Volume 2 / Book 12 — Chapter LXXVIII. (Vetála 4.)

Then king Trivikramasena again went at night to that aśoka-tree in the cemetery: and he fearlessly took that Vetála that was in the corpse, though it uttered a horrible laugh, and placed it on his shoulder, and set out in silence. And as he was going along, the Vetála, that was on his shoulder, said to him again, “King, why do you take all this trouble for the sake of this wicked mendicant? In truth you show no discrimination in taking all this fruitless labour. So hear from me this story to amuse you on the way.”

Story of Víravara.

There is a city on the earth rightly named Śobhávatí. In it there lived a king of great valour, called Śúdraka. The fire of that victorious king’s might was perpetually fanned by the wind of the chowries waved by the captured wives of his enemies. I ween that the earth was so glorious during the reign of that king, owing to the uninterrupted practice of righteousness that prevailed, that she forgot all her other sovereigns, even Ráma.

Once on a time a Bráhman, of the name of Víravara, came from Málava to take service under that king who loved heroes. His wife’s name was Dharmavatí, his son was Sattvavara, and his daughter was Víravatí. These three composed his family; and his attendants were another three, at his side a dagger, a sword in one hand, and a splendid shield in the other. Although he had so small a retinue, he demanded from the king five hundred dínárs a day by way of salary. And king Śúdraka, perceiving that his appearance indicated great courage, gave him the salary he desired. But he felt curious to know whether, as his retinue was so small, he employed so many gold coins to feed his vices, or lavished them on some worthy object. So he had him secretly dogged by spies, in order to discover his mode of life. And it turned out that every day Víravara had an interview with the king in the morning, and stood at his palace-gate in the middle of the day, sword in hand; and then he went home and put into the hand of his wife a hundred dínárs of his salary for food, and with a hundred he bought clothes, unguents and betel; and after bathing, he set apart a hundred for the worship of Vishṇu and Śiva; and he gave two hundred by way of charity to poor Bráhmans. This was the distribution which he made of the five hundred every day. Then he fed the sacrificial fire with clarified butter and performed other ceremonies, and took food, and then he again went and kept guard at the gate of the palace alone at night, sword in hand. When the king Śúdraka heard from his spies, that Víravara always followed this righteous custom, he rejoiced in his heart; and he ordered those spies, who had dogged his path, to desist; and he considered him worthy of especial honour as a distinguished hero.

When the goddess Earth said this to Víravara, he said, “Goddess, I will go, and do it this very instant.” Then Earth said, “May success attend you!” and disappeared; and the king, who was secretly following Víravara, heard all this.

When Sattvavara said this, Víravara answered, “Bravo! you are in truth my own son.” And the king, who had followed them, and heard all this conversation from outside, said to himself, “Ah! they are all equal in courage.”

Then Víravara took his son Sattvavara on his shoulder, and his wife Dharmavatí took their daughter Víravatí, and they both went that very night to the temple of Chaṇḍí, and king Śúdraka followed them unobserved. Then Sattvavara was taken down by his father from his shoulder, and placed in front of the idol, and the boy, who was full of courage, bowed before the goddess, and said, “May the sacrifice of my head ensure the life of king Śúdraka! May he rule unopposed, goddess, for another hundred years!” When the boy Sattvavara said this, Víravara exclaimed, “Bravo!” and drew his sword and cut off his son’s head, and offered it to the goddess, saying, “May the sacrifice of my son save the king’s life!”—Immediately a voice was heard from the air, “Bravo! Víravara! What man is as devoted to his sovereign as thou, who, by the sacrifice of thy noble only son, hast bestowed on this king Śúdraka life and a kingdom?” Then that young girl Víravatí, the daughter of Víravara, came up, and embraced the head of her slain brother, and weeping, blinded with excessive grief, she broke her heart and so died. And the king saw and heard all this from his concealment.

Then Víravara’s wife Dharmavatí said to him, “We have ensured the prosperity of the king, so now I have something to say to you. Since my daughter, though a child and knowing nothing, has died out of grief for her brother, and I have lost these two children of mine, what is the use of life to me? Since I have been so foolish as not to offer my own head long ago to the goddess for the welfare of the king, give me leave to enter the fire with my children’s bodies.” When she urged this request, Víravara said to her, “Do so, and may prosperity attend you, for what pleasure could you find, noble woman, in continuing a life, that would for you be full of nothing but grief for your children. But do not be afflicted, because you did not sacrifice yourself. Would not I have sacrificed myself, if the object could have been attained by the sacrifice of any victim but our son? So wait until I have made a pyre for you with these pieces of timber, collected to build the fence round the sanctuary of the goddess.”

When Víravara had said this, he made a funeral pyre with the timber, and placed on it the bodies of his two children, and lighted it with the flame of a lamp. Then his virtuous wife Dharmavatí fell at his feet, and, after worshipping the goddess Chaṇḍí, she addressed to her this prayer, “May my present husband be my husband also in a future birth! And may the sacrifice of my life procure prosperity for the king his master!” When the virtuous woman had said this, she threw herself fearlessly into the burning pyre, from which the flames streamed up like hair.

Then the hero Víravara said to himself, “I have done what the king’s interests required, as the celestial voice testified, and I have paid my debt to my master for his food which I have eaten: so, as I am now left alone, why should I thus cling to life? It does not look well for a man like me to nurse his own life only, after sacrificing all his dear family, which it is his duty to maintain. So why should I not gratify Durgá by sacrificing myself?” Having thus reflected, he first approached the goddess with this hymn of praise:

“Hail to thee, thou slayer of the Asura Mahisha, destroyer of the Dánava Ruru, trident-bearing goddess! Hail to thee, best of mothers, that causest rejoicing among the gods, and upholdest the three worlds! Hail thou whose feet are worshipped by the whole earth, the refuge of those that are intent on final beatitude! Hail thou that wearest the rays of the sun, and dispellest the accumulated darkness of calamity! Hail to thee, Kálí, skull-bearing goddess, wearer of skeletons! Hail, Śivá! Honour to thee! Be propitious now to king Śúdraka on account of the sacrifice of my head!” After Víravara had praised the goddess in these words, he cut off his head with a sudden stroke of his sword.

King Śúdraka, who was a witness of all this from his place of concealment, was full of bewilderment, sorrow, and astonishment, and said to himself, “This worthy man and his family have performed for my sake a wonderful and difficult exploit never seen or heard of anywhere else. Though the world is wide and various, where could there be found a man so resolute as secretly to sacrifice his life for his master, without proclaiming the fact abroad? And if I do not requite this benefit, what is the use of my sovereignty, and of my protracting my life, which would only be like that of an animal?”

When the heroic king had thus reflected, he drew his sword from the sheath, and approaching the goddess, prayed thus to her, “Be propitious to me now, goddess, on account of this sacrifice of my head, and confer a boon on me, thy constant votary. Let this Bráhman Víravara, whose acts are in accordance with his name, and who sacrificed his life for my sake, be resuscitated with his family!” After uttering this prayer, king Śúdraka was preparing to cut off his head with his sword, but at that moment a voice was heard from the air, “Do not act rashly; I am pleased with this courage of thine; let the Bráhman Víravara be restored to life, together with his wife and his children!”—Having uttered so much, the voice ceased, and Víravara rose up alive and unwounded, with his son, his daughter, and his wife. When the king, who quickly concealed himself again, saw that marvel, he was never tired of looking at them with an eye full of tears of joy.

And Víravara quickly awoke as if from sleep, and, beholding his children and wife alive, and also himself, he was confused in mind. And he asked his wife and children, addressing them severally by name, “How have you returned to life after having been reduced to ashes? I too cut off my head: what is the meaning of my being now alive? Is this a delusion, or the manifest favour of the goddess?” When he said this, his wife and children answered him, “Our being alive is due to a merciful interposition of the goddess, of which we were not conscious.” Then Víravara came to the conclusion that it was so, and after worshipping the goddess, he returned home with his wife and children, having accomplished his object.

And after he had left his son, wife, and daughter there, he returned that very night to the palace-gate of the king, and stood there as before. King Śúdraka, for his part, who had beheld all unobserved, again went up to the roof of his palace. And he cried out from the roof, “Who is in attendance at the palace-gate?” Then Víravara said, “I myself am in waiting here, your Majesty. And in accordance with your orders I went in search of that woman, but she disappeared somewhere as soon as seen, like a Rákshasí.” When the king heard the speech of that Víravara, he was very much astonished, as he had himself seen what took place, and he said to himself, “Indeed people of noble spirit are deep and self-contained of soul as the sea, for when they have performed an unparalleled exploit, they do not utter any description of it.” Thus reflecting, the king silently descended from the roof of the palace, and entered his private apartments, and there spent the rest of the night.

And the next morning, Víravara came to present himself at the time of audience, and then the delighted king related to the ministers all that Víravara had gone through during the night, so that they were all, as it were, thunderstruck with wonder. Then the king gave to Víravara and his son the sovereignty over the provinces of Láṭa and Karṇáṭa, as a token of his regard. Then the two kings, Víravara and Śúdraka, being equal in power, lived happily in the interchange of mutual good offices.

When the Vetála had told this exceedingly wonderful story, he went on to say to king Trivikramasena, “So tell me, king, who was the bravest of all these, and if you know and do not tell, the curse, which I before mentioned, shall descend upon you.”

When the king heard this, he answered the Vetála, “King Śúdraka was the greatest hero of them all.” Then the Vetála said, “Was not Víravara greater, for his equal is not found on this earth? And was not his wife braver, who, though a mother, endured to witness with her own eyes the offering up of her son as a victim? And was not his son Sattvavara braver, who, though a mere child, displayed such preëminent courage? So why do you say that king Śúdraka was more heroic than these?”

When the Vetála said this, the king answered him, “Do not say so! Víravara was a man of high birth, one in whose family it was a tradition that life, son, and wife must be sacrificed to protect the sovereign. And his wife also was of good birth, chaste, worshipping her husband only, and her chief duty was to follow the path traced out for her by her husband. And Sattvavara was like them, being their son; assuredly, such as are the threads, such is the web produced from them. But Śúdraka excelled them all, because he was ready to lay down his life for those servants, by the sacrifice of whose lives kings are wont to save their own.”

When the Vetála heard that speech from that king, he at once left his shoulder, and returned invisibly to his former place by his supernatural power, but the king resolutely set out on his former path in that cemetery at night to bring him back again.

Note.

For the story of Víravara, see Vol. I, pp. 253 and 519. Oesterley refers us to Benfey’s Panchatantra, Vol. I, p. 414, where it is shown to be based upon the Asadṛiśa Játaka of Buddha. The story is found in the Persian Tútínámah, No 21, (in Iken, p. 89,) in a form resembling that in the Hitopadeśa. But there is another form which is No. 2 in the same work of Kaderi and found in the older Tútínámah, (p. 17 in Iken,) which seems to be based on the Vetála Panchavinśati. This is also found in the Turkish Tútínámah. Jánbáz saves the life of a king by the mere determination to sacrifice himself and his whole family. (Oesterley’s Baitál Pachísí, pp. 185–187.) Benfey refers us to No. 39 in Basile’s Pentamerone, [Liebrecht’s German translation, Vol. II, pp. 116–134,] and to No. 6 in Grimm’s Kinder-Märchen.