeared before the king and said: ‘Sire, this yogi is a sorcerer. You are the best of men. He wishes to gain control of a golden being by sacrificing you in his ceremony. Do not trust him. For,

  One should never trust a rogue,

  thinking that one has helped him.

  The scoundrel and the snake

  bite even those who feed them with milk.’

  The king marvelled on hearing the genie. He said to himself:

  ‘The sins which fools commit for the sake of this life,

  cause them sorrows in a thousand future lives.

  ‘The wickedness! Well, be it so. What can he do? I too will do whatever is needed. For,

  The good man immersed in good deeds

  lives in peace. The wicked one

  with violent ways will writhe at his feet.

  The snake drinks milk but brings forth

  only venom. Yet an antidote will

  make it as harmless as a lotus stalk.’

  Reflecting on this, Vikrama took the initiative. He flung the yogi into the sacrificial fire at the time of the final oblation, and himself gained control of the golden being. The latter’s patron god then appeared and explained the various powers which accompanied the being. He also praised the king. The genie too was pleased with the king, and promised him before leaving: ‘Summon me in your mind, and I will come to you like a slave. There is nothing impossible for me, and I will do whatever you command. The eight magic powers3 will also be at your disposal.’

  As for Vikramaditya, he took the golden being and returned to his capital with all ceremony in the morning.

  ✵

  V. Vikrama gains the Throne

  There was no king on earth like Vikrama. His fame spread throughout the three worlds, unimpeded like the flow of the river Ganga. At this time the king of the gods, Indra, wished to disturb the penances of the sage Viśvāmitra. He summoned the nymphs Rambhā and Urvaśī in heaven and said: ‘Which of you two ladies is more skilled in dance and music? Let her go to Viśvāmitra’s hermitage and disturb his penances. I will give, her a prize if she succeeds.’

  ‘O king of the gods,’ cried Rambhā, ‘I am extremely skilled in dance.’ But Urvaśī said: ‘Sire, I know how to dance as prescribed in the sacred texts.’ A dispute thus having arisen between them, an assembly of the gods was convened to take a decision.

  Rambhā danced first. Urvaśī gave her performance on the second day. All the gods were greatly pleased with both. But they could not decide who was the better dancer. Nārada the divine sage then spoke up. ‘O king of the gods,’ he said, ‘there is a monarch named Vikramaditya on earth. He is an expert in all the arts, and specially so in dance and music. He will be able to decide this dispute between the two nymphs.’

  Great Indra then sent his minister Mātali to Ujjayini to fetch Vikramaditya. On receiving the invitation Vikrama went with the genie to Amarāvatī, the celestial capital, and saluted Indra who welcomed him with all honour.

  Meanwhile a place for holding the dance competition had been readied. First Rambhā mounted the stage and gave her performance. On the following day Urvaśī took her place and danced in accordance with the sacred texts.

  Vikramaditya praised Urvaśī and declared her to be the winner. ‘How did you come to this conclusion?’ Indra asked him. Vikrama replied: ‘God, in dance the first and most important thing is bodily grace. This is stated in the Nritya Śāstra, the sacred text on this art1.

  The connoisseurs of dance say that grace

  is more important than technique.

  It lies in a fluent motion of the limbs,

  moving neither too high or too low;

  a symmetry of the hips and the knees,

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p; the facial features and the ears;

  a balanced raising of the breast;

  and a sweet restfulness of the expression.

  ‘Furthermore, the ballerina needs to demonstrate the particular posture appropriate to the beginning of a dance. The Nritya Śāstra specifies this as:

  The limbs foursquare, the feet kept even,

  and the hands held drooping like a vine:

  this is the general rule for

  the commencement of all dances.

  ‘As for her appearance,

  It should conform to the ideal

  in the dancing master’s mind.

  The eyes should be large; the face,

  radiant like the autumn moon;

  the arms sloping from the shoulders;

  the breasts small, firm and high;

  the flanks smooth, as if polished;

  a waist no more than a handspan;

  a shapely bottom; and feet with curving toes.

  ‘Specially charming is the moment of pause in a dance,

  The left hand resting on the hip,

  with a bracelet motionless on the wrist;

  the other arm lying loose

  like a young and slender bough;

  the body’s upper half held straight;

  and the gaze dropped to the floor

  where the toe plays with a flower:

  the pause can be even more

  delightful than the dance.

  ‘In short,

  Emotion is truly captured in dance

  when the limbs convey fully

  the meanings of the words within;

  the feet identify with the moods

  as they follow the rhythm

  and the hands enact them delicately;

  and the changing expressions of feeling

  follow close on one another.

  ‘That is why I applauded Urvaśī. She is a dancer as described in the Nritya Śāstra.’

  The great Indra was satisfied. He honoured Vikramaditya with robes and presented to him a throne encrusted with rare and priceless gems. Thirty-two statuettes of precious moonstone supported this magnificent throne, which was mounted by stepping over their heads. ‘From this royal seat,’ the lord of heaven said to the king, ‘may you protect the earth in all happiness for a thousand years.’ And, taking the throne as decreed by Indra, Vikrama returned to his own capital, where he ascended it at an auspicious moment amidst the blessings of the priests, and ruled the earth unrivalled.

  ✵

  VI. Vikrama’s Death and the hiding of the Throne

  Vikramaditya’s nemesis, Śālivāhana, was born many years later in the town of Pratishṭhāna,1 fathered by the serpent king Śesha on a little girl. In Ujjayini the king and the people witnessed evil omens at the time, such as earthquakes, comets and fires on the horizon.

  Vikrama summoned the soothsayers and asked them: ‘Why do these omens occur day after day? What can they mean? Whose ruination do they portend?’

  ‘Sire,’ the soothsayers replied, ‘the earthquake took place at dusk. This indicates evil for the king. As mentioned in the book of Nārada,

  An earthquake at dawn or dusk

  bodes ill for kings.

  And a yellow fire on the horizon

  is extremely unfavourable for them.

  ‘In the book of Nārada it is further started,

  A comet is said to signal the destruction of kings.

  And a fire on the horizon,

  if it is yellow in colour,

  portends great danger for them.’

  Vikramaditya then called his minister, Bhatti. ‘Tell me,’ he asked, ‘what could these bad omens signify?’

  ‘Who can say?’ replied Bhatti. ‘This looks to me like something unfavourable. What it is, only the future will show.’

  ‘Why do you say unfavourable?’ the king rejoined, ‘I have nothing to fear. And listen to the reason, Bhatti. I will explain it all from the beginning.’

  ‘In the past I had pleased the great god Maheśvara with my penances, and the dark-throated, three-eyed god had appeared before me. Filled with happiness, I bowed to him but forgot for a moment what else I should do. The god then told me to ask for what I desired.’

  ‘I wanted immortality. So, I said to the god of gods: “Let the cause of my death be a son born to a two-and-a-half year old girl, and nothing else.” The god confirmed this boon and returned to his abode on Mount Kailāsa. Since then I have always and everywhere been free from fear.’

  After hearing this account the wise minister told the king: ‘Well, everything is possible. Strange are the ways of our creator and saviour. He never has just one plan. King Hiraṇyakaśipu had been granted the boon that he could not be slain by any man or animal. Yet a youth who was neither one nor the other came into being to cause his death. Bearing this in mind, it would be better to mount a search for one who could pose danger for Your Majesty.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Vikramaditya, and he called in his mind for the genie who appeared instantly. Asked to hunt for a person such as the king had described, the genie bowed his head in acknowledgement of the great monarch’s order, and sped forth through the sky, swifter than the wind.

  After searching the seven continents, the seven mountain ranges and the seven oceans, the genie returned with his finding. ‘I have looked at all that needed to be seen,’ he reported, ‘in the town of Pratishṭhāna, O King in the house of a potter, I saw a little boy like the newly risen sun. He was playing with a girl of hardly more than two and a half years. “Are you two related?” I asked. “This is my son,” the little girl replied. “Who is your father?” I then asked, and she pointed to a brahmin who was there.

  ‘I then questioned the brahmin. “This is my daughter,” he said, “and that is her son.” I was astonished. “How can this be?” I said to the brahmin. “The deeds of the gods are beyond our understanding,” he told me. “The serpent king Śesha was charmed by her beauty and loveliness, and had intercourse with her. This child Śālivāhana was born as a result.”’

  Vikrama was amazed at the genie’s report. He ordered his army against the town of Pratishṭhāna forthwith. But Bhatti, whose acumen was well known, said: ‘Master, this is not the time for you to proceed against the enemy. It is better, sire, to follow the course of destiny from here itself.’ The king accepted this advice and called off his preparations.

  Later, at another time and for some other reason, the great king was impelled by fate to proceed with his army against Pratishṭhāna. When Śesha learnt that Vikramaditya was determined to kill his son, he too prepared an army to destroy the other force.

  A battle took place between the two armies, and the forces of Śālivāhana prevailed over those of their opponent. Seeing his troops in retreat, Vikramaditya charged sword in hand to despatch Śālivāhana. But the boy saw him attacking, and struck him with a staff. The blow was like that from the staff of the god of death. Its force shook the king, who fell back quickly on Ujjayini. The protector of everyone returned like one who himself needs protection.

  In Ujjayini Vikramaditya died, unable to bear the pain of his wound. All the king’s wives prepared to enter his funeral fire. The ministers wondered what to do, for the king had no son. ‘Let us find out if any of his wives is with child,’ suggested Bhatti, and on investigation it was discovered that one was seven months pregnant. The ministers then got together and performed the coronation ceremony of the unborn child, and themselves undertook the management of the kingdom.

  The throne presented by Indra stood vacant. One day a disembodied voice was heard in the assembly. ‘O ministers of Vikramaditya, there is no more a king such as him, worthy of sitting upon this throne. Therefore let it be put away inside the earth at some good place.’ The ministers thereafter buried the throne in a field of great purity.

  ✵

  VII. The Discovery of the Throne

  Many years passed since the throne was hidden. Bhoja became the king. During his reign a brahmin once prep
ared a field where the throne had been interred, and planted it with sugarcane, chickpeas and suchlike. The field produced a rich crop and, to keep the birds away, the brahmin built a raised platform upon some high ground which also happened to be the spot where the throne was buried. There he would sit and drive off the birds.

  Once King Bhoja passed by while out on a hunt with all the princes. The brahmin was on his platform. ‘O King,’ he called out, ‘this field is in fruit. Come in with your warriors and eat whatever you like. Give the chickpeas to the horses. My life is today fulfilled, now that Your Majesty is my guest. When could I ever have had such an opportunity?’

  The king and his party entered the field. The brahmin too came down from the platform to drive off some birds which had gathered in a corner. But he protested on seeing the king in the middle of the field: ‘O King! What are you doing? This is not right! You are destroying this field, which belongs to a brahmin. If others commit an injustice, we appeal to you. If you yourself are set to act unjustly, who will stop that? It is said:

  Who is there to control

  a king turned libertine,

  an elephant gone berserk,

  and educated people

  engaged in villainy?

  ‘There is another thing. Your Majesty knows the law. How can you destroy the property of a brahmin? Such property is like poison, not to be touched. Thus,

  Poison is not as lethal, it is said,

  as the property of a brahmin

  which is the real poison.

  Taking the former kills only

  the individual, but the latter

  kills his children and grand-children too.’

  On hearing these words the king and his entourage quit the field forthwith. At the same time the brahmin also returned to the platform after shooing off the birds. ‘O King!’ he called out again, ‘why are you going away? This field is well ripened. Eat the sugarcane. The cucumbers are in fruit. Enjoy them!’