Simhasana Dvatrimsika Read online

  Having had this done, the minister went home and narrated the whole story to Śāradā Nandana. The preceptor listened to the entire account and said: ‘Minister, say this to the king: “I have a young girl whom the prince should see. She will be able to do something.” Bahuśruta spoke accordingly to the king who then went to the minister’s house with all his courtiers.

  When the king was seated, with his son the ghoul by his side, muttering ‘sa, se, mi, ra’, Śāradā Nandana, who was hidden behind a curtain, recited four verses to release the prince from his affliction.

  ‘Is there any cleverness in cheating

  one’s known well-wishers, and indeed,

  is there any manliness in murdering

  those who sleep in one’s arms?’

  On hearing this verse, which commenced with ‘sa’, the prince ceased mumbling that syllable, but continued to repeat the other three—‘se, mi, ra.’ ‘How marvellous!’ cried the delighted courtiers. The excellent brahmin then recited the second verse, which began with the syllable ‘se’:

  ‘Even the slayer of a brahmin is released

  from his sin when he beholds the bridge

  across the sea at the point of Dhanushkoti,

  but not the traitor to his friend.’

  On hearing this stanza, Jayapāla dropped the second syllable also, and continued to mutter only ‘mi, ra, mi, ra’. ‘O what a great marvel!’ the courtiers exclaimed, and Śāradā Nandana recited another verse full of faultless sense, beginning with the syllable ‘mi’:

  ‘The traitor to his friend, the ingrate, the thief,

  and one who violates the guru’s bed—

  all four will go to hell for as long

  as the sun and the moon exist.’

  The prince then let go yet another syllable and babbled only ‘ra, ra.’ Once more the brahmin behind the curtain recited in clear tones:

  ‘King, if you desire your son’s welfare,

  give gifts to the deserving.

  The householder is purified by charity.’

  Even as Śāradā Nandana said this, the prince regained his senses and became healthy. He recounted the story of the bear to his father the king, who shook his head and stared at the curtain in amazement. He went up to it all of a sudden, his eyes wide with wonder, and asked:

  ‘My good girl, you live in the village.

  How did you know what happened

  in the forest between

  the bear, the tiger and this man?’

  Once again there was the voice from behind the curtain:

  ‘Listen carefully, O King!

  Nothing is unknown to me.

  By the grace of the god of gods,

  Śāradā, the goddess of learning,

  abides in my tongue. Through her

  I know everything, just like

  I knew of the mole on Bhānumati.’

  The astonished king pulled the curtain aside, and beheld Śāradā Nandana in person. He and all the others saluted the brahmin, and the minister related all that had transpired. The king then addressed the minister in front of all the assemblage: ‘Bahuśruta, I do not have even one benefactor to compare with you, sir. By your good sense you have averted a sin against the brahmins, and cured this prince who is so skilled in the ways of protecting this kingdom. Nothing can reciprocate your gift of his life. Through you I will now be able to conquer all the three worlds.

  And honouring Śāradā Nandana the preceptor, and Bahuśruta the minister, King Nanda continued to rule the land with their guidance.

  Part II

  THE THIRTY-TWO TALES OF THE THRONE

  1. King Bhoja attempts to mount the Throne

  After telling his tale to King Bhoja, the minister added: ‘O King, the monarch who listens to his minister will have a long and happy life.’ Bhoja praised the minister, and honoured him with robes, decorations and other gifts.

  The king then proceeded to Dhārā, his capital, with the throne. He brought it into the city, and installed it at an auspicious moment in a thousand-pillared pavilion he had had erected. There he swiftly assembled all the things which are declared to be propitious for the consecration of kings: orpiment powder, turmeric, white mustard, sandalwood, flowers and sprouts of dūrvā grass, and other such articles. He had the earth with its seven continents depicted on a tiger skin, and a moon-white parasol put up before it with two fine jewelled maces and a pair of bright fly-whisks. Various kinds of swords and other weapons were placed on the side.

  Brahmins versed in the four Vedas gathered from every side for the great occasion, as did the bards and the balladeers skilled in genealogy. Matrons who had living sons carried lamps in golden vessels for blessing Bhoja with lights. A variety of musical instruments were played repeatedly. All the citizens came dressed in their best for Bhoja’s festival, and astrologers learned in the three branches of the science arrived to determine an auspicious moment for his enthronement.

  Bhoja on his part was anointed and bathed without delay. He put on gleaming white garments and took a most beautiful sword in his hand. After meditating on his family gods and touching lucky objects, the king then went forth to mount the throne at the auspicious moment. A multitude of brahmins acclaimed him, and the bards sang his praises, as he awarded gifts and honours to all the four castes, and distributed various alms to the poor, the blind and the maimed. Escorted with the royal parasol and fly whisk, as he then placed his noble foot upon the head of the first statuette, she spoke to him in a human voice: ‘O King! Do you possess valour, magnanimity, daring, nobility and other such qualities like him? If so, then mount this throne. Not otherwise!’

  ‘O statue!’ exclaimed the king, ‘I too have magnanimity and all the other virtues of which you, speak. Which one do I lack? I too give whatever befits the occasion to all who come to me.’

  ‘That itself is a shortcoming in you,’ the statuette replied with a smile. ‘What you have given, you proclaim with your own mouth. Only villains talk of their own virtues and the defects of others. The good never speak like that. It is said:

  It is the wicked of this world

  who talk of other’s faults

  as if they were their own virtues.

  The good will never speak of others’

  defects or their own merits.

  ‘And further,

  These nine should never be made public:

  One’s age, wealth, family secrets, magic spells,

  medicaments, sexual liaisons, gifts,

  and times of honour or disgrace.

  ‘Therefore one should neither praise one’s virtues or run down others. The mere mention of these cheapens a man.’

  King Bhoja marvelled at the words of the statuette. ‘What you say is true,’ he said, ‘one who makes much of his merits is no more than a fool. What I said was certainly inappropriate. But tell me now of the magnanimity of the man to whom this throne belonged.’

  The statuette replied: ‘O King, this is the throne of Vikramaditya. When he was satisfied he would give a million pieces of gold to supplicants:

  One received a thousand pieces

  of gold at a look from the king,

  ten thousand at a word,

  a hundred thousand when the king smiled,

  and a million when he was satisfied.

  ‘Such was the innate magnanimity of the emperor Vikramaditya. If you are capable of acting thus, then mount this throne.’

  2. The Secret of the Sacrifice

  When the time was ripe, King Bhoja once more came forward to mount the throne. The second statuette addressed him: ‘King, you are worthy of sitting upon this throne only if you have the daring and the magnanimity of Vikramaditya.’

  ‘What were those qualities like?’ Bhoja asked. The statuette then told him in front of his assembled courtiers: ‘King Vikramaditya unified the whole earth upto the ocean under his sovereign sway, and assured the welfare of all his subjects. Always eager to know what happened in the provinces, he never tired of being informed a
bout everything by his confidential agents.

  ‘Once a spy came to the king and acquainted him with all that he had seen. “Sire,” he said, “on the mountain Chitrakūta there is a great shrine to the goddess and a famous prayer-grove with many trees. The grand temple there is built of priceless gemstones from Mount Mahāmeru. It rises high and shines like the goddess Bhavānī herself. On the mountain top there flows a stream of the river of paradise from whose waters can be known the sins and the merits of those who bathe in it. The drops which fall from the bodies of the virtuous are as white as milk; but the water becomes as black as soot when a wicked person enters it.

  “‘There is a brahmin engaged ceaselessly in a fire sacrifice on the mountain, since how long or for what reason, I do not know. He is there even now. The ash which has come out of his sacrificial fire pit is piled high like the peak of some huge hill. He observes some vow of silence and does not speak to anyone. Such, sire, is the sanctuary which I have seen on that mountain.”

  “‘We would like to see this,” the king told the spy. “Go on ahead, and the two of us will travel to where this noble brahmin is.” He then proceeded swiftly with the spy to that holy mountain, and there saw the shrine, adorned with its great temple encircled by a four-gated rampart. The sanctuary would have purified even a sinner’s heart, what to say of someone like the king whose inner self was delighted at being there. He bathed in the sacred stream which was shown to him by his man, and offered prayers to the great god Śiva. Thereafter he went to see the brahmin.

  ‘At that time the brahmin was busy offering bilva fruit smeared with honey into the sacrificial fire. “Your Holiness,” Vikramaditya asked him, “since how many years have you been conducting this fire sacrifice here? Do tell me all about it.”

  “‘Listen, my good sir,” the brahmin replied, “it is a hundred autumns since I have been here, performing this fire sacrifice with all the rituals and great effort. But my resolution to continue it till the fruit of the sacrifice is obtained has been futile. The goddess just will not grant her grace.”

  ‘After listening to the brahmin the king, with all solemnity, himself offered a bilva fruit smeared with honey as an oblation into the sacrificial fire. Observing that the goddess was still not propitiated, he then decided that his own head must be sacrificed. As he put his scimitar to his throat and was about to make the incision, the goddess appeared and herself restrained his hand. “My son, I wish you well,” she said, “do not act in haste. Choose a boon, for I grant wishes. I have come, and I will give you whatever you desire, no matter how hard it may be to get.”

  ‘Commanded thus, the king replied with all reverence: “Goddess, I would like to know why you have not granted your grace to this brahmin who has been sacrificing to you with so much effort since such a long time, while you have favoured me within moments of seeing me.”

  ‘The goddess was precise. “You are zealous and prepared to take risks for dharma,” she said. “Listen carefully to the reason. Even though he sacrifices to me, his mind is not fixed on me in devotion. That is why he does not succeed. As it is said of praying with the rosary:

  When beads are told only with the fingertips,

  when they are told unmindful of the round

  completed, and when they are told

  with thoughts somewhere else:

  in all these the effort is fruitless.

  “‘You see, this brahmin’s heart lacks devotion:

  God does not dwell in wood or stone

  or mud, but in pure devotion

  from which all else proceeds.”

  ‘After listening to these words of the deity, the king responded: “Goddess, the world should know of the fruit of your grace. You had earlier asked me to choose a boon, and gods certainly never contradict themselves:

  Kings give their word but once,

  and so do the gods. Only once

  is a virgin offered in marriage.

  All these three do not happen again.

  “‘Therefore, goddess, give me this boon which I seek. Let the desires of this long suffering brahmin be satisfied.”

  “‘So be it,” said the goddess, and giving the brahmin whatever he wanted, she disappeared forthwith. The brahmin too went home, fully contented. And King Vikramaditya returned to his capital.

  ‘King Bhoja,’ the statuette concluded, ‘if you too possess such daring and magnanimity, then sit upon this throne.’

  3. The Four Jewels

  As King Bhoja was once again about to sit upon the throne, another statuette addressed him: ‘O King, this seat may be occupied only by one who has the magnanimity of Vikrama.’ ‘Tell me a tale of his magnanimity, statue,’ requested Bhoja.

  ‘Listen, O King,’ said the statuette, ‘there has never been a ruler like Vikramaditya on this earth. In his thinking there was no differentiation between compatriots and outsiders: he provided for the welfare of everyone. It is said,

  It is the small-minded who

  differentiate between ‘us’ and ‘them’.

  For the large hearted the world itself is one family.1

  ‘Moreover, no one has had his daring, industry and steadfastness. Indra and the other gods used to assist him. It is said,

  Even the gods are wary of one

  in whom the six qualities

  of daring and steadfastness, industry and intelligence,

  and strength and valour are combined.

  ‘Furthermore, O King, God in turn accomplishes the wishes of those who fulfill the longings of their supplicants. As it is said,

  God fulfills the wishes

  of men with a firm resolve,

  as did Vishnu with his discus and eagle

  for the weaver in the battle.’

  ‘How was that?’ asked Bhoja and the statuette recounted a marvellous tale, delighting the hearts of all the assembled courtiers.

  Vishnu and the Weaver

  There is a city called Pratāpa-Vishama in the Vindhya mountains. In it there ruled King Brihatsena, who had a daughter named Sulochanā. A rogue of a weaver was infatuated with this princess, and used to wonder how he could have her, bearing in mind that she stayed within the palace.’

  ‘Some resourceful person soon devised for the weaver an eagle and a discus similar to what the god Vishnu has. These were made of wood and worked with a cord. Using them, the rogue flew up to the palace and approached Sulochanā of the bewitching smile. “Know that I am Vishnu, my beauty,” he told her. “I have come here just for your sake.” Having seduced the girl with such words, he would come flying every day and enjoy her at leisure. This continued for a long while with the concurrence of Brihatsena, who too was enticed into believing that the weaver was the god Vishnu.’

  ‘Considering that a god had become his son-in-law, the king now entered into confrontations with many other powerful rulers. Afraid of Vishnu, they put up with his provocations at first; but eventually all of them got together and consulted each other: “Brihatsena is a wicked man. Now that Vishnu has become his son-in-law, the villain does not only want tribute, even though it is offered willingly, but is after our very lives. It is better now to fight him, even if we die.” Taking this decision they suddenly besieged his capital in force.

  ‘Full of arrogance, Brihatsena came out boldly from his fortress and battled on his own against his many opponents with their numerous forces. But when his soldiers had been killed by their warriors and he himself had been wounded, he had to beat a painful retreat back into the city where he acquainted his daughter with his discomfiture. She on her part went in anguish to her spouse and entreated him. “You my husband are Vishnu,” the simple girl said to the rogue, falling at his feet, “now save my father from this plight.”

  ‘The weaver could think of no way out and prepared himself for his own end. He picked up his wooden discus, mounted his mechanical bird and, grasping its pulley, flew out into the air, shouting “Run away! Run away! I am Vishnu!”

  ‘The opposing hosts got ready for batt
le. In that moment Vishnu, the lord of the world who sleeps on the serpent, reflected: “This man has put on my guise and declared himself to be Vishnu. If he is slain by his opponents my reputation will be jeopardized!” Thinking thus, the discus-wielding lord promptly went forth on his eagle and scattered the enemy forces, before returning to his own seat.

  ‘Observing the enemy’s unexpected rout, the rogue duly returned and announced a victory to his father-in-law. This shows how, when someone resolves firmly to do something, the gods themselves come to his aid. This is even more so in the case of a righteous person.’

  ✣

  ‘If a man is energetic and prompt,

  knows his work and is free of vices,

  and has courage, gratitude and firmness

  of purpose, the goddess of prosperity

  will herself seek him out

  to be her dwelling place.

  ‘Thus was King Vikramaditya, an abode of all the virtues and possessed of every excellence. Once he said to himself: “Oh, this world is transitory! No one can know what will happen, when and to whom. Therefore, the wealth that one accumulates is useless unless it is spent in enjoyment or given away in charity. The best use of money is in fact in charity to the deserving. Otherwise it only goes waste. It is said:

  There are three courses for money:

  charity, enjoyment and going waste.

  For one who neither gives

  nor spends, there remains

  only the third option.

  And further:

  Wealth should either be enjoyed

  or given away, but never hoarded.

  Look at how the honey collected