Volume 2 / Book 12 — Chapter LXX.
C. H. (Charles Henry) Tawney translation
Then Mṛigánkadatta was delighted at having obtained his object, and he worshipped Gaṇeśa, and mentally took a humble leave of his parents, and started off. And after they had gone a great distance from the town of Ayodhyá, the prince said to Prachaṇḍaśakti and the other nine ministers who were travelling with him, “There is here a great king of the Kirátas, named Śaktirakshita; he is a student in the sciences, observing a vow of chastity, and he is a friend of mine from childhood. For, when his father was long ago captured in battle, he sent him here to be imprisoned as a substitute for himself, in order to obtain his own release. And when his father died, his relations by the father’s side rose against him, and at my instigation my father established him on the throne of his father with a military force. So let us go to him, my friends, and then we will travel on to Ujjayiní, to find that Śaśánkavatí.”
When he said this, all the ministers exclaimed, “So be it,” and he set out with them and reached in the evening a great wilderness. It was devoid of trees and water, and it was with difficulty that at last he found a tank, with one withered tree growing upon its banks. There he performed the evening ceremonies, and drank water, and being fatigued, he went to sleep with his ministers under that dry tree. And in the night, which was illuminated by the moon, he woke up, and saw that the tree first put forth abundance of leaves, then of flowers, then of fruit. And when he saw its ripe fruit falling, he immediately woke up his ministers, and pointed out that marvel to them. Then they were astonished, and as they were hungry, he and they ate the delicious fruits of that tree together, and after they had eaten them, the dry tree suddenly became a young Bráhman, before the eyes of them all. And when Mṛigánkadatta questioned him, he told his tale in the following words.
Story of Śrutadhi.
After Śrutadhi had related his own history, he asked Mṛigánkadatta for his, and he told it him. Then Śrutadhi, who had no relations, and was well-read in policy, asked Mṛigánkadatta to permit him, as a favour, to attach himself to his service. So, after he had spent the night in this way, Mṛigánkadatta set out next morning with his ministers. And in the course of his journey he came to a forest named Karimaṇḍita. There he saw five wild looking men with long hair, who aroused his wonder. Then the five men came and respectfully addressed him as follows:
When thus invited by them, Mṛigánkadatta went with them to their hermitage, taking his companions with him, and spent the day there living on milk. And he set out from it in the morning, and in course of time he reached the country of the Kirátas, seeing other wonderful sights on the way. And he sent on Śrutadhi to inform his friend Śaktirakshita, the king of the Kirátas, of his arrival. When the sovereign of the Kirátas heard of it, he went to meet Mṛigánkadatta with great courtesy, and conducted him with his ministers into his city. Mṛigánkadatta told him the cause of his arrival, and remained there for some days, being entertained by him. And the prince arranged that Śaktirakshita should be ready to assist him in his undertaking when the proper time came, and then he set out, on an auspicious day, for Ujjayiní, with his eleven companions, having been captivated by Śaśánkavatí.
When he was destroyed, the snake laid aside his awful form, and cursed Mṛigánkadatta and his followers, for helping the ascetic, in the following words, “Since you did what was quite unnecessary after all coming here with this man, you shall be for a certain time separated from one another.” Then the snake disappeared, and all of them at the same time had their eyes dimmed with darkness, and were deprived of the power of hearing sounds. And they immediately went in different directions, separated from one another by the power of the curse, though they kept looking for one another and calling to one another. And when the delusion of the night was at an end, Mṛigánkadatta found himself roaming about in the wood without his ministers.
And, after two or three months had passed, the Bráhman Śrutadhi, who was looking for him, suddenly fell in with him. Mṛigánkadatta received him kindly, and asked for news of his ministers, whereupon Śrutadhi fell at his feet weeping, and consoled him, and said to him, “I have not seen them, prince, but I know they will go to Ujjayiní, for that is the place we all have to go to.” With these and similar speeches he urged the prince to go there, so Mṛigánkadatta set out with him slowly for Ujjayiní.
And after he had journeyed a few days, he found his own minister Vimalabuddhi who suddenly came that way. When the minister saw him, he bowed before him with eyes filled with tears at seeing him, and the prince embraced him, and making him sit down, he asked him for tidings of the other ministers. Then Vimalabuddhi said to that prince, who was so beloved by his servants, “I do not know, king, where each of them has gone in consequence of the curse of the snake. But hear how I know that you will find them again.”
The adventures of Vimalabuddhi after he was separated from the prince.
When the snake cursed me, I was carried far away by the curse, and wandered in the eastern part of the forest. And being fatigued, I was taken by a certain kind person to the hermitage of a certain hermit, named Brahmadaṇḍin. There my fatigue was removed by the fruits and water which the sage gave me, and, roaming away far from the hermitage, I saw a vast cave. I entered it out of curiosity, and I saw inside it a palace made of jewels, and I began to look into the palace through the lattice-windows. And lo! there was in it a woman causing to revolve a wheel with bees, and those bees made some of them for a bull, and others for a donkey, both which creatures were standing there. And some drank the foam of milk sent forth by the bull, and others the foam of blood sent forth by the donkey, and became white and black, according to the colour of the two objects on which they settled; and then they all turned into spiders. And the spiders, which were of two different colours, made two different-coloured webs with their excrements. And one set of webs was hung on wholesome flowers, and the other on poisonous flowers. And the spiders, that were clinging to those webs as they pleased, were bitten by a great snake which came there, having two mouths, one white, and the other black. Then the woman put them in various pitchers, but they got out again, and began to occupy the same webs again respectively. Then those, that were on the webs attached to the poisonous flowers, began to cry out, owing to the violence of the poison. And thereupon the others, that were on the other webs, began to cry out also. But the noise interrupted the meditation of a certain merciful ascetic who was there, who discharged fire at the webs. Then the webs, in which the spiders were entangled, were burnt up, and the spiders entered a hollow coral rod, and disappeared in a gleaming light at the top of it. In the meanwhile the woman disappeared with her wheel, her bull, and her donkey.
When I had seen this, I returned to the hermitage and described both those very wonderful spectacles to Brahmadaṇḍin. And that hermit, who knows the past, present, and future, kindly said to me, “You are fortunate; Śiva has shewn you all this by way of favour. That woman, whom you saw, is Illusion, and the wheel which she caused to revolve, is the wheel of mundane existence, and the bees are living creatures. And the bull and the donkey are respectively symbols of Righteousness and Unrighteousness, and the foam of milk and the foam of blood discharged by them, to which the bees repaired, are typical of good and evil actions. And they acquired properties arising from the things on which they respectively settled, and became spiders of two kinds, white and foul respectively; and then with their energy, which was symbolized by excrement, they produced entangling nets of two kinds, such as offspring and so on, which were attached to wholesome and poisonous flowers, which signify happiness and misery. And while clinging each to its own web, they were bitten by a snake, typical of Death, with its two mouths, the white set with the white mouth symbolical of good fortune, the other with the black mouth symbolical of evil fortune.
When Mṛigánkadatta had listened for a while to this strange story of Vimalabuddhi’s, he was much pleased, and after he had again deliberated with him, he set out for the city of Avanti, with the double object of accomplishing his enterprise and recovering his other ministers.