Volume 2 / Book 18 — Chapter CXXII.

Then king Vikramáditya reached that victorious army commanded by that Vikramaśakti his general, and he entered it at the head of his forces, accompanied by that general, who came to meet him, eager and with loyal mind, together with the vassal kings.

The kings were thus announced by the warders in the tent of assembly, “Your Majesty, here is Śaktikumára the king of Gauḍa come to pay you his respects, here is Jayadhvaja the king of Karṇáṭa, here is Vijayavarman of Láṭa, here is Sunandana of Kaśmíra, here is Gopála king of Sindh, here is Vindhyabala the Bhilla, and here is Nirmúka the king of the Persians.” And when they had been thus announced, the king honoured them, and the feudal chiefs, and also the soldiers. And he welcomed in appropriate fashion the daughter of the king of Sinhala, and the heavenly maidens, and the golden deer, and Vikramaśakti. And the next day the successful monarch Vikramáditya set out with them and his forces, and reached the city of Ujjayiní.

And at that moment the Yakshiṇí Madanamanjarí appeared, and gave those two heavenly maidens countless heaps of jewels. The Yakshí said, “How can I ever, king, recompense you for your benefits? But I have done this unimportant service to testify my devotion to you. So you must shew favour to these maidens, and to the deer.” When the Yakshí had said this, she departed honoured by the king.

Then the successful king Vikramáditya, having obtained those wives and the earth with all its dvípas, ruled a realm void of opponents; and he enjoyed himself roaming in all the garden grounds; during the hot season living in the water of tanks and in artificial fountain-chambers, during the rains in inner apartments charming on account of the noise of cymbals that arose in them, during the autumn on the tops of palaces, joyous with banquets under the rising moon, during the winter in chambers where comfortable couches were spread, and which were fragrant with black aloes, being ever surrounded by his wives.

Story of Malayavatí the man-hating maiden.

Now this king, being such as I have described, had a painter named Nagarasvámin, who enjoyed the revenues of a hundred villages, and surpassed Viśvakarman. That painter used every two or three days to paint a picture of a girl, and give it as a present to the king, taking care to exemplify different types of beauty.

Now, once on a time, it happened that that painter had, because a feast was going on, forgotten to paint the required girl for the king. And when the day for giving the present arrived, the painter remembered and was bewildered, saying to himself, “Alas! what can I give to the king?” And at that moment a traveller come from afar suddenly approached him and placed a book in his hand, and went off somewhere quickly. The painter out of curiosity opened the book, and saw within a picture of a girl on canvas. Inasmuch as the girl was of wonderful beauty, no sooner did he see her picture then he took it and gave it to the king, rejoicing that, so far from having no picture to present that day, he had obtained such an exceedingly beautiful one. But the king, as soon as he saw it, was astonished, and said to him, “My good fellow, this is not your painting, this is the painting of Viśvakarman: for how could a mere mortal be skilful enough to paint such beauty?” When the painter heard this, he told the king exactly what had taken place.

“When the female ascetic had said this, she immediately made me put on female attire; and I submitted to that, knowing that it was not lawful to slay those maidens. But, when the princess entered into the house with her maidens, I looked at her, and lo! she was the very lady that had been shewn me in a picture. And I said to myself, ‘Fortunate am I in that, after first seeing this lady in a picture, I now behold her again in flesh and blood, dear as my life.’

“In the meanwhile the princess, at the head of her maidens, said to that female ascetic, ‘We saw some male enter here.’ The ascetic shewed me, and answered, ‘I know of no male; here is my sister’s daughter, who is with me as a guest.’ Then the princess seeing me, although I was disguised as a woman, forgot her dislike of men, and was at once overcome by love. She remained for a moment, with every hair on her body erect, motionless as if in thought, being, so to speak, nailed to the spot at once with arrows by Love, who had spied his opportunity. And in a moment the princess said to the ascetic, ‘Then, noble lady, why should not your sister’s daughter be my guest also? Let her come to my palace; I will send her back duly honoured.’ Saying this, she took me by the hand, and led me away to her palace. And I remember, I discerned her intention, and consented, and went there, and that sly old female ascetic gave me leave to depart.

“Then I remained there with that princess, who was diverting herself with the amusement of marrying her maidens to one another, and so forth. Her eyes were fixed on me, and she would not let me out of her sight for an instant, and no occupation pleased her in which I did not take part. Then those maidens, I remember, made the princess a bride, and me her husband, and married us in sport. And when we had been married, we entered at night the bridal chamber, and the princess fearlessly threw her arms round my neck. And then I told her who I was, and embraced her, and delighted at having attained her object, she looked at me and then remained a long time with her eyes bashfully fixed on the ground. And at that moment that villain of a watchman woke me up. So, Bhadráyudha, the upshot of the whole matter is that I can no longer live without that Malayavatí, whom I have seen in a picture and in a dream.”

“Then her father and mother came to hear of it, and questioned her; and at last she was, with exceeding difficulty, persuaded to tell them what happened to her in the dream, by the mouth of a confidential female friend. Then her father comforted her, but she made a solemn vow that, if she did not obtain her beloved in six months, she would enter the fire. And already five months are past; who knows what will become of her? This is the story that I heard about her in that city.”

In course of time, as he advanced, he crossed the sea, and reached that city, and there he saw the people in front of it engaged in loud lamentation, and when he questioned them, he received this answer, “The princess Malayavatí here, as the period of six months is at an end, and she has not obtained her beloved, is preparing to enter the fire.” Then the king went to the place where the pyre had been made ready.

“When the people saw him, they made way for him, and then the princess beheld that unexpected nectar-rain to her eyes. And she said to her ladies-in-waiting, “Here is that beloved come who married me in a dream, so tell my father quickly.” They went and told this to her father, and then that king, delivered from his grief, and filled with joy, submissively approached the sovereign. At that moment the bard Śanvarasiddhi, who knew his time, lifted up his arm, and chanted aloud this strain, “Hail thou that with the flame of thy valour hast consumed the forest of the army of demons and Mlechchhas! Hail king, lord of the seven-sea-girt earth-bride! Hail thou that hast imposed thy exceedingly heavy yoke on the bowed heads of all kings, conquered by thee! Hail, Vishamaśíla, hail Vikramáditya, ocean of valour!”