227. Katha Sarit Sagara : Chapter 17
The flickering lamps cast long, dancing shadows across the royal chamber. King Udayana of Vatsa, his arm around his beloved Queen Vásavadattá, smiled at Princess Padmávatí, who sat gracefully beside them. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the clinking of gold. After a sumptuous banquet, the king, his heart brimming with contentment, summoned his most trusted companions: the shrewd minister Yaugandharáyaṇa, the valiant Gopálaka, the steady Rumaṇvat, and the ever-amusing Vasantaka.
“My friends,” Udayana began, his voice low and intimate, “tonight, in the company of my queens, I feel a rare peace. But this peace was hard-won, a treasure salvaged from the depths of separation. It reminds me of another tale, a story of love and loss, of divine intervention and human longing. Have you heard of the saga of Urvaśí?”
His eyes, full of a distant sorrow and a present joy, gazed into the middle distance as he began to weave his narrative.
1. Royal Banquet and Confidential Meeting
The royal palace of Kausambhi buzzed with the quiet hum of contentment. King Udayana, having reunited with his beloved queen Vásavadattá and embraced the alliance with Princess Padmávatí, hosted a magnificent banquet. Laughter, music, and the clinking of gold goblets filled the grand hall. Later, in the privacy of his inner chambers, Udayana sat with his two queens, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of oil lamps.
"My heart is full tonight," Udayana confessed, his gaze tenderly sweeping over Vásavadattá, then Padmávatí. "The trials we have faced, the separations we have endured, only make this peace more precious."
Vásavadattá’s hand instinctively reached for his. "Indeed, my lord. It is a peace born of hardship, a testament to enduring love."
Padmávatí nodded, her expression serene. "And the wisdom of your ministers, my King, who navigated those turbulent waters."
Udayana smiled, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "Ah, my ministers. Yes, they are indeed the pillars of my kingdom." He clapped his hands, and soon, four figures entered: Yaugandharáyaṇa, his prime minister, ever astute; Gopálaka, the valiant general; Rumaṇvat, the steadfast counselor; and Vasantaka, the king's jovial companion.
"My friends," Udayana addressed them, "come, join us. There is much I wish to discuss, secrets of the heart and affairs of the state, that only you, my most trusted confidantes, can truly comprehend."
He paused, a wistful look crossing his face. "Tonight, as I reflect on my own journey through separation and reunion, I am reminded of a profound tale, a story that speaks of the very essence of longing and the power of divine will. It is the Story of Urvaśí."
2. The King Recounts the Story of Urvaśí
Udayana settled back, a storyteller’s gleam in his eyes. "Once, long ago," he began, his voice rich with ancient echoes, "there lived a king named Purúravas. He was a monarch of unmatched valor and virtue, a devout worshipper of Lord Vishnu Himself. His glory was such that he moved freely not only across the earth but even through the celestial realms, unchallenged."
Vásavadattá leaned forward, captivated. "A king who walked amongst the gods?" she murmured.
"Indeed," Udayana confirmed. "And it was in one such celestial sojourn, within the enchanting Nandana garden – a paradise of fragrant blossoms and shimmering streams – that destiny intervened. There, he encountered a vision that would forever change his life."
He paused, letting the suspense build. "He saw Urvaśí, an Apsara, a celestial nymph, whose beauty was so breathtaking, so utterly captivating, that it was said to be a stupefying weapon in the hands of Kama, the god of love. Her mere presence could steal one’s breath away, her gaze could ignite an unquenchable fire."
3. Purúravas and Urvaśí’s First Encounter
Udayana's voice grew softer, imbued with the awe of the encounter. "The moment Urvaśí's eyes fell upon Purúravas, a mortal king amidst divine splendor, she was utterly undone. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her heart. Her senses reeled; her composure, usually so ethereal and perfect, shattered. Her friends, Rambhá and other Apsaras, looked on in alarm, witnessing the usually serene Urvaśí completely lose herself in the throes of an immediate, overwhelming love."
"And Purúravas," the king continued, "when he beheld that torrent of beauty, that vision of nectar made flesh, he too was pierced. A profound thirst, an aching desire, seized him. He yearned for her with every fiber of his being, yet she seemed as unattainable as the stars. He stood there, frozen, his heart pounding, a king conquered by a single glance."
"Ah, the intoxicating power of first sight!" Vasantaka chuckled, though his eyes too were wide with wonder.
4. Vishṇu Intervenes for the Lovers
"But the cosmos, my friends," Udayana went on, "is watched over by a benevolent eye. Far away, in the milky ocean, rested Lord Vishṇu, the preserver of the universe. He, who knows all hearts, all desires, all suffering, was aware of the agony that gripped both Purúravas and Urvaśí. He knew of their silent, unbearable longing."
"One day," the king narrated, "the revered sage Nárada, a divine wanderer and messenger, arrived to pay his respects to Lord Vishṇu. After the usual courtesies, Vishṇu, with a gentle smile, addressed the sage. ‘O Divine sage,’ He said, His voice resonating with cosmic wisdom, ‘the noble King Purúravas, currently enchanted within the Nandana garden, has been utterly captivated by Urvaśí. He suffers greatly from the pain of separation, though their union has not yet even begun.’"
"Nárada listened intently, his heart filled with compassion."
"‘Therefore, O hermit,’ Vishṇu commanded, His eyes conveying profound purpose, ‘go swiftly. Convey my message to Indra, the king of the gods. Instruct him, as from Me, to promptly bestow Urvaśí upon King Purúravas. Let these two souls find their destined union.’"
5. Nárada Executes Vishṇu's Command
Udayana continued, his voice now imbued with the sage's swift resolve. "Nárada, without a moment's hesitation, bowed to the supreme Lord. ‘As you command, my Lord,’ he replied, and instantly departed, his celestial journey swift and silent."
"He found Purúravas in the Nandana garden, still lost in a daze of longing, a shadow of his former kingly self. Gently, Nárada roused him from his lethargy. ‘Rise, O King!’ the sage’s voice was warm and reassuring. ‘For your sake, I have been sent by Lord Vishṇu Himself. That great god, Purúravas, never neglects the sufferings of those who are truly devoted to Him.’"
"Purúravas, upon hearing the divine name and seeing the sage, felt a surge of hope, a spark igniting in his despair. His eyes, though still clouded, held a newfound light."
"With these comforting words, Nárada not only cheered the king but also took him under his wing, leading him directly to the magnificent presence of Indra, the king of the gods, in his celestial court."
"There, before the assembly of gods, Nárada conveyed Vishṇu's divine decree. Indra, wise and reverent, received the command with folded hands and a bowed head. He understood the cosmic significance of Vishṇu's will. And so, without objection, the sage Nárada brought about the union, causing the radiant Urvaśí to be given to King Purúravas, fulfilling the divine mandate."
6. The Heavenly Bride and Constant Companionship
"The gift of Urvaśí, though a joy to her, was a moment of profound sorrow for the inhabitants of heaven," Udayana explained, a hint of the divine drama in his tone. "To them, it was as if a vital spark, a source of celestial delight, had been taken away. But for Urvaśí herself, it was an elixir, restoring her to life, infusing her with a joy she had never known. Her heart soared, finally united with her chosen mortal."
"Then, Purúravas, his quest fulfilled, returned to Earth with Urvaśí by his side. Imagine, my friends, the spectacle! A mortal king returning with a celestial nymph, a bride from the heavens, exhibiting such a wondrous sight to the eyes of ordinary mortals."
"From that day forward, those two – Urvaśí and King Purúravas – were inseparable. It was as if they were fastened together by an invisible leash, the leash of mutual gazing, of absolute adoration. Their eyes were constantly drawn to each other, drinking in every feature, every expression. They simply could not bear to be apart, each finding their universe reflected in the other."
"A love so profound, it binds two souls beyond realms!" Vásavadattá exclaimed, deeply moved.
7. The Curse of Separation
Udayana’s expression grew somber, indicating a shift in the narrative’s mood. "But even in the deepest joy, destiny weaves its intricate patterns. One day, a great war erupted in the heavens between Indra and the formidable Dánavas. Indra, remembering Purúravas's valor, invited the king to assist him in battle."
"Purúravas, ever loyal and brave, ascended to heaven once more, fought valiantly, and slew the chief of the Asuras, named Máyádhara. A great victory! To celebrate, Indra held a magnificent feast, where all the celestial nymphs displayed their exquisite artistry."
"It was during this celebration that a fateful incident occurred. The nymph Rambhá, renowned for her grace, was performing a dramatic dance known as 'chalita,' guided by her revered teacher, Tumburu. As Purúravas watched, he, perhaps in a moment of pride or pure enjoyment, laughed."
"Rambhá, observing his amusement, felt a sting of sarcasm. She paused, addressing him pointedly. 'I suppose, mortal,' she said, her voice dripping with subtle disdain, 'you, a mere human, know this heavenly dance better than we, do you not?'"
"Purúravas, blinded by his deep love and association with Urvaśí, retorted, 'Indeed! From associating with Urvaśí, I have learned dances that even your esteemed teacher Tumburu might not know!'"
"The words hung heavy in the celestial air. Tumburu, a great sage and master, heard this boast. His face contorted with anger, his divine patience snapped. 'Mayest thou be separated from Urvaśí,' he thundered, his voice echoing through the hall, 'until thou propitiate Lord Kṛishṇa!'"
A collective gasp went around Udayana's chamber. "A curse!" Padmávatí whispered.
8. Urvaśí’s Abduction and Purúravas’s Penance
"The moment the curse fell," Udayana continued, his voice hushed, "a chill ran through Purúravas's heart. It was a thunderbolt from the blue, striking him down from the heights of joy. He rushed to Urvaśí, his face pale, and recounted the terrible events, the curse that had just been pronounced."
"Even as he spoke, even as he looked into her beloved eyes, an unseen force began to work. Suddenly, from nowhere, some Gandharvas, celestial musicians and spirits, swooped down. They were invisible to the king’s eyes, swift as the wind. Before Purúravas could even comprehend what was happening, or even lay a hand on her, they snatched Urvaśí away! Whither she was carried, he knew not. She simply vanished, like a dream at dawn."
"The shock, the agony! Purúravas, now truly alone, knew instantly that this calamity was the direct consequence of Tumburu's curse. There was only one path left for him. To seek solace, to seek redemption, he journeyed to the sacred hermitage of Badariká, a place of profound spiritual power. There, he resolved to perform rigorous penance, to appease Lord Vishṇu, whose form is Kṛishṇa, to lift the dreadful curse that had torn his world apart."
9. Urvaśí’s Suffering and Reunion
"Meanwhile, Urvaśí," Udayana said, his voice tinged with the sorrow of her plight, "found herself in the distant, unfamiliar country of the Gandharvas. Afflicted by her sudden, brutal separation from Purúravas, she was like a being devoid of sense. It was as if she were dead, or perhaps lost in a deep, dreamless sleep, or merely a painted picture, her vibrant spirit dimmed."
"She clung to life by the thinnest thread, sustained only by the desperate hope for the curse to end. It was a wonder, truly, that she did not succumb to despair, that her hold on life did not falter. She endured her separation like the female chakraváka bird, fated to be apart from her mate every night, waiting endlessly for the dawn that would reunite them."
"But the cosmos listens to fervent devotion. Purúravas, in the hermitage of Badariká, poured his entire being into his penance. His prayers, his austerities, reached the divine ears of Lord Vishṇu. Pleased by such profound devotion and steadfastness, Vishṇu Himself intervened."
"And so, by Vishṇu’s grace, the Gandharvas, who had taken Urvaśí, were compelled to surrender her. They returned her to the waiting arms of Purúravas. Imagine, my friends, the reunion! That king, at last, re-united with the nymph he had so tragically lost, at the termination of the curse. He recovered her as one would recover a lost treasure, and thenceforth, though living on Earth, they enjoyed pleasures that were truly heavenly, their love sanctified by divine intervention."
Udayana finished his tale, a profound silence settling over the chamber. Vásavadattá, who had listened intently, felt a flush of shame creep up her neck. She, too, had endured separation from her husband. The depth of Urvaśí’s attachment, the sheer suffering she faced, made Vásavadattá’s own ordeal seem less dramatic, perhaps even less noble in comparison. She felt a silent, indirect reproof from her husband's story.
10. Vásavadattá’s Shame and Yaugandharáyaṇa’s Response
Yaugandharáyaṇa, ever watchful, ever perceptive, noticed the subtle change in Vásavadattá's demeanor. He saw her downcast eyes, the slight tightening of her lips, the sudden blush on her cheeks. He understood immediately that the King’s tale, however unintentional, had struck a sensitive chord, making the Queen feel abashed, as if her own actions in the past had been found wanting.
The minister, fiercely loyal to his queen and cunning in his strategies, knew he must act to restore her confidence and subtly redirect the King's perspective. With a deferential bow, he spoke, his voice calm and measured.
"My King," Yaugandharáyaṇa began, "your tale of Urvaśí is indeed profoundly moving, a testament to enduring love and divine grace. However, if I may, I believe there is another story, perhaps one you have not yet heard, that illustrates a different facet of devotion and duty. A story that reveals the sacrifices made not just by lovers, but by those who guard the interests of the kingdom and its King. It is the Story of Vihitasena."
Udayana raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his minister's sudden interjection. "Proceed, Yaugandharáyaṇa," he commanded, a slight smile playing on his lips, sensing the subtle game afoot.
11. The Love-Sick King Vihitasena
Yaugandharáyaṇa began, his voice taking on the cadence of a seasoned storyteller. "Long ago, on this very Earth, there existed a city of immense prosperity and beauty, named Timirá. It was as if the goddess Lakshmi herself had made her dwelling there. In this city reigned a king, famed for his virtues and his might, named Vihitasena."
"But King Vihitasena, despite his martial prowess, had one singular devotion that eclipsed all others: his wife, Queen Tejovatí. She was a woman of unparalleled beauty and grace, truly a goddess walking upon the earth. The King was utterly consumed by his love for her. He was constantly entwined with her, ever seeking her embraces, her presence. So profound was his attachment that he could not bear even the slightest physical separation, recoiling from the briefest scratch from a coat of mail if it meant being away from her touch."
"Such was their devotion that it seemed nothing could come between them. However, fate, as it often does, had a cruel twist in store."
"One day, a lingering fever, subtle at first but gradually diminishing his strength, afflicted King Vihitasena. It was a persistent ailment that slowly sapped his vitality."
12. Physicians' Orders and Ministers' Plot
"The royal physicians, after much examination and consultation," Yaugandharáyaṇa narrated, "came to a grave conclusion. They informed the King that, for his recovery, he absolutely had to cease his close contact with Queen Tejovatí. Her constant presence, her touch, however comforting, was hindering his recovery, exacerbating his delicate condition."
"But, my King, for Vihitasena, exclusion from the Queen’s society was a torment far worse than the fever itself! A new disease, an anguish of the heart, far deeper and more insidious than any physical malady, began to fester within him. This affliction of the soul could not be reached by any medicine, any treatment known to man. His condition worsened, not from the fever, but from the unbearable pain of separation from his beloved Tejovatí."
"The physicians, recognizing the unique nature of this malady, conveyed their desperate assessment to the ministers in private. ‘This disease,’ they whispered, ‘this profound heartbreak, may only find relief through a powerful shock – perhaps a sudden fear, or the profound stroke of some overwhelming affliction.’"
"The ministers were aghast, utterly bewildered. How could they conjure fear in a king as brave as Vihitasena? A king who had not trembled when a monstrous snake had fallen on his back in his sleep? A king who had not flinched when an enemy army had brazenly penetrated the sanctity of his very harem? They despaired, 'What are we, mere ministers, to do with such a fearless king? Devising fear seems utterly futile!'"
13. The Staged Death of Queen Tejovatí
"After much anxious reflection," Yaugandharáyaṇa continued, his voice gaining a dramatic edge, "the ministers, in their desperation, realized there was only one path, however terrible, however risky. They knew that only a sorrow profound enough to eclipse his current heartache could save him. And what sorrow could be greater than the loss of the very person whose absence was killing him?"
"They decided upon a radical, heartbreaking plan. After much deliberation and an agonizing discussion with Queen Tejovatí herself, who, though devastated, understood the necessity, they carried it out. They secretly concealed the Queen, removing her from the palace without a trace. Then, with heavy hearts and solemn faces, they approached the ailing King."
"‘Your Majesty,’ they announced, their voices filled with feigned grief, ‘we bear the most dreadful news. Queen Tejovatí… the Queen is dead.’"
A collective gasp escaped from the listeners in Udayana’s chamber. Vásavadattá covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with shock.
"The effect on King Vihitasena was immediate and devastating," Yaugandharáyaṇa narrated, painting a vivid picture. "He was utterly consumed by an exceeding grief, a torment so profound that it eclipsed every other sensation. In that moment of intense agitation, that crushing anguish, something extraordinary happened: the terrible, love-induced disease in his heart, the one that no medicine could touch, finally broke. It relieved itself. The shock, the ultimate affliction, had achieved what no physician could."
14. The Queen's Return and the Minister's Justification
"As the King slowly emerged from the depths of his agonizing sorrow, as he began to overcome the pain of that profound loss," Yaugandharáyaṇa recounted, "the ministers, with immense relief, prepared for the next, equally crucial, step. They then presented him with his great Queen, Tejovatí, revealing that she was, in fact, alive!"
"It was as if she were a second gift of ease, a miraculous restoration to life itself. Imagine, my King, the King’s reaction! He valued her more highly than ever, not merely as his beloved, but as the literal saviour of his life. And such was his wisdom, such was his gratitude, that he bore no anger towards her afterward for her part in the deception, for concealing herself. He understood the desperate measures taken for his survival."
Yaugandharáyaṇa then turned his gaze directly to King Udayana, his voice shifting from storyteller to a minister delivering a profound lesson.
"For, my King, it is indeed the care for a husband’s true interests, the safeguarding of his life and his kingdom, that truly entitles a king’s wife to the revered name of Queen. By mere compliance with a husband’s passing whims, however affectionate, the profound name of Queen is not fully obtained."
"And similarly," the minister continued, his eyes meeting Udayana’s, "discharging the duty of a minister means undivided attention, a relentless focus, on the heavy burden of the king’s affairs, on the greater good of the realm. The simple compliance with a king’s transient fancies, however pleasing, is merely the characteristic of a common courtier, not a true steward of the kingdom."
"Accordingly, my King," Yaugandharáyaṇa concluded, his voice firm and unwavering, "we, your ministers, and Queen Vásavadattá, made this immense effort precisely in order to secure an alliance with your enemy, the King of Magadha, and with the ultimate view of your conquering the whole Earth. It is not the case that the Queen, who, through her immense love for you, endured an intolerable separation and a profound personal sacrifice, has done you any wrong. On the contrary, my King, she has conferred upon you an incalculable benefit, securing your throne and your destiny."
15. The King of Vatsa’s Reconciliation
King Udayana had listened intently, his initial surprise giving way to deep contemplation. Yaugandharáyaṇa’s words resonated with truth, cutting through the subtle guilt he had unintentionally cast upon Vásavadattá. He looked at his chief minister, a glint of profound understanding and gratitude in his eyes.
"Yaugandharáyaṇa," Udayana said, his voice soft but sincere, "your words, like a surgeon's scalpel, have laid bare the deeper truth. I hear your counsel, and my heart now understands. I was indeed in the wrong, swayed by the emotion of my own story."
He turned to Vásavadattá, a look of profound apology and renewed love in his gaze. He took her hand, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. "My beloved Queen," he began, "I know this well enough, now. I know that you, like Policy incarnate, taking on bodily form, acting under the wise inspiration of my ministers, have bestowed upon me nothing less than the dominion of the earth itself. Your sacrifice, your suffering, was for the greater good of this kingdom, for my own destiny."
"That unbecoming speech I uttered, comparing our separation to Urvaśí's, was due to excessive affection, perhaps a momentary blindness of the heart. How can people whose minds are so completely blinded and consumed by love truly bring themselves to deliberate calmly, to see the larger picture? Forgive me, my love, for my momentary lapse in judgment."
Vásavadattá’s eyes, previously downcast, now shone with a mixture of relief and love. She squeezed his hand. "My King," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "there is nothing to forgive. Your love is my universe."
With such tender conversation, such profound reconciliation and understanding, King Udayana brought the day to a peaceful close, and with it, Queen Vásavadattá’s momentary eclipse of shame faded completely, replaced by renewed warmth and assurance.
16. The Messenger from Magadha
The next day dawned with a clear sky, but a fresh tremor of political unrest was about to ripple through the serene royal court. A messenger arrived from the King of Magadha, the very monarch whose daughter, Padmávatí, had been married to Udayana through an elaborate, albeit necessary, artifice. The King of Magadha had, it seemed, finally discovered the real state of affairs – the ruse involving Vásavadattá's supposed death, the strategic alliance, and the true motivations behind the marriage.
The messenger, a dignified but stern man, was brought before King Udayana. He delivered his master's message with formal gravity. "Your Majesty, the King of Magadha sends his greetings, but also his profound displeasure. We have been sorely deceived by your ministers, and by this alliance forged under false pretenses. Therefore, my master demands that you take such steps as to ensure that the world may not henceforth be to us, his kingdom and his family, a place of misery and dishonor."
The words hung heavy in the air, a diplomatic challenge echoing with anger and a demand for rectification. Udayana, however, remained composed. He showed all due honor to the messenger, understanding the gravity of the situation.
"Convey my respects to your King," Udayana replied calmly. "And know that the bonds forged, though perhaps unconventional in their beginning, are now sincere and steadfast." He then gave an unexpected instruction. "You shall take my answer, not from me directly, but from Queen Padmávatí herself. She will convey the sentiment of this court."
17. Padmávatí's Steadfast Loyalty
The messenger was then led to Queen Padmávatí, who was, as ever, gracefully devoted to Queen Vásavadattá. It was a testament to Padmávatí's noble character and the deep bond that had formed between the two queens that she chose to receive her father's ambassador in Vásavadattá’s presence. For humility, as the wise knew, was an unfailing characteristic of good women, especially those of royal lineage.
The ambassador bowed respectfully to both queens, though his message was intended solely for Padmávatí. "My daughter," he began, his voice softening slightly as he addressed his own princess, "your father, the King of Magadha, sends you his love, but also his great sorrow. You have been married by an artifice, a deception, and your husband, King Udayana, is attached to another, to Queen Vásavadattá. Thus, it has come to pass that I, your father, now reap in misery the bitter fruit of being the father of a daughter, whose marriage has been tainted by such methods."
Padmávatí listened patiently, her expression serene, though a slight sadness touched her eyes at her father’s distress. When he finished, she looked at the ambassador, her gaze firm yet gentle.
"Please, Ambassador," Padmávatí responded, her voice clear and unwavering, "say to my father from me, here and now: ‘What need is there for such grief? For my husband, King Udayana, is very indulgent to me, treating me with kindness and respect. And Queen Vásavadattá, far from being a rival, is my affectionate sister, a true companion to my heart. So, my dear father must not be angry with my husband, unless he wishes to break his own plighted faith, the alliance he himself agreed to, and at the same time, break his own daughter’s heart!’"
18. The Ambassador’s Departure and Padmávatí’s Sadness
Padmávatí’s dignified and utterly becoming answer resonated deeply. It was a powerful assertion of her loyalty and her newfound happiness, despite the unconventional path that led to her marriage. Queen Vásavadattá, immensely proud of Padmávatí's grace and strength, then extended her own hospitality. She ensured the ambassador was well entertained, provided with all comforts befitting a royal guest, before finally sending him on his return journey to Magadha.
As the ambassador departed, carrying Padmávatí's message back to her father, a quiet sigh escaped Padmávatí. Though she had spoken with courage and conviction, the exchange had inevitably stirred old memories. She remained somewhat depressed with regret, her thoughts drifting back to her father's house, to the familiar sights and sounds of her childhood home, now distant. The weight of her father’s sorrow, however misguided, settled upon her for a brief moment.
Vásavadattá, ever sensitive to her sister-queen's moods, noticed Padmávatí’s pensive expression. She knew that such noble hearts, though strong, could still carry the echo of melancholy.
"Vasantaka," Vásavadattá called out to the King's jovial companion, her voice gentle yet firm. "Come closer. Padmávatí is in need of cheer. You, with your endless store of tales and your lighthearted wit, are precisely the person to lift her spirits. Proceed, dear friend, and tell us a tale that will amuse her, and chase away these lingering shadows."
The royal chamber was quiet, the heavy silence broken only by the crackle of the oil lamp. Vasantaka, the King's jovial companion, sensed the lingering melancholy in Padmávatí’s eyes. He cleared his throat, adjusting his shawl with a flourish.
“My Queens, my King,” he began, his voice shifting from jester to storyteller, “allow me now to unfold a tapestry woven with fate, love, and a touch of divine mischief. Let me tell you of a devotion so profound that it transcended the veil between heaven and earth—the saga of Somaprabhá.”
The Saga of Somaprabhá
1. The Birth of Somaprabhá
In the magnificent city of Páṭaliputra, the shining jewel and ornament of the earth, lived a great and wealthy merchant named Dharmagupta. His wife, Chandraprabhá, became pregnant, and in due time, she gave birth. But this was no ordinary birth. The daughter who emerged was beautiful beyond measure, her limbs perfect, her skin luminous.
The moment the girl was born, a soft, ethereal light filled the chamber, illuminating the astonished faces of the midwives. Even more astonishing, the child did not cry. Instead, she spoke a few distinct words—words of celestial resonance—and then, with unnerving grace, she sat up.
2. Dharmagupta Questions His Daughter
The women in the lying-in-chamber were frozen in a state of terror and awe. Dharmagupta, hearing their frantic whispers, rushed in, his heart pounding with fear. Seeing the divine glow around his newborn, he knew this was no mortal child.
He approached the tiny figure, falling to his knees and bowing his head in humble reverence. The merchant, trembling, spoke in a low, secret voice.
“Adorable one, who are you?” he whispered, his eyes wide. “Why have you chosen to become incarnate within my humble family?”
3. Somaprabhá’s Warning and Concealment
The infant, her eyes possessing the wisdom of ages, answered with a clear, bell-like voice that only Dharmagupta could hear.
“Father, listen closely. You must not give me in marriage to anyone,” she commanded. “As long as I remain sheltered within your house, I shall be a divine blessing to you and your family. Do not inquire further into my origins; what profit is there in knowledge that brings only risk?”
Dharmagupta was terrified by the gravity and certainty of her words. He immediately agreed to her command, swearing secrecy. He then fabricated a sorrowful tale, giving out abroad that his newborn daughter had tragically died. The family mourned publicly, but secretly, they concealed the extraordinary girl within the deepest, most secure quarters of their home.
4. Guhachandra’s Infatuation
The girl, whom they named Somaprabhá (Moon-splendor), grew up protected from the world. Her body was human, but her splendor of beauty was utterly celestial, radiating a captivating light.
One day, the city celebrated the vibrant spring-festival. From the secluded rooftop of her palace, Somaprabhá watched the festivities with a rare moment of delight. At that same moment, a handsome young merchant, Guhachandra, happened to look up.
His gaze found hers, and the world stopped. Her beauty seized his heart like a creeper of love, wrapping itself tightly around his core. He gasped, faint with the sudden, intoxicating intensity of his longing. It was only with extreme difficulty that he stumbled home, every step agonizing.
5. The Marriage Proposal and Refusal
Guhachandra arrived home a broken man, instantly struck down by the consuming fever of love. He refused food, his energy waned, and his eyes searched desperately for the vision he had lost. His distraught parents, seeing their son fading, persistently importuned him to reveal the cause of his distress. He finally confessed the object of his obsession, the beautiful, mysterious girl, to a trusted friend who relayed the tale.
His father, a prominent merchant named Guhasena, was moved by profound love for his son. Guhasena immediately went to Dharmagupta’s house to propose a marriage.
Dharmagupta, however, remembered the celestial command and Somaprabhá’s solemn warning. He put off Guhasena, trying to find a gentle way to refuse the request for a daughter he had claimed was dead. “The fact is,” Dharmagupta stammered, looking away, “my poor daughter… she is out of her mind.”
6. Guhasena Seeks Royal Intervention
Guhasena, understanding the hint, realized that Dharmagupta meant to refuse the marriage, dismissing his son’s plea with a shameful lie. Guhasena returned home to find his son utterly prostrated by the fever of unrequited love, seemingly at the very point of death.
Guhasena paced his chamber, his brow furrowed in thought. “I have no choice,” he reflected. “I have previously conferred a great obligation upon the King. I will persuade His Majesty to move in this matter. He will surely command that reluctant father to give the maiden to my son, who is dying of love’s anguish.”
7. The King’s Coercion
Having made his desperate resolve, the merchant went to the King, presenting him with a splendid, priceless jewel as a token of respect and reminder of past favors. He then laid bare his desire and his son’s dire plight.
The King, remembering his obligation and feeling a benevolent disposition towards the distressed father, agreed to intervene. He commissioned the Head of the Police to assist Guhasena. The police chief, with his men, immediately surrounded Dharmagupta's house on all sides, a menacing ring of royal authority.
Dharmagupta, watching the police cordon, felt his throat choke with tears. He expected utter ruin, his secret exposed, his family disgraced, and the wrath of the King descending upon him for his deceit.
8. Somaprabhá’s Marriage Condition
In that moment of profound alarm, Somaprabhá emerged, her divine composure intact. She approached her distraught father.
“Give me in marriage, my father,” she commanded, her voice soft but firm. “Let not calamity befall you on my account, for the will of fate is inevitable.”
Dharmagupta looked at her, relief battling with fear.
“But heed this: I must never be treated as a wife by my husband. This crucial agreement, this condition, you must make in express, undeniable terms with my future father-in-law, Guhasena.”
9. The Conditional Marriage
Hearing his daughter’s life-saving, yet terrifying, condition, Dharmagupta wasted no time. He agreed to give her in marriage but stipulated the strange, non-negotiable condition that she was not to be treated as a wife.
Guhasena, consumed only by the desire to save his son’s life, agreed to the condition with inner laughter and a shrewd glint in his eye. He thought to himself, “The vows of love are flimsy threads indeed. Only let my son, Guhachandra, be married. Once she is his wife, who would truly uphold such a foolish promise?”
With the contract settled and the royal guard withdrawn, the happy Guhachandra, the son of Guhasena, went to Dharmagupta’s house and took his breathtakingly beautiful bride, Somaprabhá, back to his own house.
10. The Father-in-Law’s Death
That very evening, Guhasena, confident in his worldly wisdom, approached his son.
“My son,” he said with a hearty, conspiratorial laugh, “treat her as a wife! Who abstains from the society of his own wife? That contract was merely for show, a necessary expedient to win the King’s favor and save your life.”
The moment the bride, Somaprabhá, heard her father-in-law explicitly urging her husband to violate the sacred agreement, she lifted her hand. Her eyes, usually soft with celestial light, flashed with cold anger. She whirled her threatening fore-finger, a digit that seemed to Guhasena’s horrified eyes to be the very decree of death inscribed in the air.
Seeing that terrifying, whirling finger of his divine daughter-in-law, the breath of the merchant Guhasena immediately and violently left his body. He collapsed dead on the spot, and a sudden, bone-chilling fear descended upon all present.
11. Guhachandra’s Vow of Abstinence
Guhachandra, reeling from the catastrophic death of his father, looked from the divine wrath in his wife’s face to the lifeless form of the man he loved most. A single, chilling thought solidified in his mind: “The goddess of death has entered into my house as a wife.”
From that terrifying moment onward, he remembered the condition and the deadly consequences of breaking it. He utterly avoided the society of his wife, though she remained physically in his house. He observed a vow of abstinence, a vow as difficult and perilous as standing on the edge of a sharp sword.
12. The Brahman’s Inquiry and the Story Revealed
Inwardly consumed by this strange grief—a heart aching for the wife he possessed but could not touch—Guhachandra lost all taste for enjoyment. To channel his suffering, he made a solemn vow to feast devout Brahmans every day, hoping to gain merit and find solace.
His wife, Somaprabhá, of heavenly beauty but observing a perpetual, strict silence, would always appear to give the ceremonial fee (dakshina) to those Brahmans after they had finished eating.
One day, an aged, venerable Brahman arrived to be fed. He beheld her giving the fee, and he was utterly struck by her beauty—a beauty that excited the wonder of the world. Full of curiosity, he secretly approached Guhachandra.
“Tell me, my son,” the Brahman asked, his voice low and insistent, “who is this mysterious, beautiful young wife of yours? She seems divine!”
Guhachandra, importuned by the respected elder, finally broke his silence. With an afflicted mind and a voice thick with sorrow, he told the Brahman her whole, heartbreaking story: the birth, the warning, the condition, and the shocking death of his father.
13. The Charm for Appeasing the Fire
The excellent Brahman, having heard the tale of the beautiful, untouchable wife and the tragic death, was filled with profound compassion. He looked upon the suffering young merchant with pity and a knowing gaze.
“My son,” the Brahman said, “your suffering is not from an evil spirit, but from a divine constraint. But even divine constraints can be overcome by divine means.”
He then gave Guhachandra a sacred object—a charm for appeasing the fire (Agni Deva)—and assured him that if used correctly, he would surely obtain his heart’s desire.
14. The Appearance of the God of Fire
Guhachandra, desperate, took the charm and followed the Brahman’s instructions precisely. He began to mutter the powerful charm in secret, his devotion fervent.
As he chanted, a sudden, blinding light filled his hidden shrine. From the very midst of the fire he was worshipping, there appeared a magnificent figure: the God of Fire himself, in the benevolent form of a Brahman.
Guhachandra immediately fell prostrate at his feet, trembling with awe.
The Fire-Brahman looked down at him with glowing eyes and spoke with a voice that sounded like the crackle of flames. “Rise, Guhachandra. Tomorrow, I will accept your hospitality and eat in your house. I will remain there during the night. And after I have shown you the absolute truth with respect to your wife, I will finally accomplish your desire.”
15. The Wife’s Secret Midnight Departure
The next day, the Fire-Brahman entered Guhachandra’s house. He ate like the other Brahmans who were being fed, but when night fell, he did not depart. Instead, he lay down near Guhachandra, ready for the night’s watch. Such was the extent of his unwearying zeal to help the merchant.
As the house settled into the deep sleep of the second watch, just after midnight, Somaprabhá, the wife of Guhachandra, quietly and unseen, rose from her bed and stole out of the house.
16. The Transformation into Bees
The moment Somaprabhá’s shadow slipped out of the chamber, the divine Brahman instantly woke Guhachandra.
“Come,” the Brahman commanded in a low, urgent whisper, “see now what your wife is truly doing.”
Before Guhachandra could protest or question, the Brahman, by his potent magic power, swiftly gave both himself and Guhachandra the shape of bees. Tiny, silent, and swift, they slipped out of the house, ready to follow the mysterious woman.
17. The Celestial Assembly at the Nyagrodha Tree
The Brahman, with Guhachandra fluttering silently beside him, showed the merchant the figure of his wife, who had issued from the house and was moving rapidly. They followed the fair one as she traveled a long distance outside the city walls, moving through the sleeping landscape like a phantom.
After a long flight, Guhachandra saw a sight that took his breath away, even in his bee-form. Before them stood a massive Nyagrodha (Banyan) tree, vast in extent, beautiful with its shady, ancient trunk.
From beneath its sweeping branches, they heard a sound utterly unlike any earthly music: a heavenly sound of singing, sweet with strains floating on the cool night air, accompanied by the gentle, mesmerizing music of the lyre and the flute.
18. Somaprabhá’s Divine Identity Revealed
And then, on the trunk of the great tree, Guhachandra saw a sight that shattered his remaining confusion. Seated on a splendid, shimmering throne, was a beautiful heavenly maiden. She was utterly like his wife in appearance, eclipsing the moonbeam with her beauty, and she was being fanned with pure white chowries (whisks), appearing like the very Goddess who presided over all the moon’s beauty and treasure.
Then, before his eyes, Guhachandra saw his wife, Somaprabhá, ascend that very tree and sit down with effortless grace beside that lady, occupying exactly half of her throne.
As he contemplated those two heavenly maidens of equal, breathtaking beauty sitting together, it truly seemed to Guhachandra as if the night itself were illuminated by three moons: the silver celestial orb and the two radiant divine beings.
19. Guhachandra’s Realization of Divine Destiny
Guhachandra, still a tiny bee observing this celestial assembly, was momentarily overwhelmed. He thought to himself: “Can this be sleep? Or some wicked delusion?”
But he quickly dismissed both suppositions. His father’s death, the charm, the divine Brahman—all were real. “Away with both these thoughts!” he resolved. “This is the clear expanding of the blossom from the bud of association with the wise! This miraculous sight springs forth on the tree of right conduct that I have nourished with my faith and my vows. And this wondrous blossom gives promise of the appropriate and desired fruit!”
20. The Celestial Sisters Converse
While Guhachandra reflected at his leisure, those two celestial maidens, truly sisters, began to converse. They ate food specially suited for their divine nature and then drank a shimmering heavenly wine.
Somaprabhá, the one who was Guhachandra’s wife, then spoke to the other heavenly maiden, her sister.
“Sister,” she said, her voice expressing genuine concern, “to-day, a glorious Brahman, clearly a divine being in disguise, has arrived in our house. For this very reason, my heart is deeply alarmed, and I must return quickly before he reveals my secret.”
21. Return and the Brahman’s Instruction
With these words, Somaprabhá took leave of her sister and swiftly descended from the tree, vanishing into the night.
The Brahman and Guhachandra, still in the form of bees, knew their mission was complete. They immediately flew ahead of her, returning to the house by night before she did. Once they had regained their human forms, Somaprabhá, the heavenly maiden, entered the house, unaware that she had been followed or observed.
The Brahman, seeing Guhachandra's ecstatic, confused state, immediately addressed him. “You have now had ocular proof that your wife is divine and not human. You have seen her sister, who is also divine. Tell me, how do you suppose that a heavenly nymph, a being of the celestial realm, can desire the society of a mortal man?”
22. The Charm and the Artifice
The Brahman then laid out his final, brilliant plan. “Her divinity is protected by a strange enchantment, preventing her from desiring mortal relations. This must be broken.”
“I will give you a charm—a powerful mantra—to be written up over her door,” he instructed. “This will loosen the spiritual constraints on her nature.”
“But that is not enough. I will also teach you an artifice—a clever trick—to be employed outside the house. This artifice must be used to increase the force of the charm.”
He explained the principle: “A fire burns even without being fanned, but its power is magnified greatly when a strong current of air is brought to bear on it. In the same way, a charm will produce the desired effect unaided, but it will work much more readily and swiftly when assisted by a clever stratagem.”
23. The Charm’s Installation and the Stratagem
With those final, crucial instructions, the excellent Brahman gave the charm to Guhachandra, instructed him carefully in the artifice, and then, as swiftly as he had arrived, he vanished in the dawn light.
Guhachandra, filled with desperate hope and a sense of divine mandate, wrote the powerful charm up over the door of his wife’s apartment.
That evening, he put the final, crucial part of the plan into action. He dressed himself in the most splendid, magnificent clothing, making himself look utterly desirable and utterly available. Then, he went and began an elaborate, highly visible conversation with a certain alluring courtesan (hetaera) directly before his wife’s watchful eyes.
24. Somaprabhá’s Jealousy and Submission
The effect was instantaneous. When she saw her magnificent husband conversing intimately with another woman, a mortal, and dressing so splendidly for her, the celestial maiden was finally seized by the most human of all emotions: jealousy. The divine constraint that had kept her detached was shattered.
The power of the charm, written over her threshold, had finally released her voice and her suppressed, human affection. She immediately called out to him.
“Tell me, Guhachandra,” she demanded, her voice ringing with raw, uninhibited emotion, “who is that woman?”
25. The Vow is Broken and the Union Achieved
Guhachandra, playing the role perfectly, answered her with a clever lie. “She is a courtesan who has taken a great fancy to me, my dear. I shall go and pay her a visit today, for she is most persistent.”
The heavenly maiden could not bear the thought. Her brow wrinkled in a sudden, angry frown. She lifted up her veil with her left hand, her eyes flashing with a possessive, human fire.
“Ah! I see!” she cried out, her voice now completely free, echoing with agitation. “This is why you are dressed so grandly! Do not go to her! What have you to do with her? Visit me, for I am your true wife!”
He had been implored by her—agitated with a jealous excitement, as if the evil spiritual demon which held her separate had finally been expelled by the charm. Guhachandra was in a state of pure, ecstatic joy. He immediately abandoned his feigned intention, entered her chamber with her, and, though a mortal man, finally enjoyed a celestial happiness that far surpassed anything he could have conceived of in his imagination.
Having thus obtained her as a loving wife, completely conciliated by the magic power of the charm, and having happily abandoned her cold, celestial rank for him, Guhachandra lived happily with his divine bride ever after.
26. The Moral of the Curse and Redemption
Vasantaka paused, a knowing look on his face. “Thus, my Queens, my King, do we learn a great truth: heavenly nymphs, when they have been cast down to earth by some curse or constraint, often live as wives in the houses of righteous men. This union is a reward for their husband’s virtuous deeds, such as acts of devotion and charity.”
27. The Wishing-Cow of the Good
“For let me tell you,” Vasantaka continued, tapping his finger for emphasis, “the honouring of gods and Brahmans—true devotion and charity—is considered the very wishing-cow (Kámadhenu) of the good. For what is not obtained by that? All the other clever, politic expedients you hear of, known as conciliation, division, and so on, are mere adjuncts—helpful additions, perhaps, but not the root cause of success.”
28. Evil Deeds Cause Degradation
“Conversely,” he warned, lowering his voice, “be warned that evil actions are the chief cause of even heavenly beings, who are born in the most lofty of stations, falling from their high estate. Think of a hurricane; it is the sole, violent cause of blossoms falling from a healthy tree. Let us therefore strive only for goodness.”
Vasantaka took a sip of water, his eyes twinkling. “Now, having told you of the celestial curse on Somaprabhá, allow me to tell you of another famous curse, one that brings us much closer to home. Hear, moreover, what happened to Ahalyá.”
The Stone-Hearted Queen: The Story of Ahalyá
29. Gautama and Ahalyá
“Once upon a time,” Vasantaka began, his voice now serious and respectful, “there lived a great and powerful hermit named Gautama. Such was his spiritual might that he knew the past, the present, and the future—nothing was hidden from his all-seeing wisdom.”
“He had a wife named Ahalyá, and her beauty was legendary. It was said that she surpassed even the nymphs of heaven, radiating a dangerous, intoxicating perfection.”
30. Indra’s Temptation
“Ahalyá’s dazzling beauty proved to be her downfall. One day, Indra, the powerful king of the gods, beheld her. Indra, whose mind was blinded by the intoxication of his own immense power, allowed his thoughts to run towards unlawful objects. He was instantly consumed by lust for Ahalyá.”
“He waited for an opportunity and, when Gautama was away at his austerities, Indra tempted her in secret, approaching her in disguise.”
31. Gautama Discovers the Intrigue
“And she, in a moment of utter folly, encouraged the husband of Śachí (Indra’s wife), becoming a slave to her own passions. The intrigue was successful, but short-lived.”
“The hermit Gautama, utilizing his superhuman power and foresight, immediately discovered the entire, shameful affair. His knowledge of the past, present, and future made all secrets transparent. He arrived upon the scene without warning, catching the two in their act.”
32. Indra’s Transformation
“Indra, the King of the Gods, found himself exposed before the most powerful of sages. Stripped of his divine dignity, he was seized by crippling fear. Knowing the hermit’s immense power and wrath, he instantly transformed his powerful body. Out of sheer panic, he assumed the contemptible form of a small, creeping cat to try and slip away unnoticed.”
33. Ahalyá’s Ambiguous Answer
“But the omniscient Gautama was not fooled. He looked at his guilty, terrified wife, and spoke with a chilling calm. ‘Who is here, Ahalyá?’ he demanded.”
“Ahalyá, utterly panicked but still clinging to a desperate shred of self-preservation, answered her husband with a clever, ambiguous lie. She answered him in the common, informal Prákrit dialect (a language known for its casual ambiguity). ‘Here, forsooth, is a cat,’ she stammered. By this verbal contortion, she managed to preserve a technical, fleeting truth, yet her guilt was written upon her soul.”
34. The Curse on Ahalyá
“Gautama looked at her and saw through the flimsy linguistic defense. A grim smile touched his lips. ‘It is quite true,’ he said, his voice dangerously soft, ‘that your lover is here.’”
“The sage then inflicted a terrible curse upon her. But, because she had shown some fleeting regard for verbal truth, he ordained that the curse would terminate eventually. The curse ran: ‘Woman of bad character, take for a long time the awful nature of a stone! You shall remain thus, motionless and cold, until the day that you behold the great hero Ráma wandering here in the forest!’”
35. The Curse on Indra
“Gautama’s wrath was not finished. He turned his attention to the true instigator of the crime, the King of the Gods. The hermit inflicted on Indra a curse that struck at the heart of his vice.”
“‘A thousand pictures of that which thou hast desired shall be upon thy body!’ he thundered. Thus, Indra's body was instantly covered in a thousand repulsive, humiliating marks.”
“But, again, the sage showed a path to eventual purification. He added: ‘When thou shalt behold Tilottamá, a heavenly nymph whom the divine architect Viśvakarman shall create, they shall turn into a thousand eyes!’”
36. The Curses Take Effect
“When he had pronounced these dual, terrible curses, the hermit Gautama turned his back on his former life and returned to his intense austerities, according to his desire.”
“Ahalyá, for her part, immediately assumed the awful, unmoving condition of a stone, cold and silent, a monument to her folly. And Indra, the mighty ruler of the heavens, immediately found his body covered with repulsive, humiliating marks, the fruit of his desire. For to whom, my Queens, is not immorality a cause of humiliation and degradation, even if he be a god?”
37. The Moral of Karma and Virtue
Vasantaka leaned forward earnestly. “So true is this, my listeners, that every man’s evil actions always bear fruit in himself. For whatever seed a man sows, of that he reaps the fruit—this is the eternal law of Karma. Therefore, I say to you: persons of noble character never desire that which is disagreeable to their neighbors. This is the invariable observance of the good, prescribed by divine law and righteous conduct.”
38. The Queens’ Former Birth and Reconciliation
Vasantaka’s gaze swept over the two Queens, his voice now gentle and affirming. “And you two, my Queens, are the living proof of this sacred law of action and consequence, and of the power of pure intent. You were, in a former birth, sister goddesses, but you were separated and degraded in consequence of some old curse. Accordingly, you were born to this earth, one as a princess of Vatsa, one of Magadha. But now, though you were brought together by stratagem and circumstance, your noble hearts are free from all strife and are entirely bent on doing one another only good turns.”
39. Eliminating Jealousy and Shared Affection
When Vásavadattá and Padmávatí heard this beautiful explanation from Vasantaka, the last, smallest remnants of mutual jealousy—the tiny seeds of resentment that could not be completely quelled by the King’s love—were dismissed entirely from their hearts.
Queen Vásavadattá, with a generosity that defined her nobility, made her husband the equal property of both. She acted towards Padmávatí with the same kindness and care she would show to herself, genuinely desiring her sister-queen’s welfare.
40. The King of Magadha is Pleased
Meanwhile, the King of Magadha, who had been so angry over the deception, heard of this extraordinary generosity—of Vásavadattá’s love for Padmávatí, and Padmávatí’s defense of her marriage—from the messengers she had sent. He was deeply moved and profoundly pleased by the intelligence. The bond of affection had proved stronger than the bond of politics.
41. Yaugandharáyaṇa’s Call to Action
The very next day, the great minister Yaugandharáyaṇa, his mission accomplished and his policy triumphant, came before the King of Vatsa and the Queens.
“My Prince,” the minister stated, his voice firm and filled with purpose, “why do we tarry here any longer? Why do we not go now to Kauśámbí, to the capital, in order to finally begin our great enterprise?”
42. The Success of the "Giving of a Daughter" Policy
“We know now,” Yaugandharáyaṇa explained, “that there is absolutely nothing to be feared from the King of Magadha, even though he was seemingly deceived. For he has been completely gained over by the most powerful negotiation of all—the one known as the ‘Giving of a Daughter’!”
He drove the point home: “How could he now choose to make war against his own beloved son-in-law? That would be to abandon his daughter, whom he loves more than life itself! He must keep his plighted word. Moreover, you, my King, did not deceive him; I did it all myself—and I have learned from my spies that he is not displeased. Indeed, he will not act in a hostile way. It was for this very purpose, this final assurance, that we remained here for these few days.”
43. The Magadha Messenger Arrives with Submission
As Yaugandharáyaṇa, who had accomplished the nearly impossible, was speaking, a new messenger, belonging to the King of Magadha, arrived. He was announced by the warder and, after bowing low, sat down, carrying a message of final peace.
“The King of Magadha is completely delighted with the intelligence sent by the Queen Padmávatí,” the messenger declared to the King of Vatsa. “He sends this message: ‘What need is there of many words? I have heard all, and I am pleased with you. Therefore, do the thing for the sake of which this beginning has been made. We submit ourselves.’”
44. The King’s Joyful Reception
King Udayana’s heart soared with joy. This clear speech was like the beautiful blossom of the tree of policy planted so patiently by Yaugandharáyaṇa. His alliance was secure, his enemy turned to a friend.
He immediately brought Padmávatí and Vásavadattá to the messenger, and after showering the man with generous presents, he dismissed him with great honor.
45. Chaṇḍamahásena’s Message of Approval
But the triumphs were not yet over. Almost immediately after, a messenger from Chaṇḍamahásena, the King of Avanti and Udayana’s first father-in-law, arrived.
The messenger bowed and delivered his master’s delighted message: “O King, his majesty Chaṇḍamahásena, who understands the deepest secrets of policy, has learned the entire state of your affairs and is delighted! He sends this message: ‘Your majesty’s excellence is plainly declared by this one fact: that you have Yaugandharáyaṇa for your minister! What need of further speeches?’”
46. Praise for Vásavadattá and Padmávatí
The praise continued, warm and sincere. “Blessed too is Vásavadattá, who, through her profound devotion to you, has done a deed which makes us exalt our head forever among the good and wise. Moreover, Padmávatí is not separated from Vásavadattá in my regard, for they two have one heart. Therefore, O King, exert yourself quickly; the time for action is now!”
47. The King’s Renewed Affection and Decision
When the King of Vatsa heard this speech from his father-in-law’s messenger, a great surge of joy arose in his heart. His already exceeding warmth of affection for Queen Vásavadattá was intensified, and the great respect which he felt for his excellent minister, Yaugandharáyaṇa, was cemented forever.
The King, together with his Queens, entertained the messenger according to all the laws of due hospitality, in a joyful excitement of mind, and sent him away pleased. Then, finally bent on commencing the ultimate enterprise—the reconquest of his ancestral kingdom and the establishment of his empire—he sat down with his ministers, deliberated briefly, and definitively determined on returning to Kauśámbí. The time for politics was over; the time for glory had arrived.
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