V. SUDHANA AVADĀNA.1

The king of South Panchāla, who paid no respect to the law, was haughty, choleric, passionate, and ill-natured. He did not rule in accordance with the law, and he kept the inhabitants of his realm constantly in fear by penalties, blows, wounds, executions, arrests, and bonds, and by intolerance, inaccessibility, and malice of every kind. As he was overweening and did not rule according to law, the deity did not let rain fall from time to time, on which account men, full of fear and despair, deserted the country in troops, and betook themselves to the realm of the king of North Panchāla.

Some time after this, when the king of South Panchāla had gone to the chase and had set forth to inspect his domains, he remarked that all the towns and villages were deserted, and the parks and the temples of the gods had fallen into decay and ruin. Having observed this, he said to his ministers, “Honoured sirs, what is the reason of these towns and villages being deserted, and of the parks and the temples of the gods having fallen into decay and ruin? and whither have the people gone?” The ministers replied, “They have gone into the realm of Dhana, the king of North Panchāla.”

“On what account?”

“Will your majesty accord impunity of speech?”

“Speak, for I accord you impunity.”

Thereupon they said, “Your majesty, as the king of North Panchāla rules in accordance with the law, his land is great, rich, healthy, fruitful, densely peopled, free from disquiet, discord, disorder, uproar, and robbery; diseases have quite disappeared there, it overflows with rice, sugar-cane, oxen, and buffaloes; and its people, intent upon bestowing gifts, sacrifices, and reverence, offer sustenance to the Śramaṇas and Brahmans, and the poor and needy. But as you, your majesty, are choleric, passionate, and ill-natured, and have kept the inhabitants of the realm constantly in fear by means of penalties, blows, wounds, executions, arrests, and bonds, and by intolerance, inaccessibility, and malice of every kind, therefore have the people, full of fear and despair, gone into the land of the king of North Panchāla.” The king of South Panchāla said, “O sirs, what would be a good way of making those people return and inhabit these towns and villages?” The ministers replied, “If your majesty, ruling after the fashion of the king of North Panchāla, will protect the land with gentle, benignant, and merciful mind, the people will soon return and inhabit these towns and villages.” The king of South Panchāla said, “Sirs, since this is so, I will protect the land with gentle, benignant, and merciful mind, ruling after the fashion of the king of North Panchāla; but do ye take such measures that the people may come back again and inhabit these towns and villages.”

“Your majesty, there is yet another cause for the state of things in Hastināpura. In that city there is a Nāga named Janmachitra, who dwells in a great lake filled with blue, red, and white lotuses of all kinds, and adorned with ducks and geese of divers species. As he sends down a torrent of rain from time to time, the harvest is always abundant and the soil is extremely fertile, and the land abounds in meat and drink.” The king said, “Is there no means of summoning that Nāga hither?”

“Your majesty, as he can be conjured hither by men who are versed in charms and spells, let them perform the deed.”

Thereupon the king fastened a golden basket to the end of a standard, and ordered proclamation to be made throughout the whole kingdom that he would give that golden basket to any one who could conjure the Nāga Janmachitra out of North Panchāla into South Panchāla, and would also heap upon him a profusion of great honours. After a time a serpent-charmer appeared before the ministers, and said that if the golden basket was given to him he would capture and bring in the Nāga Janmachitra. The ministers ordered the basket to be brought, and the serpent-charmer said, “I will leave this basket in the hands of a trustworthy man. Let him give it to me when I bring the Nāga Janmachitra.” When this had been promised him, the serpent-charmer placed the golden basket in the hands of a trustworthy man and betook himself to the city of Hastināpura. Being well versed in signs, he perceived, after carefully observing the lake all round, that the Nāga Janmachitra must have his dwelling-place in a certain spot. So he went to fetch offerings and utensils, and said to the ministers, “Give me offerings and utensils, and within seven days I will capture and bring in the Nāga.”

Now the Nāga had seen the serpent-charmer, and had said to himself, “This man has come to carry me off, and if at the end of seven days I am carried off, I shall suffer great distress on account of being severed from my parents. What shall I do? To whom shall I pray for protection?”

Now there lived in the neighbourhood of the lake two hunters, Masūraka and Phalaka. Living near the lake, they supported themselves by killing not only land animals, such as the hares, stags, boars, and so forth which came to that lake to drink, but also the fish, tortoises, and so forth which lived in the water. Of these two hunters Masūraka died, but Phalaka remained alive. As the Nāga Janmachitra came to the conclusion that there was no one except the hunter Phalaka to whom he could fly for refuge, he went, after assuming the form of a man, to the hunter Phalaka, and said to him, “O friend, if King Dhana’s realm is vast, rich, healthy, fruitful, and populous, and overflows with rice, sugar-cane, oxen, and buffaloes (as was said above), do you know through whose power this has come to pass?” The hunter answered, “Well do I know that this takes place because that king rules in accordance with the law, and protects his land with gentle, benignant, and merciful mind.” The Nāga said, “Does all this arise from that cause only, or from some other cause as well?” The hunter said, “There is another cause as well. In this lake lives the Nāga Janmachitra, who from time to time sends down a torrent of rain, in consequence of which the soil becomes extremely fertile, and is replete with food and drink.” Janmachitra said, “If this Nāga were to be taken away from this land by any one, he would no longer be able to be of service, and he would be very wretched on account of being separated from his parents. What would the king and the inhabitants of the land do if he were to be carried off? what would you do?”

“We should perish.”

“Do you know who this Nāga is?”

“No!”

The Nāga then took up his abode in a lonely spot. When seven days had passed, the hunter hid himself near that place. The serpent-charmer came and began to prepare the offerings and utensils, driving in the pegs of Khadira-wood at the four corners, attaching various threads of divers colours, and reciting spells. When the water began to seethe, the hunter sped an arrow from his bow, and then drew his sword from its sheath and cried, “Will you carry off the Nāga who dwells in our land by means of spells? Reverse your spell. If you do not, I will sever your head from your body and send it to the bottom of the lake.” The serpent-charmer, experiencing pain and grief induced by anguish and fear of death, reversed the spell, whereupon the hunter instantly killed him. When the Nāga was thus freed from the power of the spell, he came forth from the lake, embraced the hunter, and thus addressed him, “You are my mother, you are my father. In this wise am I, in that I trusted in you, spared the pain of being separated from my parents. Come, let us go to them.” He led him to their abode, regaled him with meats and drinks of divers kinds, presented him with jewels, and then said to his parents, “This man has become my refuge, my friend, and my kinsman. Through his means I have been saved from separation from you.” The parents also let him have all he wished for, and presented him with precious things of all kinds. These he took away with him, and then came forth from the lake.

King Dhana and his wife had neither son nor daughter. It happened once that he sat, resting his cheek upon his hand, absorbed by the thought that, since he had neither son nor daughter, his family would be extinct after his death, the treasures heaped up within his house would pass into other hands, and another king would rule over all that had been his. As he sat there thus absorbed in meditation, the Śramaṇas and Brahmans, his friends, companions, and kinsmen, asked him why he was so downcast. When he had fully explained the whole matter to them, they said, “Be pleased to pray to the gods. Then will a son be born unto you.” As he had no son, but desired to have one, he prayed to Śiva and Varuṇa, to Kuvera and Vasudeva, and so forth, also to various other gods, to the gods of the parks, the gods of the forest, the gods of the crossways, the gods of the three ways, the gods who accept oblations, the ever-accompanying gods, and the gods like-minded and identical in date of birth. It is generally said that sons and daughters are born in consequence of such prayers, not otherwise; a thousand sons, for instance, may be born to a world-ruling prince when such prayers have been offered.

Praying in such a manner, Dhana obtained a hearing, and a Bodisat of the Bhadrakalpa entered into the womb of his good spouse. Some women who are endowed with insight possess five peculiar characteristics, one of which is that they know whether their child will be a boy or a girl. If it is a boy, it clings to the right side, and if a girl, to the left. Full of joy, spake the queen to her husband, “O lord, as the living being which has entered within me clings to the right side, and will certainly be a boy, therefore rejoice.”

The king joyfully drew himself up, and stretched out his right arm, and said, “I shall behold the son whom I have long been desiring. As he will soon be born unto me, he will carry on my work, extend still more widely what has been acquired, and as my heir more widely propagate my race. And when we shall have died, whether we have presented many or few gifts and acquired much or little merit, it will follow after us in that place in which we shall both be born again, and our recompense will ripen through union.”

Thus did he joyfully exclaim. As he knew that conception had taken place, he took care, in order that the existence in the mother’s womb might be allowed to develop thoroughly, that there should be in his palace during the cold weather preservatives against cold, during the hot weather preservatives against heat. According to the directions of the physician, he provided food which was not too bitter, too sour, too salt, too sweet, too hot, or too acid—food which was without bitterness, sourness, saltness, sweetness, heat, or acidity. With strings of pearls of various kinds and with other ornaments he adorned the body of his wife, like unto an Apsaras wandering in the Nandana grove; and he made seats and seats, stools and stools, to prevent her from falling on the ground, and he ordered care to be taken that she should not hear the slightest unpleasant noise.

His father bestowed upon him three wives—a first wife, a middle wife, and a last wife—and built for his use three separate palaces, for winter, spring, and summer; and in like manner he provided him with parks of three kinds, for winter, spring, and summer. There the young Sudhana, when he went alone, without any retinue, into the upper storey of the palace, diverted and enjoyed himself to the sound of musical instruments.

It happened once that the hunter Phalaka, as he roamed to and fro in search after game, arrived at a certain mountain, and at the foot of this mountain he perceived a Rishi’s hermitage, rich in flowers and fruit. Around it fluttered birds of divers kinds, and there was near it a lake provided with red and white lotuses, and with geese and various kinds of ducks. As he was about to roam over this place of seclusion, he saw a Rishi with long hair on his head and body, and with long nails and a long beard, sitting in a grass hut under a tree. On seeing him he touched the Rishi’s feet with his head, joined the palms of his hands, and said, “Venerable one, how long have you been in this place?”

“Forty years.”

“While you have remained here, have you seen or heard anything strange or wonderful?”

The Rishi, calm of mood, deliberately replied, “Friend, do you see that lake?”

“Venerable one, I see it.”

“That is the Brahmasabhā pool, filled with blue, red, and white lotuses, haunted by swarms of different kinds of birds, extremely rich in waters resembling silver, snow, and hoarfrost in colour. To this pool in the midst of the most fragrant flowers, there comes on the fifteenth day of the month Manoharā the daughter of Druma, the king of the Kinnarīs. Surrounded by five hundred Kinnarīs, she comes in order to bathe, after having washed and anointed her head. During the time of the bath they dance, sing, and make sweet music resound, such as enchants even the beasts of the forest. Even I myself, when I have heard these sounds, experience pleasure and delight for seven whole days. This maiden, O friend, I have seen.”

The hunter Phalaka said to himself, “As I have obtained the Amogha-chain from the Nāga, I will cast it around the Kinnarī Manoharā.” He came, accordingly, after a time, on the fifteenth of the month, bringing the Amogha-chain with him, concealed himself in a thicket not far from the lake, among fruits, flowers, and foliage, and kept watch. When Manoharā, surrounded by five hundred Kinnarīs, with befitting equipments, went into the Brahmasabhā lake to bathe, the hunter Phalaka straightway cast the Amogha-chain, and caught the Kinnarī Manoharā. Held by the chain, she began to bound and to run in the water and to utter shrieks of terror. Hearing these, the Kinnarī band broke up. Looking upon Manoharā, the Kinnarīs saw that she was taken prisoner, and they fled away terrified.

The hunter gazed at Manoharā, who was of an exquisitely proportioned figure and of a lovely countenance, and having gazed at her, he was about to draw near and lay hands upon her; but she said, “Man of low station, touch me not. I am not destined to marry you. As I am worthy of a king of goodly form, you must not lay hands upon me.” The hunter said, “If I do not lay hands upon you you will flee away.” She replied, “I will not flee away. If you will not trust me, take this head-jewel, by means of which I fly heavenwards.” The hunter said, “Who can tell that?” She gave him the head-jewel and said, “I shall always be in the power of him whose hand holds this jewel.” The hunter took the jewel, and led her away with him, just as if she had been secured by bonds.

About this time the youth Sudhana went forth to the chase one day. The hunter saw the youth Sudhana, who was handsome in form and of pleasant aspect; and having seen him he said to himself, “As this is Prince Sudhana, and as he is of goodly form and pleasant aspect, and as he, when he has looked upon this maiden, will take her to wife, I will of my own accord offer her to him as a present.” So he led her, just as if she had been secured by bonds, to Prince Sudhana, and said, after touching his feet, “I offer unto you as a present this gem of a wife; be pleased to accept the gift.” Prince Sudhana looked upon the Kinnarī Manoharā. She was of goodly form and pleasing countenance, with a complexion of remarkable brilliance and with all good properties, adorned with the eighteen signs of the woman, more beautiful than the children of men; the breasts wide apart, and arched like the tortoise Hiraṇyakumbha, firm, plump, extremely round and elastic; the eyes light blue, with small red veins and of elongated form, like young lotuses; the arch of the nose long and high; the lips like coral, gems, pearls, in form like the Bimba fruit; the chin ample and firm; the cheeks marked by very attractive moles; the eyebrows beautifully interlacing, black as a swarm of bees; the arms long and rounded like the spotless full moon; the belly a little overhanging with three deep folds; the upper part of the body a little bent from the down-hanging of the breasts, the under part beautifully formed like a disk; the hands like unto the pith of the banana tree; the legs beautiful from their delicacy and the rounding off of the calves; the veins scarcely visible and free from all crookedness, so that all the limbs were fair to see, proudly moving to the sound of the richly jewel-studded ornaments of the head, neck, and feet, and the many strings of pearls; the hair black and smooth, like unto Sachī, the feet adorned with ornaments; wearing a golden girdle, many strings of pearls hanging down at the belly, the complexion gleaming fair as gold.

No sooner had the youth set eyes on her than he was suddenly enchained by the bonds of passion—passion which, like the pure and spotless moon reflected in water, is, on account of its unstable nature, not easily to be grasped, and like a sea-monster in a billowy torrent, is not easily to be distinguished, which steps along like the Garuḍa or the flow of the wind, which flies about swiftly with a lightness resembling that of cotton, which, like a monkey, is always in motion, never resting in any place. When the arrow of passion, which is ever connected with woes and with longing to enjoy the bliss of love, without letting itself be warned off from the abyss of misfortune due to all those woes—when this arrow strikes the heart, shot from the careless bow with a scarcely audible sound arising from the longing after a meeting, then, completely befooled by senses which hang upon the fair one, a man falls, like a moth, into the flame. As in summer the lightning flashes from out of the rain-cloud, so did the dart of love strike Sudhana when he looked upon her whose countenance was like unto the moon. Then Prince Sudhana took Manoharā and brought her to the city of Hastināpura, and to the hunter he gave a splendid city. Ascending with Manoharā to the upper storey of the palace, the youth Sudhana spent his time with her in pleasure and sport; and by the hundredfold force of Manoharā’s youth, beauty, and respect for him, the youth Sudhana was immediately and irresistibly captivated.

It came to pass afterwards that the mountaineers of the king’s realm rebelled. The king sent a general to subdue them, but he returned completely overcome and vanquished. Just the same happened to seven other generals whom the king sent out. The ministers said to the king, “Wherefore, your majesty, do you allow your forces to dwindle away and the power of the foe to increase? Be pleased to order out all who are capable of bearing arms within your realm.” The Brahman who was the Purohita thought that this was the time for bringing about Sudhana’s death, so he said to the king, “There can be no doubt that in that wise defeat will take place.” The king said, “What am I to do then? Ought I to march out myself?” The Purohita said, “Your majesty, why should you go yourself? As the youth Sudhana has come to man’s estate, and is proud of his strength and courage, you can send him out with the troops.” The king said, “I will do so.” Thereupon the king summoned the youth, and said to him, “O youth, march forth with the troops and subdue the mountaineers.” “Your majesty, I will act in accordance with your commands.”

Having thus spoken, Sudhana prepared to obey his father. On betaking himself to the zenana, he saw Manoharā there, and not only forgot all his other wives, but also, as soon as he saw her, forgot the commands laid upon him by the king. Thereupon the Purohita said to the king, “Your majesty, as there can be no doubt that the youth Sudhana is deeply in love with Manoharā, let the troops be drawn up, and order the youth, when he comes forth from the zenana, to set out on the march without going to see Manoharā again.” The king said to the ministers, “Honoured sirs, equip the host.” The ministers obeyed the orders of the king, and equipped the hosts, elephants, horses, chariots, and infantry, well provided with many kinds of weapons and appurtenances. Then they summoned the youth, saying to him, “O youth, as the troops are ready, come forth from thence.” He said, “Your majesty, I will go forth when I have seen Manoharā.”

The king said, “O youth, do not go to see her, for that would give rise to delay.”

“If that be so, I will set out when I have seen my mother.”

“O youth, your mother you may see.”

Sudhana took Manoharā’s head-jewel, went to his mother, touched her feet, and said, “O mother, as I am setting out to subdue the mountaineers, do you keep this jewel with the utmost secrecy, and do not give it to Manoharā except in a case of life and death.” After saying these words to his mother, and taking leave of her, he set forth with the army to the sound of music. After gradually advancing for some time, he halted under a tree at no great distance from the mountaineers. Just at that time the Mahārāja Vaiśravaṇa was going to a Yaksha meeting, together with many Yakshas, many hundreds, many thousands, many hundreds of thousands of Yakshas. As he drove along, and was delayed upon the celestial road, he said to himself, “Often as I have driven along this road, yet has my chariot never once been delayed. What can be the cause of its being delayed now?”

Perceiving the youth Sudhana, he thought, “This is a Bodisat of the Bhadrakalpa, who has gone forth to war and will be in difficulty. I will assist him, and subdue the mountaineers without living creatures being exposed to danger.” So he summoned Pānchika, the commander-in-chief of the Yakshas, and said to him, “Pānchika, come here. Contrive so that the youth Sudhana may subdue the mountaineers without a battle being fought or injury being inflicted upon living creatures.” The Yaksha commander-in-chief Pānchika listened to the orders of Vaiśravaṇa, and said, “I will act in accordance with your commands.” Then he conjured up the four contingents of the divine host, men of the stature of palm trees, elephants of the size of mountains, horses as large as elephants, and chariots as bulky as the palace of the gods Vimāna. Together with his mighty host, spreading great alarm by means of all kinds of weapons, such as swords, mallets, javelins, lances, disks, maces, arrows, battle-axes, and so forth, and through the clang of all sorts of musical instruments, Pānchika moved onwards towards the mountaineers, whose walls gave way in consequence of the uproar made by the elephants, the horses, and the chariots, and of the clangings of all kinds, and of the power of the Yakshas. Seeing these hosts, and perceiving that their walls had given way, the mountaineers were greatly astonished, and asked the hosts whence they came. They replied, “Open the gates with all speed. The youth Sudhana is on the march behind us, and we are his army. If you do not open your gates with all speed, everything will be overthrown.” The mountaineers said, “We did not rebel against the king. Moreover, the youth is judicious; but we have been reduced to fear and anxiety by the king’s officials.” Then they opened the gates, and went forth to meet the youth Sudhana, with banners and standards displayed, with full urns, and to the sound of all manner of instruments. After he had taken rest, he called them to him, nominated chiefs, fixed taxes, and took hostages. Then, having subdued the mountaineers, the youth Sudhana returned home.

As the king, out of self-love, did not wish any means to be neglected, he acquiesced and ordered the preparations to be made according to the Purohita’s directions, the tank to be dug, lined with mortar and glazed, and filled with the blood of roes and so forth. When Sudhana’s wives saw these preparations, cheerfulness and joy sprang up within them. “As we also,” they said, “shall acquire exquisite beauty if we avail ourselves of this, we shall be able to partake of great enjoyment with the youth Sudhana.” As they spoke joyfully to this effect, Manoharā saw them, and asked wherefore they were so delighted. One of them explained the whole matter to Manoharā. Thereupon pain and displeasure sprang up within her, and she betook herself to Sudhana’s mother, and touched her feet, and told her the whole story in words provocative of sympathy. The queen said, “As these things are so, ponder over them well, and I will ponder over them also.”

When Manoharā had reflected and spoken, and the queen also had considered the matter, and had decided that it was right so to do, she gave Manoharā the head-jewel and a garment, and said, “Child, I was to give you this jewel only if your life was in danger. In the present circumstances I shall be beyond reproach.”

After a time, all things having been prepared for the bath according to the command of the king, he entered the blood-filled tank and came forth from it again, and then the Brahmans licked his feet with their tongues. When, subsequently to this, all things had been set in order for the bath according to the commands of the king, and he had entered the blood-filled tank and emerged from it again, then the tongues of the Brahmans licked his feet. After that the supernatural being was brought forward. When Manoharā was ordered to draw nearer, she immediately rose heavenwards, saying, “After being seized and bound, after having laughed and played, like a cow freed from its bonds, will I flee away.” When the king saw her sweeping through the air, fear came upon him, and he said to the Purohita, “How comes it that the Kinnarī Manoharā has flown away before our preparations were carried into effect?” The Purohita said, “Your majesty, the end is now attained, and your nature is made free from sin.”

Great was the joy when the king heard that the youth Sudhana had returned to Hastināpura with the army after subduing the mountaineers. As soon as the youth had rested, he went to his father, made obeisance, and took his place before him. The king began to speak with great joy, and said, “O youth, have you been successful?”

“Your majesty, through your grace have the mountaineers been overcome, hostages have been taken, and chiefs appointed. Tribute and taxes have also been levied. Be pleased to have all this taken into the treasury.”

The king said, “O son, as you have done well, I will receive these things.” Then the son made obeisance to his father, and was about to depart when the king said, “Stay, O youth, in order to take food with your father.”

“Your majesty, as it is a long time since I saw Manoharā, I wish to go to her.”

“O youth, put off going to her for to-day and go to-morrow.”

“Father, I will certainly go to-day,” said the youth, moving restlessly this way and that. Whereupon the king made no reply.

When the youth entered his house, and did not see the fair one at the door of the women’s chamber, he was utterly cast down. As he did not see Manoharā, his mind became disordered, and he ran hither and thither, calling out, “Manoharā! Manoharā!” When the women had repeated these words to the winds, and he in his grief of heart had many times questioned them, they told him the whole story. Clouded over was his mind with grief. The women said, “Why should you be so cast down? In the band of women are those who are much more beautiful than she was.”

Thereupon the youth Sudhana touched the Rishi’s feet with his head, and went away in order to seek the remedies, spells, and antidotes indicated to him. When he had obtained all but the monkey, he came back with them to the Rishi. The Rishi gave him a monkey and said, “O youth, why do you trouble yourself so much? Wherefore is Manoharā so necessary to you. Alone, without companions, you will surely lose your life.” The youth replied, “Great Rishi, I shall surely go, and why? Where has the heaven-traversing moon a companion? The king of the beasts, endowed with strength of tusks, and the fire which burns the forest—where are their companions? Wherefore should a strength like mine require a companion? What! shall not men trust themselves to the great ocean wave? Shall not one heal the hand which a snake has bitten? If a vigorous being struggles to the utmost, no blame can be found with the pains taken, even though they may not be successful.”

Thereupon the youth Sudhana, provided with the various objects indicated by Manoharā, set forth. He passed in their turn the rivers, the caverns, and the abysses, assisted by the remedies, the spells, and the antidotes, and he came into the neighbourhood of the Kinnarī king, Druma. The youth gazed at the city, which was adorned by a park rich in flowers and fruits of various kinds, the haunt of all sorts of birds, provided with tanks, oblong and square lakes, and surrounded by Kinnarīs. He saw some Kinnarīs coming to draw water, and he said to them, “What are you going to do with all that water?” They replied, “The Kinnarī king has a daughter, Manoharā. As she has fallen into the hands of human beings, the smell of humanity has to be washed off her.” The youth Sudhana said, “Are all these jugs to be emptied over her at once, or one after another?” They replied, “One after another.” He thought, “Here is a good opportunity. I will drop this ring into one of the jugs.” He chose the jug of one of the Kinnarīs, dropped the ring into it, and said to her, “Let your jug be the first to begin Manoharā’s ablutions.” Whereupon she thought, “No doubt he will be wanting something or other.”

When this Kinnarī had been the first to empty her jug over Manoharā’s head, the ring fell into Manoharā’s lap, who said to her, “Has not a man come hither?” She replied, “Yes.” “Go to him, and bring him to some retired spot.” Accordingly the Kinnarī brought him in and took him to a retired spot. Then Manoharā touched her father’s feet and said, “Father, if the youth Sudhana, who was my husband, were to come here, what would you do with him?” He replied, “As he is a man, and I have no need of him, I would cut him into a hundred pieces and scatter him on all four sides.” Manoharā said, “Father, as he is a man, how could he be here? It was only my talk.”

Afterwards, when the wrath of the Kinnarī king, Druma, was assuaged, he said, “If the youth comes, I will have you provided with all kinds of ornaments, and with many goods and treasures, and surrounded by Kinnarīs, and will give you to him as his wife.” Thereupon Manoharā, full of great delight, clothed the youth Sudhana in divine array, and showed him to the Kinnarī king, Druma. When the Kinnarī king, Druma, saw the young Sudhana’s stately form and pleasing aspect, his handsome face and brilliant complexion, he was greatly astonished. As he was desirous of having him as his son-in-law, he set in order seven golden stems, seven palms, seven kettledrums, and seven wild boars. Now the youth Sudhana was a Bodisat, and Bodisats are versed in all arts and in every kind of skill. Moreover, the gods take pains to remove all hindrances out of their way. The Bodisat stepped forth, surrounded by many thousands of Kinnarīs, amid dance and song, and to the sound of the harps, kettledrums, cymbals, lutes, drums, and the rest of the instruments of various kinds made by the gods. Before the eyes of the Kinnarī king, Druma, he drew nigh to the golden stems, wielding a sword which looked like the leaf of a blue lotus, and began to cut the stems in pieces as though he were slicing a plantain. Whereupon he broke them into fragments like grains of sesame. Moreover he shot an arrow uninjured through the seven palm-trees, the seven kettledrums, and the seven boars, and remained standing like Sumeru unremoved. Thereupon the heaven-inhabiting gods and many hundreds of thousands of Kinnarīs set up a cry of triumph with noise and shouting. When the Kinnarī king, Druma, saw and heard all this, he marvelled greatly.

After that the king placed Manoharā in the middle of a thousand Kinnarīs exactly like her, and said to the youth Sudhana, “Come hither, O youth, and recognise Manoharā.” Then the youth Sudhana, in order that he might recognise her, uttered these verses, “Thou who art Drama’s daughter, thou art also my beloved Manoharā; let it come to pass, in consequence of this truth, that thou, O Manoharā, swiftly steppest to the front.” Thereupon she immediately stepped forward, and the Kinnarīs said, “Your majesty, as this youth Sudhana is of excellent strength, manliness, and courage, and deserves to be Manoharā’s husband, therefore please to be angry no longer, and to give Manoharā to him.”

Then the Kinnarī king summoned the Kinnarī host, and the Kinnarī assembly paid great honour to the youth Sudhana. Holding Manoharā adorned with divine array with his left hand, and a jar full of gold-dust with his right hand, the king went up to the youth Sudhana and said, “O youth, I give you Manoharā as your wife, surrounded by a thousand Kinnarīs. But men are of a fickle nature. Do not on any account desert her.” “I will act, O father, in accordance with your words,” said the youth Sudhana, and proffered obedience to the Kinnarī king, Druma. Then in a palace of the Kinnarī domain he and Manoharā, apart from men, revelled and enjoyed themselves to the sound of the musical instruments.

After a time, remembering his home, and being depressed by the pain arising from his separation from his parents, he informed Manoharā that he was overcome by the anguish caused by his separation from his parents. Thereupon Manoharā gave her father a full account of what had taken place. The king said, “Go with the youth, but act cautiously, seeing that men are deceitful.” Then the Kinnarī king, Druma, let her go, after bestowing upon her jewels, pearls, gold and so forth in profusion.

Sudhana went his way with Manoharā, speeding onwards through the air by Kinnarī power, and at length arrived at the city of Hastināpura. In the city of Hastināpura, after all stones, gravel, and rubble had been swept away, and sandal-wood water had been sprinkled, and floral hangings, standards, and flags had been set up, and exceedingly fragrant incense had been provided, and flowers of all sorts had been strewn about, men gave themselves up to rejoicing. Then the youth, accompanied by Manoharā, surrounded by many thousands of leaders of men, made his entry into the city of Hastināpura.

When he had recovered from the fatigue caused by the journey, he took jewels of different kinds and went to his father, and remained standing beside the king, and gave him a full account of his journey to and from the Kinnarī city. As King Dhana had become aware that the prince possessed remarkable strength, manliness, and courage, he invested him with regal power. The youth Sudhana said to himself, “That I have met with Manoharā and obtained the might of kingly power is the special result of earlier deeds. Therefore will I now also bestow gifts and practise virtuous works.”

And during the space of twelve years he without let or hindrance offered sacrifice in the city of Hastināpura.