Simhasana Dvatrimsika Page 7

  When King Bhoja had once again found an auspicious day and wished to mount the throne, another statuette spoke to him: ‘King, only when you become as great in munificence as Vikramaditya will Your Majesty be worthy of mounting this throne.’ ‘Tell me,’ asked the king, ‘what was his munificence like?’

  ‘Once the noble King Vikrama was in his assembly hall in the capital of Avanti,’ said the statuette. ‘It was spring. The keeper of the parks and the gardens was announced in by the ushers. Saluting with folded hands raised to the forehead, he said: “Sire, the trees and the plants in your pleasure park are full of new shoots, flowers and fruit, specially the mangoes, coconuts, citrons, custard apples, oranges, nutmegs, frangipanis, asokas, palms, acacias, plantains, kankoli berries, cloves, screwpines, jasmines and the lavali creeper. It is now the time of the spring festival.” Hearing this, the king proceeded to the pleasure park, accompanied by his chief queen, concubines, dancing girls and others.

  ‘There, Vikramaditya entered a vast inner quarter to amuse himself. It was like the abode of Indra, the king of heaven. It shone with tall arches and pillars of gold, ruby columns, moonstone balconies and stairways of sapphire. A garden bloomed there, splendid with mango, frangipani and asoka trees, and resonant with the warblings of nightingales. Its ornamental pools gleamed with steps of turquoise, their water flecked with pollen scattered by the blossoming lotus. The garden was provided with playhouses, their roofs well covered with sand, and their walls with fragrant grass and other creepers to keep the interiors cool.

  ‘The place was aglitter with courtesans in sparkling jewellery. They were of all the four sorts, the young and the mature, the artless and the bold. Some wore rich saffron robes, some garments white as milk, and some costumes as colourful as painted pictures. Among them were women skilled in witty conversation, puns, allusions and persiflage; and expert in the bodily language of dance and mirth, coquetry and affection, allurement and passion. These beauties included the four categories1 of padmini or the lotus woman, hastini or the elephant woman, śankhini or the seashell woman, and chitriṇi or the picture woman. With them the king gathered flowers, dallied in the water, made music, sported on the swings, and played woman’s house and other games. He enjoyed there the most exquisite delights of this earthly existence. He was like an elephant with his mates or like someone in a play with no other man in the cast.

  ‘Near the park was a shrine of the goddess Chaṇḍikā, and a celibate lived there. “Alas, I am wasting my life in penances,” he said to himself as he saw the king arrive. “I have never experienced any pleasures, even in a dream. What kind of reasoning is it that one should suffer as long as one lives, so that the fruits of penance may be tasted after one is dead? Some people say that it is wise to eschew physical pleasures as they are intertwined with pain. But these are foolish thoughts. It is said:

  It is a foolish idea that men should

  renounce the pleasures of the senses

  because they are accompanied by pain.

  What man with self-interest would ever

  throw away rice rich in fine white grains

  just because it is mixed with a few bits of their husk?2

  “‘Therefore, even at the risk of great pain, one should definitely savour the pleasure which is woman. It is the best thing in this worldly round. It is said,

  A gazelle-eyed girl is the best thing

  in this worthless worldly round.

  For her sake men seek wealth.

  Without her what is the point of having it?

  A lovely woman is the best thing

  in this worthless worldly round.

  It is with this thought in mind

  that the great god gave her half his body.

  “‘Now that King Vikramaditya has come here,” the celibate thought, “I will therefore beg him for a grant of land so that I may marry some girl and partake of earthly pleasures.” He then went to the king, sat down at his bidding, and offered him his best blessings.

  “‘From where have you come, brahmin?” the king asked. “I stay here itself, serving the mother of the world,” the man replied, “I have spent fifty years, serving her all the time. I am a celibate. The goddess came to me in a dream today as night was ending, and said: ‘O brahmin, I am pleased with you, who have undergone hardship for so long in serving me. Now you must accept to become a householder, and beget a son, before applying your mind to salvation. Otherwise you cannot attain that end. It is said,

  One may apply the mind to salvation

  after one has discharged the three debts.3

  One who seeks salvation without

  discharging them will go to hell.

  “‘Thus,’ said the goddess, ‘having been a celibate, one should become a householder; having been a householder one should become a forest dweller; and having been a forest dweller one may enter into the life of a wandering sanyasi. Moreover I have appeared to King Vikrama in a dream and spoken to him. He will fulfill your wishes.’ This is what the goddess said to me in a dream, and so I have come to you.”

  ‘When the celibate spoke these deceitful words to the king, the latter said to himself: “The goddess told me nothing in a dream. This man is lying, and so be it. Nevertheless, he seems to be in distress, and there is no question that his wish should be fulfilled. It is said,

  Thirsty peacocks cry out in distress

  to the rainclouds, and the clouds

  instantly pour down streams of water for them.

  What is the cloud to the bird,

  or the bird to the cloud? Those who

  are in distress should not

  fail to ask, and those who are

  great-hearted should not fail to give.”

  ‘The king then had a new city built for the brahmin, appointed him as its ruler, and presented him with a hundred slave girls, before returning to his own capital. And the brahmin, his wishes all fulfilled, continued to pray for the king’s prosperity.’

  After recounting this tale, the statuette said to King Bhoja: ‘Your Majesty, sit on this throne if you are possessed of such munificence.’ But the king was silent.

  7. The Decapitated Duo

  The seventh statuette stopped the king with charming words when, seeing that the day was auspicious, he wished once again to mount the throne. ‘Why do you stop me?’ he asked. ‘Listen, great king,’ the statuette replied, ‘the reason why I stop you is the mighty deeds of Vikramaditya.’

  ‘The noble Vikrama was king in Avanti. Under his rule, the people eschewed the seven vices. Nor did they transgress the rules of their respective castes. They deliberated on the scriptures and pondered on the ultimate reality. Delighting in virtue, they feared to sin, sought renown, and made a habit of helping others. Truthful in speech, uninterested in acquisition, silent in slandering others, they meditated on the supreme soul and despised the physical body. They had goodness in their hearts and the generosity which comes from knowing that wealth is transitory.

  ‘A merchant named Dhanada lived in Avanti at that time. He was so rich that he did not know the extent of his own wealth. Whatever goods were to be seen in the city could be obtained in his house. “I have acquired everything in this world,” he once said to himself, “but nothing at all for the next. Without that all is fruitless here. For,

  What is the use of acquiring riches sufficient

  to satisfy all one’s desires; of bringing

  all one’s enemies underfoot; and of

  preserving this human body for an age;

  if the soul is not devoted

  to the practice of righteousness?”

  ‘So Dhanada performed meritorious charities as prescribed in the Book of Gifts1 at his home, and proceeded abroad on pilgrimage to holy places. On the way he took a ship and went to an island in the ocean. There he saw a shrine to the goddess behind a lake enclosed with moonstone slabs. On the left of the shrine were to be seen a beautiful couple, a man and a woman, their heads separated from their bodies. This had been
devised by the goddess to test virtuous people. A stone inscription was on view there: “These two will come to life whenever some hero offers his own head here as a sacrifice.”

  ‘The great merchant was amazed to see this decapitated duo next to the temple. His limbs broke out in perspiration and his hair stood on end, as he blinked and trembled, his mind in a whirl. Somehow controlling himself, that wise man came out of the shrine and returned to where he was staying.

  ‘After completing his pilgrimage Dhanada returned home. He presented holy souvenirs to his relatives and, taking something precious, went the next morning to see the king. It is said,

  One should never go empty-handed to a king,

  to a temple, a guru and, specially, to an astrologer.

  With a gift one can indicate another

  to be expected in return.

  ‘And similarly,

  One should never go empty-handed

  to a beloved wife, a dear friend,

  a young son, an astrologer, and the king.

  ‘After Dhanada had presented his gift and taken a seat, the king asked if his journey had gone well, and enquired about anything unusual that may have happened. Dhanada told him about the shrine of the goddess in the middle of the ocean.

  ‘The king too was amazed. “Come with me, Dhanada,” he said, “we both will go there and see this marvel.” He then went with the merchant by sea to the island, and saw the couple, man and woman, and read the inscription.

  ‘The king’s mind was filled with compassion. He told himself:

  ‘If a man can help others,

  but does not do so, this error

  will lose him his own soul

  which he may have earlier gained.”

  ‘After performing his ablutions and ritual donations, as he then raised a sword to his throat, and was about to cut off his own head, the goddess restrained his hand. “O man of virtue,” she said, “I am pleased with you. Ask for a boon.” “If you are pleased with me,” replied the king, “bring these two to life and grant them a kingdom.” “O virtuous man, this arrangement was made as a test,” the goddess said further. “You alone are the ornament of this world. No one else is as virtuous as you.” Thereafter the king returned to his capital.’

  After telling this tale, the statuette said to King Bhoja: ‘If you have such daring, then mount upon this throne.’

  8. The Filling of the Lake

  When King Bhoja approached the throne once again in order to mount it, the eighth statuette addressed him: ‘O King, you may mount this throne only when you have an abundance of heroic daring like Vikramaditya.’ At these words the king’s mind was filled with curiosity. He asked about this heroism, and the statuette replied: ‘Through his spies King Vikrama would learn all about various interesting and wonderful incidents and other marvellous accounts from all over the world. It is said:

  Cattle perceive through their sense of smell,

  brahmins through the scriptures,

  and kings through their spies;

  other people perceive merely

  through their two eyes.

  ‘Listen, Your Majesty, when one is a king, it becomes necessary to know fully the condition of the people and the mood prevailing everywhere. The people should be nurtured, the wicked punished, and the good protected. The collection of revenue should be just, and the treatment of petitioners equal. These indeed are five sacred rites for kings. As it is said:

  Punishing the wicked;

  honouring the good;

  augmenting the treasury justly;

  impartiality among petitioners;

  and protection of the realm:

  these five are called

  the king’s acts of worship.

  ‘And further,

  What use are prayers by a king

  who oppresses his subjects? His prayers,

  rosaries and fire sacrifices consist in ensuring

  that no tears are shed in the country.

  ‘When Vikrama ruled thus, two of his spies once returned to the royal presence after having travelled round the world. Questioned by the king, they said: “Your Majesty, there is a certain very wealthy merchant in the land of Kashmir. He had a reservoir for water dug with an extent of ten miles, and a temple to the god Nārāyaṇa the Waterborne erected in the middle. But water does not stay in this tank. The merchant had brahmins perform a fourfold sacrifice to the water god Varuna with libations and the rest in order to get the tank filled; but even then the water would not stay.

  “‘The merchant was dejected. He would sit every day on the side of the tank, heaving sighs: ‘Alas, the water does not stay here. No method works at all. All this labour has been in vain.’ Once, while he was sitting thus, a supernatural voice was heard from the sky: ‘What is this, merchant’s son? Why do you heave sighs? This tank will have clear water only when it is sprinkled with blood from the neck of a man with the thirty-two auspicious marks, and not otherwise.’

  “‘On hearing these words, the merchant immediately applied his mind and thought of a method for accomplishing what he wanted. He had statues made with seven million pieces of gold as the price of blood from the neck of a man bearing the thirty-two marks, and got them set up by the side of the tank with a verse inscribed on a stone pillar there:

  If someone bearing the auspicious marks

  will sprinkle this tank with blood from

  his own neck, these statues of gold are his.

  “‘This message has been seen by everyone,” said the spies, “but none at all will accept such a heroic challenge. This is the great marvel we saw.”

  ‘This king’s curiosity was aroused immediately on hearing this account, and he proceeded with the two spies to the merchant’s reservoir. The temple of the waterborne god was located at its centre, and replicated well the building skill of Viśvakarmā, the divine architect. On eight sides of the temple were eight images of Bhairava, and those of Lambodara and other deities were placed on the border. The Lord of Dance, who is the beloved of the goddess Chandikā was also installed there, his circling arms flung out in a fierce tānḍava whirl.1 In front of the temple was to be seen a glistening stone pillar, fifty hands in height including the pedestal, with a beautiful image of the god Vishnu as a boar on the top. The god Parameśvara was located at a point on the bridge along with twenty-four other images set up in the same place. Food offerings, mainly cakes, were freely distributed at the temple, and the seven golden statues with the inscribed verse had been placed at its front.

  ‘King Vikramaditya himself saw the enormous reservoir and the enchanting tall temple of Vishnu the Waterborne. Marvelling greatly, he said to himself: “If I sprinkle the blood from my neck in this tank, it will get filled with water. This will benefit all people. It is a time of glory for me today, that I am in a position to help others. This body is bound to perish. Who knows what will happen, and when? Meanwhile I must fill this tank. Life is transitory, but fame abides as long as the moon and the stars.”

  ‘Vikrama then went into the sanctum of the temple before him, and offered worship and salutations to Vishnu the Waterborne. “O god of the waters,” he cried, “you desire blood from the neck of a man with the thirty-two auspicious marks. Be now satisfied with this blood from my neck, and fill this tank with water.” And as he then put the sword to his throat, the god held the blade, and said: “I am pleased with you, O hero. Choose a boon.”

  “‘If you are satisfied,” the king responded, “then make this tank full of water for the benefit of all. But this, and my coming here, should not be known by anyone.” “What depth of character and magnanimity does this man have!” said the god on hearing Vikrama’s reply. And the king returned to his capital. In the morning the people rejoiced to see the tank full, and the golden statues still standing there. “O how has this water come here!” they kept saying.’

  After telling this tale, the statuette said to King Bhoja: ‘Your Majesty, sit on this throne if you are also possessed of such magnanimity, b
enevolence, heroism, worth and similar virtues.’

  9. A Courtesan Rescued

  Once again the time was propitious with a favourable planetary aspect, and the king came up slowly to the throne. Observing his intention, another statuette intercepted him, saying ‘Listen!’ and recounted the ninth tale.

  ‘When Vikrama was the king, his minister was Bhatti, Govinda was the deputy minister, Chandra the commander-in-chief, and Trivikrama the court chaplain. This last had a son named Kamalākara who had always been spoilt. He enjoyed all the material comforts by his father’s favour, eating rice with clarified butter and indulging himself with fine garments, jewellery, betel leaves and other luxuries, but he was devoid of learning. Once the chaplain told his pleasure-loving son, his own heart melting with despair, “O Kamalākara, how can you live in this wilful way, even after having been born a brahmin? The soul goes through hundreds of births in all kinds of species before obtaining a human form as the result of some good deeds. Even then, it is only by the greatest of merits that it is possible to be born in a brahmin family. Having attained this, you still follow evil ways. You are always out, and return home only at meal times. You behaviour is really quite improper. Moreover, this is the time for you to study and acquire knowledge. If you do not do this now, it will bring you to grief later. It is said,

  Those who do not study and learn in childhood,

  and spoil their minds with carnal pleasures in youth,

  are despised in their old age as they wither away

  like the lotus in the winter.

  “‘And similarly,

  Those who have no learning,

  nor penance, charity, merit,

  virtue or even character:

  they are just a burden on this earth,

  mere animals wandering in the world

  of mortals in the garb of man.1