Volume 2 / Book 7 — Chapter XXXIX.

When Marubhúti had told this story there, the commander-in-chief Hariśikha said in the presence of Naraváhanadatta—“It is true, good women value nothing more than their husbands, and in proof of it, listen now to this still more wonderful tale.”

Story of Śṛingabhuja and the daughter of the Rákshasa.

When this had been done, that other wife of the king’s, named Ayaśolekhá, said of her own accord to her son, who was named Nirvásabhuja,—“So, our enemy Guṇavará has been thrown into a dungeon, and it would be a good thing if her son were banished from this country. So, my boy, devise a scheme with the help of your other brothers by which Śṛingabhuja may be quickly banished from the country.” Having been addressed in this language by his mother, the jealous Nirvásabhuja told his other brothers, and continued to ponder over a scheme.

Having said this, Rúpaśikhá left Śṛingabhuja there, and immediately went into the presence of her father Agniśikha, and said—“Father, there has come here a wonderful prince named Śṛingabhuja, matchless for gifts of beauty, birth, character and age. I feel certain that he is not a man, he is some portion of a god incarnate here below, so, if he does not become my husband, I will certainly abandon my life.” When she said this to him, her father the Rákshasa said to her—“My daughter, men are our appropriate food, nevertheless, if your heart is set upon it, let it be so; bring your prince here, and shew him to me.” When Rúpaśikhá heard that, she went to Śṛingabhuja, and after telling him what she had done, she took him into the presence of her father. He prostrated himself, and Agniśikha, the father of the maiden, after saluting him courteously, said to him—“Prince, I will give you my daughter Rúpaśikhá, if you never disobey my orders.” When he said this, Śṛingabhuja, bending low, answered him—“Good! I will never disobey your orders.” When Śṛingabhuja said this to him, Agniśikha was pleased and answered—“Rise up! Go and bathe, and return here from the bath-room.” After saying this to him, he said to his daughter—“Go and bring all your sisters here quickly.” When Agniśikha had given these orders to Śṛingabhuja and Rúpaśikhá, they both of them went out, after promising to obey them.

Then Śṛingabhuja returned to Dhúmapura, free from fear, commending in his heart that display of his love’s magic power. He gave up the horse to the delighted Rúpaśikhá, and related his adventure, and then went in to the presence of Agniśikha. He said, “I went and invited your brother Dhúmaśikha.” When he said this, Agniśikha being perplexed, said to him—“If you really went there, mention some peculiarity of the place.” When the crafty Rákshasa said this to Śṛingabhuja, he answered him—“Listen, I will tell you a token: in that temple there is a figure of Párvatí on the left side of Śiva, and of Gaṇeśa on his right.” When Agniśikha heard that, he was astonished and thought for a moment—“What! did he go there, and was my brother not able to devour him? Then he cannot be a mere man, he must be a god, so let him marry my daughter, as he is a fitting match for her.” After thus reflecting, he sent Śṛingabhuja as a successful suitor to Rúpaśikhá, but he never suspected that there was a traitor in his own family. So Śṛingabhuja went, eager for his marriage, and after eating and drinking with her, managed somehow to get through the night. And the next morning Agniśikha gave to him Rúpaśikhá with all the magnificence appropriate to his magic power, according to due form, in the presence of the fire. Little in common have Rákshasas’ daughters and princes, and strange the union of such! Wonderful indeed are the results of our deeds in a previous state of existence! The prince, after he had obtained that beloved daughter of the Rákshasa, seemed like a swan who had got hold of a soft lotus, sprung from mud. And he remained there with her, who was devoted to him alone, enjoying various dainty delights provided by the magic power of the Rákshasa.

And soon the Rákshasa returned in high spirits, for he had asked his attendants, who could not help laughing in their sleeves, whether he was alive, and had learned that he was. Then Rúpaśikhá, knowing from the terrible noise that he was coming again, though as yet far off, got down from the horse and concealed her husband as before by her deluding power, and taking letters from the hand of a letter-carrier, who was coming along the road, she again assumed the form of a man.

And so the Rákshasa arrived as before, and asked his daughter, who was disguised as a man—“Did you see a man and a woman on the road?” Then she, disguised as a man, answered him with a sigh,—“I beheld no such person, for my mind was absorbed with my haste, for Agniśikha, who was to-day mortally wounded in battle, and has only a little breath left in his body, and is in his capital desiring to make over his kingdom, has despatched me as a messenger to summon to his presence his brother Dhúmaśikha, who is living an independent life.” When Agniśikha heard that, he said, “What! am I mortally wounded by my enemies?” And in his perplexity he returned again home to get information on the point. But it never occurred to him to say to himself—“Who is mortally wounded? Here I am safe and sound.” Strange are the fools that the Creator produces, and wonderfully obscured with the quality of darkness! And when he arrived at home and found that the tale was false, he would not expose himself again to the laughter of the people, tired of being imposed upon, and forgetting his daughter. And Rúpaśikhá, after deluding him, returned to her husband as before, for virtuous women know of no other good than the good of their husbands. Then Śṛingabhuja, mounted on the wonderful horse, again proceeded rapidly with his wife towards the city of Vardhamána. Then his father Vírabhuja, having heard that he was returning in company with her, went out much pleased to meet him. The king, when he saw him adorned with that wife, like Kṛishṇa with Bhámá, considered that he had gained afresh the bliss of sovereign sway. And when his son got down from his horse, and clung to his feet with his beloved, he raised him up and embraced him, and with his eye, in which stood the water of joyful tears, performed in noble wise the auspicious ceremony that put an end to his own despondency, and then conducted him into his palace, making high festival. And when he asked his son where he had been, Śṛingabhuja told him his whole history from the beginning. And after summoning his brothers, Nirvásabhuja and all, into his father’s presence, he gave them the golden arrow. Then the king Vírabhuja, after what he had heard and seen, was displeased with those other sons, and considered Śṛingabhuja his only true son.

Then the next day, his father, king Vírabhuja, anointed as crown-prince Śṛingabhuja, who was the oldest in virtue of them all, though he had elder brothers. And then Śṛingabhuja, having been anointed and having obtained the leave of his father, went with all his forces to conquer the world. And having brought back the wealth of numerous kings, whom he overcame by the might of his arm, he returned, having diffused the splendour of his glory through all the earth. Then bearing the weight of the realm with his submissive brothers, the successful prince Śṛingabhuja, giving pleasure to his parents, who remained in the enjoyment of comfort free from anxiety, and bestowing gifts on Bráhmans, dwelt at ease with Rúpaśikhá as if with incarnate success.

“Thus virtuous women serve their husbands in every way, devoted to them alone, like Guṇavará, and Rúpaśikhá, the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.”

When Naraváhanadatta, in the society of Ratnaprabhá, heard this story from the lips of Hariśikha, he was much delighted and exclaimed, “Bravo!” Then he rose up, and quickly performed the religious ceremony for the day, and went with his wife into the presence of his father, the king of Vatsa, and after eating, and whiling away the afternoon with singing and playing, he spent the night with his beloved in his own private apartments.