Volume 2 / Book 12 — Chapter LXXXVI. (Vetála 12)

Then king Trivikramasena again went to the aśoka-tree, and recovered the Vetála, and placed him on his shoulder, and set out with him again silently, as before. Then the Vetála again said to him from his seat on his shoulder; “King, I love you much because you are so indomitable, so listen, I will tell you this delightful story to amuse you.”

Story of king Yaśaḥketu, his Vidyádharí wife, and his faithful minister.

When Dírghadarśin’s wife said this to him, he said, “I will do so,” and he went and said to the king Yaśaḥketu in the course of conversation, “Give me leave to depart, king, I am going on a pilgrimage for some days, for my heart is set on that religious duty.” When the king heard that, he said, “Do not do so! Cannot you, without going on pilgrimages, perform in your house noble religious duties, such as charity and so on, which will procure you heaven?” When the minister heard this, he said, “King, that purity which comes of wealth is sought by charity and so on, but holy bathing-places have an everlasting purity. And a wise man must visit them, while he is young; for otherwise how can he be sure of reaching them, as this body cannot be relied on?” While he was saying this, and the king was still trying to dissuade him, a warder entered, and said to the king, “King, the sun is plunging into the middle of the lake of heaven, so rise up, this is the hour appointed for you to bathe in, and it is rapidly passing away.” When the king heard this, he immediately rose up to bathe, and the minister, whose heart was set on pilgrimage, bowed before him, and went home to his own house.

There he left his wife, whom he forbade to follow him, and managed cunningly to set out in secret, without even his servants suspecting his departure. And alone he wandered from country to country with resolute perseverance, and visited holy bathing-places, and at last he reached the land of Pauṇḍra. In a certain city in that country not far from the sea, he entered a temple of Śiva, and sat down in a courtyard attached to it. There a merchant, named Nidhidatta, who had come to worship the god, saw him exhausted with the heat of the sun’s rays, dusty with his long journey. The merchant, being a hospitable man, seeing that the traveller, who was in such a state, wore a Bráhmanical thread, and had auspicious marks, concluded that he was a distinguished Bráhman, and took him home to his own house. There he honoured him with a bath, food, and other refreshments in the most luxurious style, and when his fatigue was removed, he said to him, “Who are you, whence do you come, and where are you going?” And the Bráhman gave him this reserved answer; “I am a Bráhman of the name of Dírghadarśin; I have come here on pilgrimage from the land of Anga.” Then the merchant prince Nidhidatta said to him, “I am about to go on a trading expedition to the Island of Gold; so you must live in my house, until I return; and then you will have recovered from the fatigue which you have incurred by roaming to holy places, and you can go home.” When Dírghadarśin heard that, he said, “Why should I remain here? I will go with you, great merchant, if you like.” The good man said, “So be it,” and then the minister, who had long discarded the use of beds, spent that night in his house.

The next day he went with that merchant to the sea, and embarked on a ship laden with his merchandise. He travelled along in that ship, and beheld the awful and wonderful ocean, and in course of time reached the Isle of Gold. What had a man holding the office of prime minister to do with sea-voyages? But what will not men of honour do to prevent their fame from being sullied? So he remained some time in that island with that merchant Nidhidatta, who was engaged in buying and selling.

And as he was returning with him on the ship, he suddenly saw a wave rise up, and then a wishing-tree arise out of the sea; it was adorned with boughs glittering with gold, which were embellished with sprays of coral, and bore lovely fruits and flowers of jewels. And he beheld on its trunk a maiden, alluring on account of her wonderful beauty, reclining on a gem-bestudded couch. He reflected for a moment, “Dear me! What can this be?” And thereupon the maiden, who had a lyre in her hand, began to sing this song, “Whatever seed of works any man has sown in a former life, of that he, without doubt, eats the fruit; for even fate cannot alter what has been done in a previous state of existence.” When the heavenly maiden had sung this song, she immediately plunged into that sea, with the wishing-tree, and the couch on which she was reclining. Then Dírghadarśin reflected, “I have to-day seen a wonderful sight; one would never have expected to find in the sea a tree, with a heavenly maiden singing on it, appearing and disappearing as soon as beheld. Or rather, this admirable treasure-house of the sea is ever the same; did not Lakshmí, and the moon, and the Párijáta tree, and other precious things come out of it?” But the steersman and the rest of the crew, perceiving that Dírghadarśin was astonished and puzzled, said to him, “This lovely woman always appears here in the same way, and sinks down again at once; but this sight is new to you.”

This is what they said to the minister, but he still continued in a state of wonder, and so he reached in course of time on the ship, with that Nidhidatta, the coast for which they were making. There the merchant disembarked his wares, gladdening the hearts of his servants, and the minister went in high spirits with him to his house, which was full of mirth at his arrival. And after he had remained there a short time, he said to Nidhidatta, “Merchant prince, I have long reposed comfortably in your house, now I wish to return to my own land; I wish you all happiness.” With these words he took leave of the merchant prince, who was sorely unwilling to let him go, and with his virtue for his only companion he set out thence, and having in course of time accomplished the long journey, he reached his own native land of Anga.

The moment the king heard all this, he fell so deeply in love with her, that he considered his kingdom and life valueless without her. And taking his minister aside, he said to him, “I must certainly see that maiden, otherwise I cannot live. I will go by the way which you have described, after worshipping Fate. And you must not dissuade, and you must by no means follow me, for I will travel alone incognito, and in the meanwhile you must take care of my kingdom. Do not disobey my order, otherwise my death will lie at your door.” Thus spake the king, and refused to hear his minister’s answer, and then dismissed him to his own house to see his relations, who had long been wishing for his return. There, in the midst of great rejoicing Dírghadarśin remained despondent; how can good ministers be happy, when their lord’s vices are incurable?

When the merchant Lakshmídatta saw that unexpected sight, the good man thought the king had perished, and was so afflicted that he was on the point of committing suicide, but he was consoled by the following utterance, that came from the heavens, “Do not act rashly; he is not in danger, though he has plunged into the sea; this king, Yaśaḥketu by name, has come, disguised as an ascetic, to obtain this very maiden, for she was his wife in a former state of existence, and as soon as he has won her, he shall return to his realm of Anga.” Then the merchant continued his intended voyage, to accomplish his purposes.

And one day, while the king was living happily with Mṛigánkavatí, she said to him, “You must stop here, while I go somewhere for a certain business, for to-day is the fourteenth day of the black fortnight of which I spoke to you. And while you are waiting here, my husband, you must not enter this crystal pavilion, lest you should fall into a lake there and go to the world of men.” When she had said this, she took leave of him, and went out of that city, and the king took his sword and followed her secretly, determined to penetrate the mystery.

Such were the reflections of the prime minister; while the rest of his subjects were full of joy at the return of the king, and of astonishment at his having won the celestial nymph. But Mṛigánkavatí, seeing that the king had returned to his own kingdom, longed, as the seven days were completed, to return to the home of the Vidyádharas. But the science of flying up into the air did not appear to her, though she called it to mind. Then she felt as one robbed of a treasure, and was in the deepest despondency. And the king said to her, “Why do you suddenly appear despondent, tell me, my darling?” Then the Vidyádharí answered him, “Because I remained so long, after I had been released from my curse, out of love for you, my science has abandoned me, and I have lost the power of returning to my heavenly home.” When king Yaśaḥketu heard this, he said, “Ha! I have now won this Vidyádharí,” and so his rejoicing was complete.

When the minister Dírghadarśin saw this, he went home, and at night, when he was in bed, he suddenly died of a broken heart. And Yaśaḥketu, after he had mourned for him, remained long bearing the burden of empire himself, with Mṛigánkavatí for his consort.

When the Vetála, seated on the shoulder of king Trivikramasena, had told him this story on the way, he went on to say to him, “So tell me, king; why did the heart of that great minister suddenly break, when his master had thus succeeded so completely? Did his heart break through grief at not having won the nymph himself? Or was it because he longed for the sovereign power, and thus was disappointed at the king’s return? And if you know this, king, and do not tell me on the spot, your merit will at once disappear, and your head will fly in pieces.” When king Trivikramasena heard that, he said to the Vetála; “Neither of these two feelings actuated that excellent and virtuous minister. But he said to himself; ‘This king neglected his kingdom out of devotion to mere human females, much more will he do so now, that he is attached to a heavenly nymph. So, though I have gone through much suffering, the disease has been aggravated by it, instead of being cured, as I had hoped.’ It was under the influence of such reflections that the minister’s heart broke.” When the king had said this, that juggling Vetála returned to his own place, and the resolute king ran swiftly after him, to bring him back again by force.