Volume 2 / Book 17 — Chapter CXIV.

Thus Naraváhanadatta, who had been established in the position of lord paramount over all the kings of the Vidyádharas, remained on that Black Mountain in order to get through the rainy season, spending the time in the hermitage of that sage Kaśyapa, and in the society of his maternal uncle Gopálaka, who was living the life of an ascetic. He was accompanied by his ministers, and surrounded by twenty-five of his wives, and attended by various Vidyádhara princes, and he occupied himself in telling tales. One day, the hermits and his wives said to him, “Tell us now! When Mánasavega took away queen Madanamanchuká by his magic power, who amused you impatient of separation, and how did he do it?”

When the king said this to his minister Śivabhúti, he answered him, “Do not be anxious; there is a means of bringing about what you desire; listen, king; I will tell you what it is. Owing to the various influence of actions in a previous birth, various is this infinite host of sentient beings produced by the Creator in this versatile world. This world is really fraught with woe, but owing to delusion there arises in creatures the fancy that happiness is to be found in it, and they take pleasure in house, and food, and drink, and so become attached to it. And Providence has appointed that different kinds of food, drink, and dwellings, should be agreeable to different creatures, according to the classes to which they respectively belong. So have made, king, a great lake to be the dwelling-place of these swans, covered with various kinds of lotuses, and watched by guards, where they will be free from molestation. And keep always scattering on the bank food of the kind that birds love, in order that water-birds may quickly come there from various quarters. Among them these two golden swans will certainly come; and then you will be able to gaze on them continually: do not be despondent.”

Now, one day, as the king was roaming along the bank of the lake, he saw in one place a pious offering made with unfading flowers. And he said to the guards there, “Who made this offering?” Then the guards of the lake said to the king, “Every day, at dawn, noon, and sunset, these golden swans bathe in the lake, and make these offerings, and stand absorbed in contemplation: so we cannot say, king, what is the meaning of this great wonder.” When the king heard this from the guards, he said to himself, “Such a proceeding is quite inconsistent with the nature of swans; surely there must be a reason for this. So, I will perform asceticism until I find out who these swans are.” Then the king and his wife and his minister gave up food, and remained performing penance and absorbed in meditation on Śiva. And after the king had fasted for twelve days, the two heavenly swans came to him, and said to him in a dream with articulate voice, “Rise up, king; to-morrow we will tell you and your wife and minister, after you have broken your fast, the whole truth of the matter in private.” When the swans had said this, they disappeared, and next morning the king and his wife and his minister, as soon as they awoke, rose up, and broke their fast. And after they had eaten, the two swans came to them, as they were sitting in a pleasure-pavilion near the water. The king received them with respect, and said to them, “Tell me who you are.” Then they proceeded to tell him their history.

How Párvatí condemned her five attendants to be reborn on earth.

There is a monarch of mountains famous on the earth under the name of Mandara, in whose groves of gleaming jewels all the gods roam, on whose table-lands, watered with nectar from the churned sea of milk, are to be found flowers, fruits, roots, and water, that are antidotes to old age and death. Its highest peaks, composed of various precious stones, form the pleasure-grounds of Śiva, and he loves it more than mount Kailása.

There, one day, that god left Párvatí, after he had been diverting himself with her, and disappeared, to execute some business for the gods. Then the goddess, afflicted by his absence, roamed in the various places where he loved to amuse himself, and the other gods did their best to console her.

And one day the goddess was much troubled by the advent of spring, and she was sitting surrounded by the Gaṇas at the foot of a tree, thinking about her beloved, when a noble Gaṇa, named Maṇipushpeśvara, looked lovingly at a young maiden, the daughter of Jayá, called Chandralekhá, who was waving a chowrie over the goddess. He was a match for her in youth and beauty, and she met his glance with a responsive look of love, as he stood by her side. Two other Gaṇas, named Pingeśvara and Guheśvara, when they saw that, interchanged glances, and a smile passed over their faces. And when the goddess saw them smiling, she was angry in her heart, and she cast her eyes hither and thither, to see what they were laughing at in this unseemly manner. And then she saw that Chandralekhá and Maṇipushpeśvara were looking lovingly in one another’s faces.

“Now, king, hear the long and strange story of these two, Pingeśvara and Guheśvara.”

Story of the metamorphoses of Pingeśvara and Guheśvara.

Then those two wretched sons, bereaved of their father, and without subsistence, having had their grant taken from them by their relations, said to one another, “We are now reduced to living on alms, but we get no alms here. So we had better go to the house of our maternal grandfather, though it is far off. Though we have come down in the world, who on earth would welcome us, if we arrive of our own accord. Nevertheless let us go. What else indeed are we to do, for we have no other resource?”

After deliberating to this effect they went, begging their way, by slow stages, to that royal grant, where the house of their grandfather was. There the unfortunate young men found out, by questioning people, that their grandfather, whose name was Somadeva, was dead, and his wife also.

Then, begrimed with dust, they entered despairing the house of their maternal uncles named Yajnadeva and Kratudeva. There those good Bráhmans welcomed them kindly, and gave them food and clothing, and they remained engaged in study. But in course of time the wealth of their maternal uncles diminished, and they could keep no servants, and then they came and said to those nephews in the most affectionate way, “Dear boys, we can no longer afford to keep a man to look after our cattle, as we have become poor, so do you look after our cattle for us.” When Harisoma and Devasoma’s uncles said this to them, their throats were full of tears, but they agreed to their proposal. Then they took the cattle to the forest every day, and looked after them there, and at evening they returned home with them, wearied out.

Then, as they went on looking after the cattle, owing to their falling asleep in the day, some animals were stolen, and others were eaten by tigers. That made their uncles very unhappy: and one day a cow and goat intended for sacrifice, belonging to their uncles, both disappeared somewhere or other. Terrified at that, they took the other animals home before the right time, and running off in search of the two that were missing, they entered a distant forest. There they saw their goat half eaten by a tiger, and after lamenting, being quite despondent, they said, “Our uncles were keeping this goat for a sacrifice, and now that it is destroyed, their anger will be something tremendous. So let us dress its flesh with fire, and eat enough of it to put an end to our hunger, and then let us take the rest, and go off somewhere and support ourselves by begging.”

But one day they rushed upon an ascetic, who possessed supernatural power, to slay him, and he in self-defence cursed them, and they became Piśáchas. And in their condition as Piśáchas, they were carrying off the cow of a Bráhman, to kill it, but they were overpowered by his spells, and reduced by his curse to the condition of Chaṇḍálas.

And one night those chiefs marched with their followers to plunder a large town, a favourite abode of Śiva, which some of their spies had selected for attack. Though they saw an evil omen, they did not turn back, and they reached and plundered the whole city and the temple of the god. Then the inhabitants cried to the god for protection, and Śiva in his wrath bewildered the bandits by making them blind. And the citizens suddenly perceiving that, and thinking that it was due to the favour of Śiva, assembled and smote those bandits with sticks and stones. And Gaṇas, moving about invisibly, flung some of the bandits into ravines, and dashed others to pieces against the ground.

And the people, seeing the two leaders, were about to put them to death, but they immediately turned into bob-tailed dogs. And in this transformation they suddenly remembered their former birth, and danced in front of Śiva, and fled to him for protection. When the citizens, Bráhmans, merchants, and all, saw that, they were delighted at being free from fear of robbers, and went laughing to their houses. And then the delusion, that had possessed those two beings now turned into dogs, disappeared, and they awoke to reality, and in order to put an end to their curse, they fasted, and appealed to Śiva by severe asceticism. And the next morning, the citizens, making high festival and worshipping Śiva, beheld those dogs absorbed in contemplation, and though they offered them food, the creatures would not touch it.

And the two dogs remained in this state for several days, beheld by all the world, and then Śiva’s Gaṇas preferred this prayer to him, “O god, these two Gaṇas, Pingeśvara and Guheśvara, who were cursed by the goddess, have been afflicted for a long time, so take pity on them.” When the holy god heard that, he said, “Let these two Gaṇas be delivered from their canine condition and became crows!” Then they became crows, and broke their fast upon the rice of the offering, and lived happily, remembering their former state, exclusively devoted to Śiva.

After some time, Śiva having been satisfied by their devotion to him, they became by his command first vultures, and then peacocks; then those noble Gaṇas, in course of time, became swans; and in that condition also they strove with the utmost devotion to propitiate Śiva. And at last they gained the favour of that god by bathing in sacred waters, by performing vows, by meditations, and acts of worship, and they became all composed of gold and jewels, and attained supernatural insight.

“Know that we are those very two, Pingeśvara and Guheśvara, who by the curse of Párvatí endured a succession of woes, and have now become swans. But the Gaṇa Maṇipushpeśvara, who was in love with the daughter of Jayá, and was cursed by the goddess, has become a king upon earth, even yourself, Brahmadatta. And that daughter of Jayá has been born as this lady, your wife Somaprabhá; and that Dhúrjaṭa has been born as this your minister Śivabhúti. And therefore we, having attained insight, and remembering the end of the curse appointed by Párvatí, appeared to you at night. By means of that artifice we have all been re-united here to-day; and we will bestow on you the perfection of insight.