Volume 2 / Book 12 — Chapter CIII.

“So go secretly this very night, and carry off that princess from that sanctuary of Gaurí, which is now unfrequented, and bring her here without being observed. Let her be conveyed to the palace of Máyávaṭu; and then these kings, after securing your rear against the fury of the foe, shall come there with me. Let this fighting be put an end to. Do not allow any further slaughter of soldiers. And ensure the personal safety of yourself and the king your father-in-law. For war, that involves a great waste of human life, is an inexpedient expedient, and sages affirm it to be the worst of all political measures.”

At that moment her companions woke up, and distressed at not seeing her, began to look for her, and quickly came where she was. And they said, “Alas, friend, what is this that you have undertaken? Out on your rashness!” With these words they removed the noose from her neck. So, while the girl was standing there ashamed and despondent, a voice came from the inner shrine of Gaurí’s temple, “Do not despond, my daughter Śaśánkavatí; that word, fair one, that I spake to thee in a dream, cannot prove false. Here is that husband of thine in a former life, Mṛigánkadatta, come to thy side; go and enjoy with him the whole earth.”

While the guards were exclaiming in their distraction, “Who are these, and whither are they gone?” it gradually became known in Ujjayiní that the princess had been carried off. And the queen-consort hurriedly despatched the governor of the city to the camp, to tell king Karmasena what had taken place. But in the meanwhile the head of the scouts came to king Karmasena in the camp there at night, and and said to him, “King, Mṛigánkadatta and his ministers left the army secretly in the early part of this night, and went on horseback to Ujjayiní, to carry off Śaśánkavatí, who is in the temple of Gaurí. So much I have discovered for certain; your Highness knows what step it is now desirable to take.”

When king Karmasena heard this, he sent for his general, and communicated to him privately the information he had received, and said to him, “Choose five hundred swift horses, and set picked men on them, and go with them secretly and rapidly to Ujjayiní, and wherever you find that villain Mṛigánkadatta, kill him, or make him prisoner: know that I will follow you quickly, leaving my army behind me.” When the general received this order from the king, he said, “So be it,” and set out by night for Ujjayiní with the prescribed force. And on the way he met the governor of the town, from whom he heard that the princess had been carried off by some daring men in another direction. Then he returned with the governor of the town, and told king Karmasena what had taken place. When the king heard it, he thought it impossible, and remained quiet during the night, without making an attack. And in the camp of Mṛigánkadatta Máyávaṭu and the other kings passed the night under arms, by the advice of Śrutadhi.

And in the meanwhile Mṛigánkadatta, with Śaśánkavatí, had reached the palace of Máyávaṭu in the city of Kánchanapura. There the queens of Máyávaṭu welcomed him, and his companions, and his beloved, with becoming hospitality, and he rested there with them, having successfully accomplished his object. And the next day the kings came there with Śrutadhi; the heroic king of the Kirátas Śaktirakshita with his army, and the mighty king Máyávaṭu leader of the Śavaras, and the hero Durgapiśácha lord of the host of the Mátangas; and all of them, when they beheld Mṛigánkadatta united to Śaśánkavatí like the white water-lily to the night, rejoiced and congratulated him. And after they had shewn him the honour he deserved, they told him the message of Karmasena, and how he had gone to his own palace.

Then Śrutadhi said, “If you will listen, I will tell you what I think: my opinion is that you ought to go to the palace of Karmasena. For he sent you this message because he saw no other way out of the difficulty; otherwise, how would a powerful prince like that, when his daughter had been carried off, give up fighting, and go home? Moreover, what could he do to you, when you arrived at his court, since you would take your army with you? On the contrary, if you go there, he will be well-disposed to you, and he will again be one of your chief allies out of love for his daughter. The reason he makes this proposal, which is a perfectly legitimate one, is that he does not wish his daughter to be married in an irregular manner. So I think it advisable that you should go to Ujjayiní.” When Śrutadhi said this, all, who were present, approved his speech, and said, “Bravo! Bravo!”

Then Mṛigánkadatta said to them, “I admit the truth of all this; but I do not like to marry without my father and mother. So let some one be sent off from this place to summon my father and mother: and when I have learnt their wish, I will do what is proper.” When the hero had said this, he took the advice of his friends, and then and there sent off his minister Bhímaparákrama to his parents.

And in the meanwhile his father, king Amaradatta, in the city of Ayodhyá, found out in course of time from his subjects that the charge which Vinítamati brought against the prince, and which caused his banishment from his native land, was wholly groundless. Then, in his wrath, he put to death that wicked minister and his family, and fell into a pitiable state, being terribly afflicted on account of the banishment of his son. And he left his capital, and remained in a sanctuary of Śiva, outside the city, called Nandigráma; and there he and his wives gave themselves up to severe asceticism.

After he had remained there some time, Bhímaparákrama, whose approach was announced by scouts, arrived, thanks to the speed of his swift horse, at the city of Ayodhyá. He beheld that city plunged in despair, on account of the absence of the prince, as if it were once more going through the painful agitation caused by the exile of Ráma. Thence he went to Nandigráma, surrounded by citizens who asked him for news of the prince, and hearing from their mouths what had happened to the king. There he beheld king Amaradatta, with his body emaciated by asceticism, surrounded by his queens, eager for news of his beloved son.

Bhímaparákrama went up to him and fell at his feet: and the king embraced him, and asked for news of his son; and thereupon Bhímaparákrama said to him with tears; “Your son Mṛigánkadatta has won by his valour the princess Śaśánkavatí, the daughter of king Karmasena. But, as he is devoted to his parents, it does not seem at all becoming to him to marry her, unless the king and the queen can be present at the ceremony. So your son, placing his head upon the ground, has sent me to request you to come to him. And he awaits your Highness’s arrival, in Kánchanapura, in the palace of king Máyávaṭu, the monarch of the Śavaras. Now hear the story of our adventures.” And thereupon Bhímaparákrama began with the banishment of his master, and related all his various and wonderful adventures, involving the long story of the misfortunes of their forest sojourn and their separation, with the war, and winding up with the prince’s reconciliation with Karmasena.

When king Amaradatta heard that, he made up his mind that it was well with his son, and in his joy he announced that he would set out that moment. He mounted an elephant, and accompanied by his queen, his subject kings, and his ministers, and followed by a force of elephants and cavalry, he started full of eagerness to join his son. And travelling uninterruptedly, the king reached in a few days his son’s camp, that was pitched in the territory of the monarch of the Śavaras.

And when Mṛigánkadatta, who had long been yearning for his father, heard of his approach, he went out to meet him with all the kings. And he saw him from a distance, and dismounted from his horse, and fell at the feet of his father, who was seated on an elephant, and at the feet of his mother. And when embraced by his father, he filled with his body his clasping arms, with satisfaction his heart, and his eyes with tears. His mother too folded him in a long embrace, and looking at him again and again, was for some time unable to let him go, as if fearing a second separation. And Mṛigánkadatta introduced to his father Amaradatta the kings his friends, and they bowed before him and the queen. And that couple, the king and the queen, received lovingly those friends who had stood by their only son in his difficulties.

Then Amaradatta entered the palace of Máyávaṭu, and saw Śaśánkavatí, his future daughter-in-law, who bowed at his feet. And after accepting a present, he departed with the queen and that daughter-in-law, and took up his quarters in his own camp. And there he took food with his son and all the kings, and spent that day agreeably with song, music, and dancing. And he thought that all his objects in life had been gained, thanks to his son Mṛigánkadatta, the future emperor, who had attained so much glory.

And in the meanwhile the wise king Karmasena, after deliberating, sent off an ambassador to Mṛigánkadatta with the following message, which was contained in a letter, and also intended to be delivered by word of mouth; “I know that you will not come to Ujjayiní; so I will send to you my own son Susheṇa; he will bestow on you with due ceremonies his sister Śaśánkavatí; so you ought not, blameless one, to marry her in an irregular manner, if you value my friendship.”

And when the prince had heard this message delivered in the royal hall of audience, his father the king himself gave this answer to the ambassador; “Who but king Karmasena would send such a gracious message? That excellent monarch is truly well-disposed to us; so let him send here his son Susheṇa; we will so order matters as that his daughter’s marriage shall give him satisfaction.” When the king had given this answer and dismissed the messenger with due honours, he said to his son, and Śrutadhi, and the kings, “We had better go now to Ayodhyá; that is the place where the marriage can be performed with most éclat; and there we can entertain Susheṇa with becoming magnificence. And let king Máyávaṭu wait here for Susheṇa; when that prince arrives he can come on after us to Ayodhyá with him. But we will go on in front to make the necessary preparations for the marriage.” And all present approved this speech of the king’s.

Then, the next day, the king with the queen and his soldiers, and Mṛigánkadatta with the kings and his ministers, started off with Śaśánkavatí, exulting in their success, leaving Máyávaṭu to wait there for Susheṇa. Their army moved on like a deep and terrible sea, agitated with hundreds of waves in the form of troops of bounding horses, filling all the horizon with a flood of countless marching footmen, rendering all other sounds inaudible with the confused din that arose from it. And gradually advancing, father and son reached the palace of Śaktirakshita the king of the Kirátas, that lay in their course.

There they and their attendants were courteously and generously welcomed with heaps of valuable jewels, gold, and splendid garments. And they stayed there one day with their army, taking food and resting, and then they set out and reached in course of time their city of Ayodhyá. It seemed like a lake in windy weather, as they entered it: for the ladies of the city that had climbed up to the windows of the palaces, as they moved to and fro, seemed like swaying full-blown lotuses, sending forth shoots of beauty; and their rolling eyes eager to behold the prince, who after a long absence had returned, bringing a bride with him, were like dancing blue lilies; it was crowded with assembling kingly swans; and tossing with wavy banners. And father and son looked grand, as they sat on thrones, being blessed by the Bráhmans, praised by heralds, and hymned by bards.

And when the people there saw the great beauty of Śaśánkavatí, they exclaimed in their astonishment, “If they were to behold this daughter of Karmasena, the Ocean would cease to boast of the beauty of his daughter Lakshmí, and the Himálaya would no longer pride himself on Gaurí.” And then, when the festival came on, the quarters, re-echoing the sound of the auspicious drums of rejoicing, as it were, gave notice to the kings. And the whole city was full of exultation, and the vermilion colours that covered it throughout, seemed like its red glow of affection overflowing in external form.

The next day the astrologers fixed an auspicious date for the prince’s marriage, and his father king Amaradatta began to make preparations for it. And the city was filled so full of various jewels, coming from all quarters, that it put to shame the city of Kuvera.

And soon a servant of king Máyávaṭu’s came to the sovereign in high spirits, introduced by the warder, and said to him, “King, prince Susheṇa and king Máyávaṭu have arrived, and they are both waiting on the frontier of this realm of Ayodhyá.” When king Amaradatta heard that, he sent his own general with a body of soldiers to meet Susheṇa. And Mṛigánkadatta, out of regard for his friend, also went out with the general from Ayodhyá to meet the prince. And both of those princes dismounted, while yet a great distance apart, and met together, embracing one another and asking after one another’s health. And out of love they entered the city in the same chariot, giving a great feast to the eyes of the ladies of the city.

And there Susheṇa had an interview with the king, and was received by him with much respect, and then he went to the private apartments of his sister Śaśánkavatí. There she rose up weeping and embraced him, and he sat down, and said to the princess who was overwhelmed with shame, “My father directs me to tell you that you have done nothing unbecoming, for he has just come to learn that prince Mṛigánkadatta was appointed your husband by the goddess Gaurí in a dream, and it is the highest duty of women to follow the steps of their husbands.” When he said this to the girl, she dismissed her shame, looking at her heart with downcast face, as if to tell it that its desire was gained.

The next day dawned, the day fixed as auspicious, and Mṛigánkadatta performed his own daily ceremony, of bathing and so on; in which the king himself displayed the utmost interest, in his joy at the occasion. And then Śaśánkavatí, though her beauty was sufficient bridal ornament, was solemnly adorned by the ladies, only out of regard for the good old custom, not because anything of the kind was needed. Then the bride and bridegroom left the room in which the previous ceremony took place, and in which Susheṇa presided, and ascended the altar-platform, where a fire was burning. And on it the prince received the hand of the princess, which was resplendent with the hues of a lotus that she held, as Vishṇu the hand of Lakshmí. And when they circumambulated the fire, the face of Śaśánkavatí was red and tearful from heat and smoke, though anger was far from her. And the handfuls of parched grain, thrown into the fire, appeared like the laughs of the god of Love, pleased with the success of his scheme. And when the first handful was thrown, Susheṇa gave five thousand horses, and a hundred elephants, and two hundred bháras of gold, and twenty camels laden with loads of splendid raiment, valuable gems, and pearl-ornaments. And at each subsequent sprinkling of grain, Śaśánkavatí’s brother gave her a portion of the wealth gained by the conquest of the earth, double that given at the preceding.

Then Mṛigánkadatta, the auspicious ceremony of his marriage having been performed, entered his own palace with his newly married bride, Śaśánkavatí, while the sound of festal drums rose in the air. And the king, his father, gratified his ministers and the citizens of his capital, with presents of elephants, horses, garments, ornaments, meat, and drink, suited to the worth of the recipient, beginning with the circle of dependent monarchs, and ending with the parrots and pet mainas. And the king displayed on this occasion such exceedingly lavish generosity that even the trees had garments and gems fastened to them, and presented the appearance of earthly wishing-trees.

Then his father, king Amaradatta, prolonged for seven days the great feast, in which the king’s highway was decorated, and the subject kings honoured according to their worth. And on the eighth day he went out of the city with his wife, and after turning back Mṛigánkadatta and the citizens, who followed him with tearful faces, he went with his ministers to Váráṇasí. There the king remained with his body steeped in Ganges water, worshipping Śiva three times a day, performing penance, like a hermit, by living on roots and fruits; and his wife shared all his devotions and privations.

When the hermit Piśangajaṭa had told this story in the wood on the Malaya mountain to Naraváhanadatta, who was separated from his beloved, he went on to say to him, “So, my son, as Mṛigánkadatta in old time gained Śaśánkavatí after enduring affliction, you also will regain your Madanamanchuká.” When Naraváhanadatta had heard this nectarous utterance of the mighty hermit Piśangajaṭa, he conceived in his heart the hope of regaining Madanamanchuká. And with his mind fixed on her, he took leave of that good hermit, and roamed about on the Malaya mountain, looking for Lalitalochaná, whom he had lost, the fair one that originally brought him there.