222. Katha Sarit Sagara : Chapter 12
Part I: The Peacock and the Cage
1. Vatsa's King Refuses Vatsa's Offer: The Clash of Crowns
The massive stone halls of Ujjayini, capital of Avanti, felt the heavy silence of the royal court. King Chandamahasena, ruler of Avanti and known for his fierce temper and powerful armies, sat like a stone idol. Before him stood the returning ambassador from the rival kingdom of Vatsa, his face etched with weary defeat.
"Speak plainly, messenger," the King of Ujjayini commanded, his voice a gravelly rumble. "What message does that proud King Udayana of Vatsa send to my earnest proposal of alliance through matrimony?"
The ambassador bowed low. "Great King, the monarch of Vatsa, Udayana, offers his deepest respects but... he states with grave regret that a king of his lineage cannot accept a proposal that feels less like an alliance and more like a surrender to your might. He refuses to come to Ujjayini."
A collective gasp went through the court. Chandamahasena's hand slammed down on the marble arm of his throne. "Refuses? That peacock of a king, who spends his days charming elephants with his lute and his nights chasing pleasure, refuses the hand of my daughter, Vasavadatta?" His eyes, the color of aged mahogany, narrowed to slits. "Go, tell your master that the sun of Avanti does not take rejection lightly."
2. Chandamahasena's Deceptive Plot: The Serpent's Decision
Once the messenger was dismissed, King Chandamahasena summoned his inner counsel. He paced the length of the chamber, his heavy robes rustling like dry leaves.
"It is settled then," he declared, his voice hard as iron. "That proud king will not come as a guest. I cannot, by the laws of custom and dignity, send my daughter, a jewel of Avanti, to his court. The humiliation would be too great for our lineage. Therefore, I must capture him. He shall be brought here as a prisoner, and only then will he learn the true meaning of a royal alliance!"
His ministers, men of great experience and cunning, nodded. They knew their king's will was final. The stratagem must be as clever as it was audacious.
"The king of Vatsa," one minister, Bharatarohaka, pointed out, "is known for two obsessions: his Veena—his lute—and the hunting of magnificent elephants. A trap that targets this weakness is the only path to success."
3. The Artificial Elephant Trap: The Wooden Monster
The plan was set in motion. Under the deepest secrecy, Chandamahasena had artisans craft a monstrous, lifelike artificial elephant. It was vast, carved from ancient, heavy woods, painted with such skill it seemed to breathe.
But this colossus was hollow. Inside, a space was created large enough to conceal a small battalion of the kingdom's fiercest warriors, their armor blackened to absorb the forest shadows. Bharatarohaka, a master tactician, personally oversaw the final preparations.
The King’s masterpiece of deceit was then moved and carefully positioned deep within a desolate, mist-shrouded corner of the Vindhya forest, a territory known to Udayana's hunting scouts.
4. Scouts Discover the 'Mighty' Elephant: The Whisper of Legend
Meanwhile, the King of Vatsa, Udayana, was in his court at Kauśambi, immersed in the affairs of state, though his true passion lay in the thrilling chase of a mighty elephant.
Suddenly, a group of his hired scouts burst in, dust-caked and breathless from a forced ride. They were known to be men whose lives were devoted to finding the rarest game.
"My King! O, glory to Vatsa!" the chief scout gasped, falling to his knees. "We have seen a beast, a single elephant roaming in the Vindhya forest! In this wide, wide world, his equal is nowhere to be found! He fills the sky with his stature, a moving peak of the Vindhya range itself!"
Udayana, whose face had been impassive during the report, felt a tremor of excitement race through his veins. An animal of such description was a myth made real. His eyes, usually softened by poetry and music, now shone with the ruthless light of a hunter.
5. King of Vatsa's Excitement and Motivation: A King’s Obsession
"A hundred thousand gold pieces!" Udayana roared, leaping from his throne and embracing the breathless scouts. "Take it! Take it all! For the mere sight of such a creature is treasure enough!"
That night, Udayana could not sleep. He walked the moonlit battlements, the cool night air unable to calm the fire in his mind.
"If I obtain that mighty elephant," he mused, clutching his famous lute, Ghoshavati, "a beast worthy of standing beside my legendary Nalagiri, then that hot-tempered Chandamahasena will certainly know my power. He will realize that the man who can subdue such a behemoth is worthy of his daughter. Then, he will of his own accord offer me his daughter, the legendary beauty Vasavadatta."
His desire for the elephant had become inextricably linked with his desire for the princess, a beautiful obsession clouding his famed judgment.
6. Disregard for Warnings and Departure: Fate’s Prophecy
At the break of day, Udayana gave the order to prepare for the hunt. His ministers, foremost among them the wise and unflappable Yaugandharayana and the steadfast general Rumanvat, rushed to his side.
"My King, please reconsider," Yaugandharayana pleaded, his voice heavy with foreboding. "This report is too sudden, too perfect. It smells of Avanti's cunning. The Vindhyas are too deep, the beast too singular. Let us first send a company of warriors."
Udayana turned, a fever in his eyes. "Nonsense, Yaugandharayana! You worry over shadows! I have an elephant to claim! Besides," he added, lifting Ghoshavati, "I do not hunt with spears, but with music. An army would only frighten my prey."
He even dismissed the court astrologers, who came to him with trembling hands. "O King," the chief astrologer whispered, "the confluence of the heavenly bodies at this very moment of departure portends a strange dual outcome: the acquisition of a maiden together with imprisonment!"
Udayana merely laughed, a sound bright and reckless. "A woman and a cage, you say? Well, a beautiful woman is often a prison, old man. I shall accept the risk! Now stand aside! A king's sport waits!"
7. Entry into the Vindhya Forest: The Lute in the Wilderness
Udayana led his forces towards the Vindhyas, but as they reached the forest's edge, he ordered them to halt. "Too much noise will alarm the beast! I will approach him alone, as a friend, with only the scouts to guide me."
Ignoring the last, desperate cries of his loyal army, Udayana, with the scouts ahead of him, entered the deep forest. It was vast, tangled, and boundless, a silent green maw that swallowed the sunlight. It was, perhaps, as boundless and intricate as his own kingly vice—his overweening passion. In his hand, he clutched his beloved lute, the only companion he felt he needed.
8. The Lute Player and the Deception: Approaching the Silent Giant
The scouts led the King of Vatsa to the southern slope of the Vindhya range. Through the thickets, Udayana finally saw it: the elephant. It was immense, a dark shape against the growing dusk, exactly as described. It looked like a real, slumbering giant.
Udayana dismissed the scouts with a wave of his hand and slowly, deliberately, began to approach the figure. He raised his lute and began to play, letting the melodious tones of Ghoshavati fill the silent air. His mind was fully occupied, not with suspicion, but with the complex thoughts of a master hunter: how to bind this magnificent creature, how to subdue it through music alone. He sang in a sweet, persuasive tenor, his every fiber focused on the beautiful, musical spell.
9. Capture of the King of Vatsa: The Trap Springs
As his mind was wholly fixed on his captivating music, and with the swift shades of evening beginning to descend, the King of Vatsa did not notice the stiff, non-breathing stillness of the creature. He did not perceive that the supposed wild elephant was nothing but an artificial shell.
The trap then performed its horrifying play. The wooden elephant, its internal mechanisms operated by the soldiers within, lifted its enormous ears and flapped them, as if in sheer delight at the music. It then advanced a few steps, retired a few, and repeated the motion, subtly luring Udayana deeper and deeper into the wilderness, far from any possibility of aid.
Then, with a terrifying suddenness, a dark, hidden door in the elephant's side burst open. A score of soldiers in full, black armor poured out, surrounding the King of Vatsa in a suffocating ring.
Udayana, his face contorted with shock and fury, realized the deception instantly. He drew the only weapon he carried—his hunting knife—and fought with the desperate, ferocious rage of a cornered lion. He cut down two men in front of him, but before he could turn, more warriors, appearing from the surrounding thickets at a pre-arranged signal, seized him from behind. They shackled his hands and feet, dragging the King of Vatsa down into the dirt. The glorious hunt had ended in brutal, bitter defeat.
10. Presentation to Chandamahasena: Humiliation in Ujjayini
The warriors, under the command of Bharatarohaka, carried the disgraced King of Vatsa, a jewel of the Lunar Dynasty, and hurried him to Ujjayini.
King Chandamahasena, informed of the successful capture, came out to meet his prisoner with a show of the utmost respect, a subtle and cruel irony that twisted the knife of Udayana's humiliation. Chandamahasena bowed slightly. "Welcome to Ujjayini, King Udayana. It seems, since you would not come as a guest, Fate ordained you come as a... student."
The King of Avanti then escorted Udayana into the sprawling, magnificent city of Ujjayiní, a prisoner in chains, though treated as a valued dignitary.
11. Citizen Alarm and Intervention: The People’s Love
As the newly arrived King of Vatsa was paraded through the city, the citizens of Ujjayini came out in throngs to see the legendary monarch. They saw him, still handsome, still regal, but now spotted with the humiliation of captivity, yet pleasing to the eyes like a beautiful but scarred moon.
A ripple of fear and profound sorrow spread through the masses. Their king, Chandamahasena, was known for his ruthlessness. They suspected that Udayana, a man of such great virtues, was destined for execution.
Out of deep respect for his virtues—his musical genius, his warrior's spirit, and his dignified bearing even in chains—the citizens began to assemble in the public squares. A mass decision was made: they would commit suicide rather than witness the murder of such a virtuous king!
The court was thrown into chaos. Chandamahasena, however, was quickly informed of the dangerous agitation. He rushed out and addressed his people, his voice ringing with authority and surprising warmth. "Citizens of Ujjayini! Cease this foolishness! I have no intention of putting the King of Vatsa to death! His destiny is not the pyre, but a political alliance! I intend to win him over, not destroy him!" The king's declaration quelled the frenzy, confirming that even the mighty Chandamahasena was subject to the will and virtue of his own people.
12. The King Becomes a Music Teacher (and Captive): A New Destiny
With the civil unrest calmed, Chandamahasena brought Udayana before the assembled court.
"Prince," the King of Avanti announced, a slight smile playing on his lips, "you are an unrivaled master of the Veena. I have an only daughter, Vasavadatta, who is dedicated to the art of music. There is no one in my kingdom worthy to teach her. I therefore make her over to you. Teach her music. I assure you, in this way, you will obtain a happy issue to your adventure. Do not despond."
With a simple command, the great warrior and monarch was reduced to the role of a music tutor, his chains replaced by a singular, delicate duty.
13. Mutual Affection Develops: The First Look
And then, Vasavadatta entered the hall.
She was a vision of radiant beauty, her form delicate and her presence magnetic. Her eyes, filled with a shy curiosity, met the dark, intense gaze of the captive king.
Udayana, standing humbled and fettered, beheld the princess. All the burning rage and humiliation over his capture—his deepest, most justified anger—vanished. His mind was instantly steeped in love. He forgot his pride, his kingdom, and the dark forest floor where he had been bound.
Vasavadatta, for her part, felt an equally immediate and powerful pull. Her heart and mind turned towards him as one. Her eye was averted quickly through modest restraint, but her mind was not averted at all. The seed of a passionate, captive love was sown in the music hall.
14. Life in the Concert-Room: The Captive Court
Thus began a strange, intimate life for the two. The King of Vatsa, Udayana, dwelt in the concert-room of Chandamahasena’s palace, a gilded cage where he could see his new love every day.
He taught Vásavadattá to sing, his eyes ever fixed on her flawless profile, the line of her throat, the grace of her hands as she played. In his lap rested his lute, Ghoshavati, now an instrument of instruction, not conquest. In his throat resided the perfect quarter-tone of vocal music, and in front of him stood the princess, delighting his captive heart.
The princess, in return, was utterly devoted in her attentions to him. She cared for him with a loyalty that resembled the Goddess of Fortune Herself, who, though usually fickle, remained firmly attached to the captive king, refusing to leave him though he was a prisoner in her own father's palace.
Part II: The Minister’s Pledge and the Madman’s Charm
15. The Kingdom of Vatsa Learns of the Capture: Kauśambi in Chaos
While love blossomed in Ujjayini, the news of the King of Vatsa's capture reached his capital, Kauśambi. The men who had accompanied Udayana returned with the devastating report, and the entire country was thrown into a state of great excitement, bordering on anarchy.
16. Rumaṇvat Calms the Loyal Subjects: The Call for Policy
The enraged subjects, driven by their love for the King of Vatsa, swore an oath to raise a general assault on Ujjayiní and rescue their monarch.
But the veteran general Rumaṇvat stepped forward. He was a man of cold, hard logic, and he used it to check the impetuous fury of the people.
"Listen to me!" he commanded, his voice shaking with the effort of control. "Chandamahasena is a mighty monarch! He is not to be overcome by a rash, forced assault! Such an attack would only endanger the safety of the king! It would surely guarantee his death! Our object cannot be attained by brute force, but by policy!" His words were stern, but they held the weight of undeniable truth, and the subjects slowly submitted to his counsel.
17. Yaugandharáyaṇa Takes Charge: The Pledge of the Minister
It was then that Yaugandharáyaṇa, the chief minister, a man known for his calm, unflinching resolution, rose before the gathered assembly. Seeing the loyalty of the country was firm, he addressed Rumaṇvat and the others.
"All of you must remain here," he instructed. "Stay ever on the alert. Guard this country with unwavering vigilance, and when the opportune moment comes, display your prowess. But I—I will go with Vasantaka only, the King's jester and companion. I will go to Ujjayini, and I will, without fail, accomplish the deliverance of our king by my wisdom."
He spoke like a man who knew his destiny, his confidence restoring a sliver of hope to the assembly. "For he is a truly firm and resolute man," Yaugandharáyaṇa stated, "whose wisdom shines forth in adversity, just as the lightning flash is especially brilliant during pelting rain."
He smiled faintly, a shadow of the power he possessed. "I know spells for breaking through walls, and for rending fetters. I hold the receipts for becoming invisible, all serviceable at need."
Having spoken, and entrusting the entire care of the subjects and the kingdom to the steadfast Rumaṇvat, Yaugandharáyaṇa set out from Kauśambí, with only the King's faithful jester and friend, Vasantaka, at his side.
18. Journey to Ujjayiní and Alliance: The Path of Shadows
The two men entered the Vindhya forest, a wild place now made memorable by their king's defeat. The forest was full of life, like Yaugandharáyaṇa's own fertile wisdom, and yet intricate and trackless, perfectly mirroring the minister's subtle and labyrinthine policy.
Their first stop was a hidden peak of the Vindhya range, where the King of the Pulindas, Pulindaka by name, lived. Pulindaka was a fierce, loyal ally of the King of Vatsa. Yaugandharáyaṇa secured the alliance, placing the King of the Pulindas, with a large force, in immediate readiness to protect the King of Vatsa when he eventually returned that way.
The first thread of the policy was now securely woven. Yaugandharáyaṇa and Vasantaka then continued on, finally arriving at the very outskirts of Ujjayini.
19. Arrival at the Mahákála Burning-Ground: The Unholy Sanctuary
Their destination was the burning-ground of Mahákála in Ujjayiní, a desolate and terrifying place. It was densely tenanted by vampires—rotting corpses that smelt of carrion—who hovered hither and thither, black as night, rivals to the smoke-wreaths of the funeral pyres. This unholy ground, filled with death and potent magic, was the perfect sanctuary for the minister's plan.
20. Magical Transformation of Yaugandharáyaṇa: The Madman’s Mask
It was at the burning-ground that a strange figure approached them: a Brahman-Rakshasa (a powerful, ghost-like being) of the name of Yogeśvara. He was delighted to see Yaugandharáyaṇa and instantly admitted the minister into his friendship.
Yaugandharáyaṇa, seeing his opportunity, asked the Rakshasa for a favor. He used a powerful charm, which Yogeśvara taught him, to suddenly and violently alter his shape.
The charm was immediate and horrific. It made him deformed, hunchbacked, and old. It gave him the startling appearance of a madman, one whose antics and appearance were so absurd and grotesque that he produced loud, uncontrollable laughter in all who beheld him.
21. Vasantaka's Transformation: The Grotesque Companion
Yaugandharáyaṇa then used the very same charm to transform his loyal companion, Vasantaka. The minister gave the jester a body filled with outstanding veins, a hugely distended stomach, and an ugly mouth with projecting teeth, transforming the amiable jester into a figure of utter physical comedy and revulsion.
22. Entrance to the Palace: The Grotesque Procession
Yaugandharáyaṇa then sent Vasantaka on in front to the palace gate. He himself entered Ujjayiní with his newly acquired appearance.
He walked through the streets, singing and dancing madly, surrounded by Brahman boys who followed him in curious droves. He was an instant spectacle, beheld with astonished curiosity by all, and in this manner, he made his theatrical way to the gate of the King’s palace. The disguise was flawless—no one would ever suspect this drooling, dancing lunatic was the brilliant Chief Minister of Vatsa.
23. Vásavadattá Summons the Madman: The Princess’s Curiosity
Inside the palace, the sight of the raving figure at the gate soon excited the curiosity of the King's wives. News of the comical madman at the gate eventually reached Vasavadatta in the concert-room.
For youth is twin-brother to mirth, and the princess, despite the solemnity of her station, was no exception. She quickly sent a trusted maid to have the madman brought directly to the music-room. She needed a diversion, a moment of lightness in the grave atmosphere of the palace.
24. The Secret Reunion and Communication: A Tear in the Mask
When Yaugandharáyaṇa finally came into the concert-room, his eyes, burning with feverish intent, rested upon his master. He beheld the King of Vatsa, still regal, but sitting there in fetters—a sight that pierced the madman's disguise. Despite the mask of madness he wore, the minister could not help shedding tears.
The King of Vatsa, who had been watching the spectacle with a weary detachment, caught the intense, grieving gaze, and the sudden, tell-tale tears. He quickly recognized him, seeing the true man behind the mask of deformity.
Then, with an instant summoning of his magical power, Yaugandharáyaṇa made himself invisible to Vasavadatta and her entire train of maids.
Vasavadatta and her companions cried out in genuine astonishment. "That maniac has suddenly escaped! He has simply vanished somewhere or other!"
25. Instructions and Magic Aids: The Lute’s Secret
The King of Vatsa, Udayana, hearing their bewildered exclamations and seeing his minister standing invisibly before him, understood at once that this was all due to magic.
He turned to Vasavadatta and spoke cunningly. "Go, my good girl, and bring the requisites for the worship of the Goddess Sarasvati." She replied, "So I will," and left the room with her companions.
Now alone, Yaugandharáyaṇa approached the king. He communicated to him, according to the prescribed mystical form, the secret spells for breaking chains. At the same time, he provided Udayana with other vital charms—powerful talismans for winning the heart of Vasavadatta—which he cleverly secured and concealed in the strings of the lute.
He also informed the king that Vasantaka had arrived and was standing outside the door, also in a changed form, and recommended the king to have the Brahman summoned. "When this lady Vásavadattá shall come to repose her confidence in you," Yaugandharáyaṇa cautioned, his voice low and urgent, "then you must do what I tell you. But for the present, remain quiet."
Having delivered his instructions, Yaugandharáyaṇa quickly slipped out of the room. Immediately, Vásavadattá entered, bearing the requisites for the worship of Sarasvati.
26. Vasantaka is Summoned and Weeps: The Jester's Anguish
"There is a Brahman standing outside the door," the King of Vatsa told Vásavadattá. "Let him be brought in to celebrate this ceremony in honor of Sarasvati. He can obtain a sacrificial fee."
Vásavadattá consented, and the maid summoned Vasantaka, who wore his deformed, grotesque shape, from the door into the music-hall.
When Vasantaka was brought in and saw the King of Vatsa—his friend and master—in fetters, the brave, loyal jester instantly wept for sorrow. His large, ugly mouth twisted in true anguish, and tears streamed down his bulging veins.
27. The Secret is Kept and Laughter Ensues: A Moment of Lightness
The King of Vatsa knew he had to act fast to protect the secret. "O Brahman," he said to Vasantaka, his voice full of feigned pity, "I will remove all this deformity of thine, which was produced by a sickness. Do not weep, but remain here near me."
Vasantaka, playing his part perfectly, replied, "It is a great condescension on thy part, O king."
The King, seeing the truly absurd extent of his jester's magical deformity, found that he could not keep his countenance and had to suppress a strong smile. Vasantaka, guessing the king's momentary amusement, instantly burst into a peal of laughter himself, which only made the deformity of his distorted face increase.
At this sight, Vásavadattá, seeing him grinning like a grotesque doll, burst out laughing as well, and was much delighted, the tension momentarily shattered.
28. Vasantaka's Storytelling Role: The Entertainment
The young lady, still amused, asked Vasantaka in jest, "Brahman, what science are you familiar with? Tell us!"
Vasantaka, remembering his true role as jester and companion, and seeing his opportunity to begin the distraction, replied, "Princess, I am an adept at telling tales."
"Come, tell me a tale," she prompted, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Thus, to please his king's beloved, the transformed Vasantaka began his famous tale, a story charming by its comic humor, variety, and deeply symbolic meaning.
Part III: The Tale of Revenge and Redemption
29. Story of Rupinika: The Courtesan and the Poor Brahman
"In this country," Vasantaka began, his voice surprisingly clear despite his misshapen mouth, "there is a city named Mathura, the birthplace of the Lord Krishna. There, a beautiful courtesan lived, known by the name of Rupinika. Her mother was an old kuṭṭiní (procuress) named Makaradanshṭra, who was, by all accounts, a veritable lump of poison in the eyes of any young man not already weighed down with gold."
He paused for effect. "One day, Rupinika went to the temple. There, she beheld a young man. A Brahman named Lohajangha. He was handsome, but he possessed no wealth. When she saw him, his image made such a profound impression upon her heart that all the profit-driven instructions of her mother vanished from her memory."
Rupinika instantly sent her maid. Lohajangha, bewildered, told the maid, "I am a poor man. I have no wealth. What business have I in the house of Rupinika, which is only entered by the rich?"
The maid replied simply, "My mistress does not desire wealth from you." Lohajangha consented, and went to her house. Rupinika greeted him with utter respect and led him, in her joy, to her private apartments.
30. Mother's Treachery (Makaradanshṭra's Plot): The Viper’s Advice
Rupinika was captivated by Lohajangha’s wealth of accomplishments and came to believe she had been born only to love him. She avoided all other men.
"This, as you can imagine," Vasantaka narrated, leaning in dramatically, "infuriated the old kuṭṭiní, Makaradanshṭra. She had trained countless courtesans, and this love was a ruinous offense! She confronted her daughter in private."
"'My daughter, why do you associate with a poor man?'" the mother hissed. "'Hetæræ of good taste embrace a corpse in preference to a pauper! What business has a hetæra like you with affection? The splendor of a hetæra who gives way to affection lasts but a short time! You must exhibit only an assumed affection in order to get wealth. Forsake this pauper! Do not ruin yourself!'"
But Rupinika, in a rage, replied, "'Do not talk in this way! I love him more than my life! I have plenty of wealth; what do I want with more? Do not speak to me again!'"
Makaradanshṭrá's fury turned to cold, hard calculation. She became obsessed with devising a scheme for getting rid of the pauper, Lohajangha.
31. The Assault on Lohajangha: A Coward's Blows
Makaradanshṭrá's opportunity arose when she saw a certain Rajput coming along the road. He was a brute of a man, accompanied by retainers holding swords, who had spent all his own wealth.
She approached him quickly. "'My house is beset by a poor lover,'" she said, pulling him aside. "'Come there today and deal with him in such a way that he shall be forced to depart from my house. Do this, and you may possess my daughter.'"
"Agreed," said the Rajput, and entered the house. At that precise moment, Rupinika was at the temple, and Lohajangha was briefly absent.
Lohajangha, suspecting nothing, returned only moments later. Immediately, the retainers of the Rajput fell upon him. They gave him severe kicks and blows on all his limbs. Then, to complete his degradation, they threw him into a ditch full of all kinds of impurities.
Lohajangha, half-dead, managed to drag himself out and escape with the greatest difficulty.
32. Lohajangha's Despair and Escape: The Search for Endings
Rupinika returned to the house and was distracted with grief when she heard what had taken place. The Rajput, seeing her genuine distress, returned as he came, his plan for her hand ruined by the very depth of her love.
Lohajangha, after suffering this brutal outrage by the machinations of the kuṭṭiní, was utterly broken. He set out for a holy place of pilgrimage, intending to leave his life there, now that he was separated from his beloved.
33. Refuge in the Elephant Carcass: A Strange Shelter
As he walked through the wild, desolate country, his heart was burning with anger against the kuṭṭiní and his skin was baked by the cruel heat of the summer sun. He longed for shade.
He could find no tree, but instead, he came upon the massive carcass of an elephant. It had been stripped of all its flesh by jackals, who had made their way in and out through a tear in the hind-quarters. Nothing but the hard, dried skin remained—a hollow shell.
Lohajangha was utterly worn out. He crept into this shell, which was kept surprisingly cool by a breeze that freely entered through the various holes, and fell into a deep, desperate sleep.
34. The Flood and the Sea Journey: Destiny’s Current
Then, fate intervened with a terrible, whimsical force. Suddenly, black clouds arose from all sides of the sky and began to pour down a pelting shower of rain.
The copious rain caused the massive elephant’s skin to contract violently, sealing the holes and leaving no aperture open. Immediately after, a mighty inundation came sweeping that way, carrying off the heavy, sealed elephant hide like a cork.
The hide, with Lohajangha still sleeping inside, was swept along by the torrent, into the raging river, and eventually borne into the open sea.
35. Rescue by the Garuḍa Bird: A Shocking Awakening
The tide carried the hide out far into the ocean. There, a great bird of the race of Garuḍa—a winged messenger of the gods—saw the immense skin floating. Supposing it to be a piece of tempting carrion, it seized the hide and carried it in its mighty talons to the other side of the sea.
The bird landed on a desolate shore and began to tear open the elephant’s hide with its claws. Lohajangha was awaked by the bird’s sharp pecking and scratching. He burst out through the aperture made by the bird's beak, terrified and disoriented. The bird, seeing a man where it expected rotting flesh, shrieked and fled.
Lohajangha found himself on the other side of the vast, terrifying ocean, and stared at the bizarre landscape, looking upon the entire event as a day-dream, an impossibility.
36. Encounter with the Rákshasas: The Fear of Man
He then saw, to his immense terror, two enormous and horrible Rákshasas (demons) standing nearby.
However, the sight of Lohajangha, a man who had somehow crossed the ocean, filled the demons with profound fear. They instantly remembered the terrifying, absolute defeat suffered by their race at the hands of the god-man Rama, and the very sight of a man on their shore alarmed their hearts once more.
37. Vibhíshaṇa's Invitation: The Consequence of Victory
After deliberating with great anxiety, one of the Rákshasas hurried away and reported the entire occurrence to their King, Vibhíshaṇa, the righteous monarch of Lanká.
Vibhíshaṇa, who had himself seen the incredible prowess of Rama, was equally terrified at the arrival of a mere man. He said to the Rákshasa, "Go, my good friend, and tell that man from me in a friendly manner, that he is to do me the favor of coming to my palace."
The Rákshasa, still timidly, approached Lohajangha and delivered the request. Lohajangha, a beggar only a day ago, accepted the invitation with unruffled calm, and went to Lanká with the two Rákshasas.
38. The Pious Lie and Divine Power: A Man of God
Upon entering the legendary city of Lanká, Lohajangha was astonished, beholding numerous splendid edifices made of gold. He entered the palace and saw King Vibhíshaṇa.
Vibhíshaṇa welcomed the Brahman with respect. "Brahman," the king asked, "how did you manage to reach this country, which is utterly unapproachable by mortals?"
The cunning Lohajangha, seeing the opportunity to establish his divinity, spoke an elaborate, pious lie to the King of the Rákshasas.
"I am a Brahman of Mathurá," he began. "Afflicted at my poverty, I performed austerities before the god Náráyaṇa (Vishnu) for a long time. Then the adorable Hari commanded me in a dream, saying, 'Go thou to Vibhíshaṇa, for he is a faithful worshipper of mine, and he will give thee wealth.'"
Lohajangha paused, adding a final, potent touch. "'I told the Lord that Vibhíshaṇa was unreachable,' he continued. 'But the Lord said, “Today shalt thou see that Vibhíshaṇa.” The Lord spake, and immediately I woke up and found myself upon this side of the sea. I know no more."
Vibhíshaṇa, hearing this fantastic tale, reflected on the sheer difficulty of reaching Lanká. He concluded: "Of a truth, this man possesses divine power." He said to the Brahman, "Remain here. I will give you wealth."
39. The Gift of the Bird: Preparing for Flight
Vibhíshaṇa kept Lohajangha as an inviolable deposit, and sent his subjects to a mountain in his kingdom called Swarṇamúla (Golden Root). From there, they brought back a powerful, young bird belonging to the race of Garuḍa.
Vibhíshaṇa gave the bird to Lohajangha—who had a long journey to Mathurá—to ride upon, so that he might, in the meantime, break it in. Lohajangha mounted the bird and rode about on its back in Lanká for some time, resting, entertained, and plotting.
40. The Mystery of Lanká's Wooden Ground: The Tale of the Branch
One day, filled with curiosity, Lohajangha asked the King of the Rákshasas why the entire ground of Lanká was made of wood.
Vibhíshaṇa explained the strange circumstance. "Brahman, listen. Long ago, Garuḍa, wishing to redeem his mother from slavery, was preparing to obtain the divine nectar for her ransom. He needed to eat something that would increase his strength. His father, Kaśyapa, told him that in the sea there was a huge elephant and a huge tortoise, cursed to their forms, and that he should eat them."
Vibhíshaṇa's voice lowered in awe. "Garuḍa brought them both to eat, and then perched upon a mighty bough of the great wishing-tree of paradise. That bough suddenly broke with his colossal weight! Garuḍa held it up with his beak, out of respect for the sages, the Bálakhilyas, who were engaged in austerities underneath it."
"Garuḍa, afraid the bough would crush mankind if he let it fall at random, brought it to this uninhabited part of the earth and let it drop. Lanká was then built on the top of that bough," Vibhíshaṇa concluded. "Therefore, the ground here is of wood." Lohajangha was perfectly satisfied.
41. Lohajangha Departs with Riches: The Divine Arsenal
The time for departure arrived. Vibhíshaṇa gave Lohajangha many valuable jewels as payment for the Brahman's holy troubles.
Then, out of his pure devotion to the god Vishṇu, who dwells at Mathurá, he entrusted to Lohajangha a majestic lotus, a heavy club (mace), a sacred shell, and a deadly discus, all forged of pure gold, to be offered to the deity.
Lohajangha took the immense treasure, mounted the Garuḍa bird—a creature that could accomplish a hundred thousand yojanas (a vast distance) in a single leap—and, rising up into the air over Lanká, he crossed the sea and arrived without difficulty at Mathurá.
42. Return to Mathurá and Preparation: The New God
He descended from the air in an empty convent outside the town. There, he deposited his abundant treasure and securely tied up the Garuḍa bird.
He then went into the market, sold a single jewel to acquire currency, and bought new garments, scented unguents, and food. He fed himself and his bird, and then adorned himself with the clothes, flowers, and decorations.
He was no longer the beaten, penniless Lohajangha. He was about to become a god.
43. The Divine Ruse Begins: The God Descends
When night fell, Lohajangha mounted the same bird. He flew to the house of Rupinika, now bearing the divine symbols in his hands: the shell, discus, and mace of Vishṇu, all of gold.
Knowing the house well, he hovered over it in the air and made a low, deep, attracting sound with the golden shell.
Rupinika, who was alone, immediately came out. She saw hovering in the air by night a being like the god Náráyaṇa, gleaming with jewels and holding the holy weapons.
44. Rupinika Believes She's the God's Wife: The Fervent Devotee
"I am Hari (Vishnu)," the figure called down, his voice amplified by the night. "I have come hither for thy sake."
Rupinika instantly bowed, her face to the earth, a rush of fervor and awe washing over her. "May the god have mercy upon me!" she whispered in total surrender.
Lohajangha descended, tied up his bird, and entered the private apartments of his beloved, hand in hand with her. After a short time, he came out, mounted the bird, and vanished into the night sky, flying off through the air as if returning to his celestial abode.
45. The Kuṭṭiní is Enlisted: The Request for Paradise
In the morning, Rupinika was utterly transformed. She remained observing an obstinate silence, thinking to herself, I am the wife of the god Vishṇu, I must cease to converse with mere mortals.
Her mother, Makaradanshṭrá, questioned her persistently until, finally, Rupinika had a curtain put up between herself and her parent, and from behind it, told the story of the god’s visit.
The kuṭṭiní felt doubt, but the following night, she secretly saw that very figure—Lohajangha mounted on the bird, gleaming in the moonlight.
In the morning, Makaradanshṭrá came secretly to Rupinika, who was still behind the curtain, and, inclining herself humbly, preferred her request.
"Through the favor of the god," she pleaded, "you have obtained the rank of a goddess here on earth. I am your mother. Therefore, grant me a reward for giving you birth: entreat the god that, old as I am, with this very body, I may enter Paradise! Do me this favor!"
46. The Plan for the 'Gaṇa' Disguise: The Price of Heaven
Rupinika consented, and that night, she requested the boon from Lohajangha, who came again, perfectly disguised as Vishṇu.
Lohajangha, still personating the god, replied to his beloved. "Your mother is a wicked woman. It would not be fitting to take her openly to Paradise. However, on the morning of the eleventh day, the door of heaven is opened, and many of the Gaṇas—Lord Shiva's peculiar companions—enter before anyone else is admitted."
He then laid out the instructions for his elaborate, wicked revenge. "Among them, I will introduce this mother of yours, if she assumes their appearance. So, shave her head with a razor, in such a manner that five locks shall be left. Put a necklace of sculls around her neck. Strip off her clothes, and paint one side of her body with lamp-black, and the other with red lead! When she has in this way been made to resemble a Gaṇa, I shall find it an easy matter to get her into heaven."
Having given the instructions, Lohajangha departed.
47. The Ascent and Abandonment: The Foolish Hope
In the morning, Rupinika, totally convinced, attired her mother exactly as the god had directed. Makaradanshṭrá, her mind fixed entirely on Paradise, submitted to the grotesque transformation.
When night came, Lohajangha reappeared. Rupinika, with a sense of immense pride and pious duty, handed over her mother.
Lohajangha mounted the bird and took the kuṭṭiní, now naked and transformed, up with him, flying rapidly into the air.
48. The Ultimate Revenge: The Banner of Shame
While high in the air, Lohajangha beheld a lofty stone pillar standing in front of the temple, with a discus on its summit.
He executed his revenge. He placed the naked, grotesquely painted Makaradanshṭrá on the top of the pillar, with the discus as her only support. There she hung, impossibly suspended, a living, screaming, horrific banner, there "to blazon forth his revenge for his ill-usage."
"Remain here a moment," he told her. "I must bless the earth with my approach," and instantly vanished from her sight.
49. Prophecy of the Falling Goddess: The Cry from the Sky
Lohajangha then flew to a spot where he beheld a number of people in front of the temple, who had come there to spend the night in devout vigils before a festive procession.
He called aloud from the air, his voice echoing with terrible, divine authority. "Hear, ye people! This very day there shall fall upon you here the all-destroying goddess of Pestilence! Therefore, fly to Hari (Vishnu) for protection!"
50. The Citizen's Terror: The Goddess is Falling
When they heard this terrifying voice from the air, all the inhabitants of Mathurá were struck with terror. They fell to the ground, imploring the protection of the god, and remained devoutly muttering prayers to ward off calamity.
Lohajangha, for his part, descended from the air, quickly changed out of his divine disguise without being observed, and came to stand among the people, encouraging them to pray harder.
Meanwhile, the kuṭṭiní, perched impossibly on the pillar, thought, The god has not come as yet, and I have not reached heaven. At last, feeling it utterly impossible to remain up there any longer, she cried out in her fear, a desperate wail that the people below heard perfectly.
"Alas! I am falling! I am falling!"
Hearing that, the people in front of the temple were beside themselves with panic, convinced that the destroying goddess was falling upon them exactly as had been foretold! They cried out, "O goddess, do not fall! Do not fall!"
51. The Resolution and the Truth: Laughter in the Dawn
The young and old people of Mathurá spent that night in perpetual dread that the destroying goddess would fall upon them.
But the night finally ended. As the sun rose, they beheld the figure upon the pillar. They saw the five locks of hair, the skull necklace, the naked, painted body, and the terrified face. The citizens and the king instantly recognized her as the notorious old kuṭṭiní.
All the people instantly forgot their alarm and burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Rupinika herself, having heard of the bizarre event, finally arrived. When she saw her mother, she was deeply abashed and, with the help of the gathered people, managed to get her mother down from the top of the pillar.
The kuṭṭiní was then asked by everyone to tell the whole story, and in her humiliation, she did so.
52. Lohajangha is Honored: The Prince of Vengeance
Thereupon, the king, the Brahmans, and the merchants, realizing that this magnificent, laughable incident must have been brought about by a sorcerer or some person of that description, made a general proclamation.
They announced that whoever had made a fool of the notorious kuṭṭiní, who had deceived innumerable lovers, was to show himself, and he would receive a turban of honor on the spot.
When he heard that, Lohajangha made himself known to those present. Being questioned, he related the whole story from its commencement, and he offered the discus, shell, club, and lotus of gold—the magnificent present sent by Vibhíshaṇa—to the god, a sight that aroused the astonishment of the people.
The people of Mathurá, utterly pleased by his cleverness and poetic justice, immediately invested him with a turban of honor. By the command of the king, they made Rupinika a free woman.
Lohajangha, having wreaked his perfect, elaborate revenge upon the kuṭṭiní, lived in great comfort in Mathurá with his beloved Rupinika, wealthy by means of the large stock of jewels he had brought from Lanká.
53. King of Vatsa's Delight: The Subtlety of the Message
Vasantaka concluded his tale, adjusting his enormous, grotesque mask.
Vasavadatta, who was sitting at the side of the fettered King of Vatsa, had listened to the entire story with rapt attention. She felt a moment of extreme delight in her heart.
She realized what the tale truly meant: it was a story of a captured hero, a woman's unwavering loyalty, a villain’s defeat, a master plan, and a triumphant, elaborate escape. The message, delivered through the misshapen mouth of a loyal jester, was clear: Do not lose hope. The plan for your deliverance is already in motion.
The captured king smiled, his eyes meeting his princess's for a fleeting moment of perfect understanding. The stage for their own great escape had been set.
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