Note 179 — KĀDAMBARĪ.

‘“‘And for me, when shall I behold my queen ready to bear a child, pale as the fourteenth night when the rising of the full moon is at hand; and when will her attendants, hardly able to bear the joy of the great festival of the birth of my son, carry the full basket of gifts? When will my queen gladden me wearing yellow robes, and holding a son in her arms, like the sky with the newly-risen sun and the early sunlight; and when will a son give me joy of heart, with his curly hair yellow with many a plant, a few ashes mixed with mustard-seed on his palate, which has a drop of ghī on it as a talisman, (131) and a thread bright with yellow dye round his neck, as he lies on his back and smiles with a little toothless mouth; when will this baby destroy all the darkness of sorrow in my eyes like an auspicious lamp welcomed by all the people, handed from one to another by the zenana attendants, shining tawny with yellow dye; and when will he adorn the courtyard, as he toddles round it, followed by my heart and my eyes, and gray with the dust of the court; and when will he walk from one place to another and the power of motion be formed in his knees, so that, like a young lion, he may try to catch the young tame deer screened behind the crystal walls? And when, running about at will in the courtyard, will he run after the tame geese, accompanied by the tinkling of the anklets of the zenana, and weary his nurse, who will hasten after him, following the sound of the bells of his golden girdle; (132) and when will he imitate the antics of a wild elephant, and have his cheeks adorned with a line of ichor painted in black aloe, full of joy at the sound of the bell held in his mouth, gray with the dust of sandal-wood scattered by his uplifted hand, shaking his head at the beckoning of the hooked finger; and when will he disguise the faces of the old chamberlains with the juice of handfuls of lac left after being used to colour his mother’s feet; and when, with eyes restless in curiosity, will he bend his glance on the inlaid floors, and with tottering steps pursue his own shadow; and when will he creep about during the audience in front of me as I stand in my audience-hall, with his eyes wandering bewildered by the rays of the gems, and have his coming welcomed by the outstretched arms of a thousand kings? Thinking on a hundred such desires, I pass my nights in suffering. Me, too, the grief arising from our want of children burns like a fire day and night. The world seems empty; I look on my kingdom as without fruit. But what can I do towards Brahmā, from whom there is no appeal? Therefore, my queen, cease thy continual grief. Let thy heart be devoted to endurance and to duty. For increase of blessings is ever nigh at hand for those who set their thoughts on duty.’ (133) Thus saying, with a hand like a fresh tendril, he took water and wiped her tear-stained face, which showed as an opening lotus; and having comforted her again and again with many a speech sweet with a hundred endearments, skilled to drive away grief, and full of instruction about duty, he at last left her. And when he was gone, Vilāsavatī’s sorrow was a little soothed, and she went about her usual daily duties, such as putting on of her adornments. And from that time forth she was more and more devoted to propitiating the gods, honouring Brahmans, and paying reverence to all holy persons; whatever recommendation she heard from any source she practised in her longing for a child, nor did she count the fatigue, however great; she slept within the temples of Durgā, dark with smoke of bdellium ceaselessly burnt, on a bed of clubs covered with green grass, fasting, her pure form clothed in white raiment; (134) she bathed under cows endued with auspicious marks, adorned for the occasion by the wives of the old cowherds in the herd-stations, with golden pitchers laden with all sorts of jewels, decorated with branches of the pipal, decked with divers fruits and flowers and filled with holy water; every day she would rise and give to Brahmans golden mustard-leaves adorned with every gem; she stood in the midst of a circle drawn by the king himself, in a place where four roads meet, on the fourteenth night of the dark fortnight, and performed auspicious rites of bathing, in which the gods of the quarters were gladdened by the various oblations offered; she honoured the shrines of the siddhas and sought the houses of neighbouring Mātṛikās,179 in which faith was displayed by the people; she bathed in all the celebrated snake-ponds; with a sun-wise turn, she worshipped the pipal and other trees to which honour was wont to be shown; after bathing, with hands circled by swaying bracelets, she herself gave to the birds an offering of curds and boiled rice placed in a silver cup; she offered daily to the goddess Durgā a sacrifice consisting of parched grain of oblation, boiled rice, sesamum sweetmeats, cakes, unguents, incense, and flowers, in abundance; (135) she besought, with a mind prostrate in adoration, the naked wandering ascetics, bearing the name of siddhas, and carrying their begging-bowls filled by her; she greatly honoured the directions of fortune-tellers; she frequented all the soothsayers learned in signs; she showed all respect to those who understood the omens of birds; she accepted all the secrets handed down in the tradition of a succession of venerable sages; in her longing for the sight of a son, she made the Brahmans who came into her presence chant the Veda; she heard sacred stories incessantly repeated; she carried about little caskets of mantras filled with birch-leaves written over in yellow letters; she tied strings of medicinal plants as amulets; even her attendants went out to hear passing sounds and grasped the omens arising from them; she daily threw out lumps of flesh in the evening for the jackals; she told the pandits the wonders of her dreams, and at the cross-roads she offered oblation to Çiva.